Coralie Fargeat: Body-Horror and the Consumer Society.

If you’re a flickaholic like me, chances are you spotted the many cinematic nods in The Substance before the credits even rolled. And if you didn’t? Well, don’t worry… I’m here to obsess over them for both of us. I might be late to the frame-freak party, but if there’s one film from last year that deserves my first-ever review, it’s this grotesque, gorgeous, and gloriously unhinged masterpiece.

So, to all my fellow shot spotters, pause philosophers. let’s dive in!

We’re about to dissect every reference, every wink, and every eerie inspiration that ties The Substance to the horror legends of the past. Think of it as film analysis meets body horror autopsy—scalpels (and spoilers) out!

Investigation: A Body in Decay, A Society in Reflection

In The Substance, Coralie Fargeat crafts a visceral, unrelenting tale about how the pursuit of physical perfection leads to total dehumanization. But to fully grasp the film’s impact, we need to dissect the two fundamental subgenres it masterfully intertwines: body horror and gorn.

Body Horror: Transformation as a Nightmare

At the core of The Substance lies body horror, a genre where the human body itself becomes the battleground for fear, decay, and transformation. In this case, the disintegration of flesh serves as a brutal metaphor for a consumerist society that places impossible demands on the body—only to discard it when it no longer meets expectations. The film forces us to confront unsettling questions:

How much control do we really have over our own bodies? How far will we go to maintain an illusion of perfection? And at what point does self-improvement turn into self-destruction?

Gorn: When Violence Becomes a Spectacle

The second key ingredient is gorn—a subgenre blending gore and p*rn, known for its stylized, extreme violence. However, while some critics argue that these films seek to make brutality enticing (often linking them to the objectification of women in media), The Substance offers a more layered perspective. Rather than serving as sadistic eye candy, its shocking imagery provokes disgust, not desire. The film weaponizes its violence, making us hyper-aware of our own voyeuristic tendencies.

The Viewer as Participant: A Mirror to Consumer Society

What makes The Substance particularly unsettling is that it doesn’t just show violence—it makes us complicit in it. As the film unfolds, we are no longer passive spectators; we are actively consuming the spectacle, much like how society consumes and discards people based on their appearance, youth, and desirability.

Fargeat’s critique is sharp and undeniable: we all participate in exploitation, whether we admit it or not. In a world obsessed with youth, beauty, and the next big thing, The Substance holds up a mirror—and what we see isn’t pretty.

Main References and Inspirations: A Cinematic Detective Story

Like any good frame freak, I couldn’t help but play detective while watching The Substance, hunting for the cinematic breadcrumbs Fargeat left behind. And let me tell you—it’s like opening a twisted, blood-soaked time capsule of horror’s greatest hits.

Kubrick’s Cold Perfectionism: The Mind as a Horror Maze

From the moment The Substance begins, you can feel Stanley Kubrick shadow lurking in the background. The sterile, unsettling environments? The creeping sense of alienation? That’s straight out of The Shining and A Clockwork Orange. Kubrick had a thing for peeling back the layers of the human psyche, and Fargeat follows suit—only here, the mind isn’t just breaking, the body is melting along with it.

Hitchcock’s Psychological Trap: Fear Comes from Within

Ah, Alfred Hitchcock , the OG master of psychological terror. Psycho taught us that the most dangerous monsters aren’t supernatural—they’re human. Much like Norman Bates, the protagonist in The Substance is trapped in a nightmare of their own making, haunted by an identity crisis that spirals into full-body horror. Hitchcock gave us the shower scene; Fargeat gives us a whole damn bloodbath.

Lynch’s Surreal Nightmare: Who Even Are We?

If you felt your sense of self dissolving while watching The Substance, you’re not alone—David Lynch fingerprints are all over it. Lost Highway, The Elephant Man—these films warp identity until reality itself is a question mark. Much like Lynch, Fargeat asks: What happens when your body betrays you? When the thing you recognize in the mirror isn’t "you" anymore? That’s some Mulholland Drive-level existential dread right there.

Argento’s Aesthetic Terror: Beauty Meets Brutality

Then, of course, we have Dario Argento , king of gorgeous, neon-drenched nightmares. Suspiria was a masterclass in making horror feel like an art gallery dipped in blood, and Fargeat borrows from that playbook. The intense reds, the eerie blues, the calculated beauty in destruction—it all screams Argento, but with a modern, feminist bite.

Cronenberg’s Flesh Horror: When the Body Fights Back

No deep dive into The Substance would be complete without a nod to David Cronenberg, the undisputed champion of body horror. The Fly, Videodrome—he turned physical transformation into a metaphor for society’s deepest anxieties. Like Cronenberg, Fargeat doesn’t just show bodily decay; she forces us to feel it, making us hyper-aware of our own fragility, our own impermanence, our own—ew, is that my skin peeling?!

The Dorian Gray Connection: Beauty as a Curse

Then there’s Oliver Parker adaptation of The Picture of Dorian Gray, which asks the age-old question: What if youth and beauty were a trap instead of a blessing? The Substance takes this concept and cranks it up to 11, showing that the pursuit of eternal perfection isn’t just toxic—it’s a horror movie waiting to happen.

Almodóvar’s Twisted Identity Crisis: The Skin We Live In

Nobody does identity and body politics quite like Pedro Almodóvar , and La Piel Que Habito (The Skin I Live In) is a perfect example. Much like Fargeat, Almodóvar explores who really owns the body we live in—us, or the expectations imposed by society? In both films, the body becomes a prison, and every attempt to reclaim it comes with grotesque consequences.

Takashi Miike’s Audition: When Power Becomes Horror

And finally, we come to Takashi Miike Audition—a slow-burn descent into social horror, gender politics, and absolute terror. Much like Miike, Fargeat holds a mirror to power imbalances and the objectification of women, only to shatter that mirror with a blood-drenched hammer.

Final Thoughts: Coralie, Have You Been Watching Too Many Horror Movies?

After breaking down The Substance, one thing is clear: Coralie Fargeat has definitely seen a LOT of horror movies. Maybe too many. (Not that I’m judging—I’m literally the same.) Her film is a love letter to body horror, psychological terror, and all things grotesquely beautiful. But here’s the kicker: while we sit here analyzing references and inspirations, aren’t we just consuming films the same way the movie criticizes? Maybe we are the real horror addicts. Maybe we’re the ones who can’t look away, who keep coming back for more, hungry for the next grotesque masterpiece.

So, tell me—did I miss any references? Did you spot something I didn’t? Drop your thoughts, and let’s keep this cinematic detective game going. I’d love to read your theories (before I go binge-watch another 20 horror films and question my own sanity). 🔪🎬🍿