Spoilers ahead.
Have you ever dreamt of a better version of yourself? So goes the tagline of body horror film The Substance, one that would also fit right in on the posters of dystopian drama Uglies on Netflix or dark comedy, A Different Man, all films in which mirrors seem to magnify their characters’ most distressing physical imperfections while the judgmental gaze of the people around them reflects their self-loathing. In this trio of films, released this year, the characters undergo extreme procedures to rectify their perceived flaws and chip away at their insecurities, but instead, emerge with fresh psychological scars.
Uglies, based on Scott Westerfeld’s young-adult novel of the same name, unfolds in a post-apocalyptic world in which everyone must undergo surgery to become “their most perfect self” on their 16th birthday. The idea is that a society of people at their happiest and prettiest is a society without conflict—because how could prejudice possibly arise if everyone is equally good-looking? If Uglies protagonist Tally Youngblood (Joey King) can’t wait to grow up so she can opt for the surgery, The Substance’s Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore) is desperate to hold on to her fading youth. Unceremoniously fired from her job as an aerobics TV show host by her smarmy boss (Dennis Quaid) who offers, “It all stops at 50...” by way of explanation, Elisabeth injects herself with a mysterious substance and, in agony, ‘births’ Sue (Margaret Qualley), a younger, more vivacious version of herself. Ageing naturally is viewed as horrific in the dystopian setting of Uglies, a sentiment that finds resonance in the glossy, conformity-driven present-day Los Angeles of The Substance. These premises, while dystopian, stem from the impossible beauty standards that have taken over both our social media feeds and ideas of self.
Both movies emphasise how skewed their protagonists’ perception of themselves is by making their body dysmorphia—fuelled by societal standards—completely at odds with what the audience sees. Tally is nicknamed ‘Squint’, while her best friend (Chase Stokes) is called ‘Nose’, after the bodily imperfection that causes each the most insecurity. For all she frets about her looks, however, Joey King is conventionally pretty and adopts no noticeable visual tic for the film, which means that jibes at her features don’t really sting. The Substance emphasises Demi Moore’s attractiveness—at 61, the actor is impossibly fit and toned, with lustrous jet-black hair and smooth skin—which only further underlines how sad it is that Elisabeth’s self-image is clouded by self-doubt. We’d all kill to look like her, but she’s killing herself in a bid to look like her 20-something self.
By contrast, the reason for Edward Lemuel’s (Sebastian Stan) decision to undergo body modification in A Different Man isn’t mere vanity. He suffers from neurofibromatosis, a genetic disorder that creates bulging facial tumours and makes him the subject of curious, often horrified stares. A woman on the subway glances away quickly when he makes eye contact. A new neighbour (Renate Reinsve) is startled on first seeing him, reflexively backing away in shock. When she sees a photo of him as a baby, indistinguishable from any other, she does a double take, then looks back at him, as if to confirm that it’s really him. The only acting roles Edward is up for cast his condition in a cruel and unflattering light. He stars in a workplace sensitivity video, but it’s still one in which people are told their harsh reactions to the “facially different” are physiologically justified. Just like Elisabeth’s billboard that’s torn down and eventually replaced with one of Sue, and the repeated countdowns reminding Tally of the day she’ll finally be “pretty”, he can’t escape the societal reinforcement of a beauty standard. When Edward undergoes an experimental treatment to modify his facial features, even the nurse can’t quite look him in the eye.
In these films, mirrors only seem to reflect what’s lacking. Tally repeatedly asks her bedroom mirror—which doubles up as a smart screen—to “make her pretty”, at which point it displays a yassified version of her, with a filter that has lightened her hair and eyes, and airbrushed her skin. When Elisabeth overhears her boss making cruel remarks about her in the office bathroom, a woman otherwise so at ease in front of the camera feels suddenly unsure of her own reflection. Later in the film, Elisabeth, on her way to a date, stops dead in her tracks after seeing her reflection in a doorknob, the distorted image only confirming her most twisted biases about her looks. It’s no coincidence that most of the physical violence in the film—including scenes in which Sue repeatedly jabs a syringe into Elisabeth’s spine to extract ‘stabilising fluid’, leaving her with a gaping, pus-filled wound—occur in a bathroom, a site that fosters female insecurity and body-image obsession, a place where women are their most self-critical. And while A Different Man isn’t a body-horror movie like The Substance, a harrowing scene features Edward pulling off chunks of flesh in the mirror, revealing bloodied skin underneath. Later, in bed, he unpeels more of his face, gasping as though being suffocated under the weight of his own skin.
That good looking people are naturally treated better is a theme that recurs in each of these movies. Sue, giggly, demure, and flirtatious, nabs Elisabeth’s job, seems poised to eclipse her level of fame, and displays a level of sexual confidence the older woman cannot. Those who undergo the surgery in Uglies get to live in the glittering city, away from the dreary dorms the ‘uglies’ inhabit. Even post-surgery Edward in A Different Man initially finds personal and professional success, but for him, pretty privilege can only go so far. Despite his newfound attractiveness, he still shrinks into himself, still slumps with uncertainty. When he meets Oswald (Adam Pearson, who is afflicted with neurofibromatosis in real life), who’s naturally charming, witty, and sociable, he’s forced to confront whether it was really his looks holding him back, or his self-consciousness about them.
In contrast to how the pursuit of physical perfection renders the characters in The Substance and Uglies unrecognisable versions of themselves, Edward is faced with the opposite problem, ending up with the crushing realisation that peeling back the layers of himself hasn’t changed who he fundamentally is. The film’s title, A Different Man, then becomes a mocking remark. All these leads arrive at equally horrific revelations—the beautifying surgery in Uglies creates lesions in the citizens’ brains to sedate them into a permanent state of happiness, while The Substance’s Elisabeth finds herself withering rapidly as Sue violates the terms of their agreement and steals years of her life.
These movies take aim at a culture that conditions people to be so fixated on how they look that they lose sight of how to develop a rich inner life, forgoing hobbies and failing to form meaningful relationships.
What’s most tragic, however, is that for all the time they spend staring at themselves in the mirror, they’re people who would, for once in their life, just like to be seen instead. When Monstro Elisasue—a version of Elisabeth and Sue trapped in the same deformed body—admired herself in the mirror during a screening of The Substance, the theatre was far from horrified. Instead, it burst into applause; a sweet, sad moment of vindication for a woman who, for the rest of the film, found it eluding her.
