David Cronenberg’s eXistenZ stands as my earliest memory of a distinct brand of cinema: body horror. I don’t even know if it’s right to classify eXistenZ as “body horror,” as much as just “Cronenbergian.” Like, certainly, injecting a weird little gaming device into an oozing, infected physical port installed and located on a human’s body isn’t not-not body horror, but to me that’s just Cronenberg being Cronenberg. If I’m looking at something like Wikipedia’s definition of the phrase though, which refers to it as “a subgenre of horror fiction that intentionally showcases grotesque or psychologically disturbing violations of the human body or of another creature,” the description certainly aligns with parts of eXistenZ; parts of eXistenZ and much of The Substance.
The Substance is a body horror film through and through, but not merely in its use of absurd, maximalist on-screen mutation and disfiguration, but also in the “grotesque” manner which it characterizes the ideas of a “better” self, beauty, and self-actualization. In those ways, however, it might be as much an existential horror film as it is a body horror one.
The performances throughout are brilliant, but what continues to rattle my saber after watching it isn’t the disturbing nature of any of the on-screen images, as much as the messaging behind them. The film focuses on toxic beauty standards and aging, but also the proliferation of a certain brand of unquenchable insufficiency. In the case of the film, this feeling characterizes the state of Elisabeth Sparkle (Demi Moore), who – through aging out of her peak years as a fitness model – is introduced to a means by which she might course correct; a means to a “better self” – The Substance.
Elisabeth is provided a vial containing a liquid of mysterious origin which is claimed to cure her of her predicament. In reality, it doesn’t revitalize her skin, cure wrinkles, or erase age spots, however. Instead it uses her body to generate a new self, a younger self, her ideal self – Sue (Margaret Qualley). I suppose if you haven’t seen this and are following along here, whatever I’m writing probably doesn’t quite add up… more specifically, The Substance separates Elisabeth into two people, distinct consciousnesses who are to share the act of actually being conscious. They are to each exist, seven days on, seven days off. When Elisabeth is awake, she is in charge. When Sue is awake, she is in charge. They should not be awake at the same time, however, and must never forget they are not two separate people, but are one. Always remember, you are one.
In time, Sue’s dominant abuse of her time creeps the two halves out of compliance with The Substance’s guidelines, resulting in rising levels of conflict between the two halves: One which feels the other is holding them back and one which feels they aren’t being respected as part of the whole. I was listening to a podcast recently which referenced this split as an analogy for addiction, particularly mentioning a scene in which Elisabeth binges on food, which then impacts Sue’s body the next day in a rather body horror-y way. This visually depicts the consequences of one state of mind influencing another, but I don’t think the scene reflects addiction, necessarily, as much as themes of self-rejection. Sabotage is often borne of guilt and shame and jealousy, and when caught in a trap of such feelings, sometimes the best way to escape is to do damage to the source. Feeling better isn’t the point so much as feeling different is. Any consequences are for future me to deal with.
This got me thinking more about how we’re nurtured to manufacture such a level of crisis in our own lives, a perpetual cycle of insufficiency. Think about how many people approach New Year’s traditions, for example, segmenting themselves off by way of calendar turnover; shunning the old in favor of the new. Come January 1, our Sues are permitted control, weaponizing resentment against the old self for all such sins which stand misaligned with this new vision for a “better” self. I know in my past this has shown up as a new gym regiment or diet – all actions, intentions, and motivations installed to rid oneself of one’s lesser self, in some way. A byproduct of the split between the old and the new is typically guilt, anger, and shame though, if the actions of these two selves fail to work harmoniously in support of this new way of living. It’s funny that the same desperation which inspires the moonshot attempt at turning over a new page is rarely implemented with regard to nurturing a sense of self-compassion, grace, and understanding. What a difference we might see if such traits were valued more highly than a firm ass or bulging biceps?
In Elisabeth and Sue’s case, this escalates into a wild scene of self-violence, culminating in a deformed and grotesque final state being unveiled to an audience of disgusted onlookers. This, to me, was (director/writer/producer) Coralie Fargeat bringing about Frankenstein in the most Cronenbergian of ways, begging a question of whether the hyper-gore witnessed on screen was any more or less disturbing than the emotional chaos which fueled it. What bothers me isn’t on the screen but within myself. When Sue is revealed, she is presented in a comically hyper-sexualized manner, representing a reprehensible level of empty vanity, but it’s not like I was thinking to myself “No, please stop. Don’t show any more of this garbage!” A part of me remains hooked by the surface level appeal of it all. While I can intellectually demonize Sue, on some level I’ve also bought into Sue’s value and the rejection of Elisabeth. A part of me says she is better while another part is disgusted by the admission. The same sort of conflict appears in my own life, as I grapple with my own aging. Some days I reject what I see in the mirror while others I don’t. If my memory is correct, eXistenZ focused on the expansion of the self into the digital space, a separation between the life and the lifeform. The Substance, however, asks what to do when both halves of the self are fundamentally incompatible, and what’s to make of the paradox of living through such a scenario. That’s the true horror of it all.
The past couple weeks I’ve been returning to bits and pieces of the new compilation Aphex Twin released called Music From the Merch Desk (2016-2023). Largely as Aphex Twin, though also from a smattering of aliases ranging from AFX to Polygon Window, Richard D. James has become of my favorite artists, and certainly one of my most listened to, so a new bucket of music like this is a welcomed gift. Aside from bouncing around within this new 38-track collection, however, I found myself inspired me to trace when and where I was first introduced to his music. It has to have been one of the Chris Cunningham-directed music videos, be it for “Come to Daddy” or “Windowlicker.” It’s weird to think about a teenage me latching onto these videos, not merely for their subversive visuals but for their otherworldly sounds. Weirder yet, how that person became this person.
A while back I remember seeing a video from writer Jason Pargin spelling out a reason fans (and creators) of horror are drawn to it, particularly the most extreme of its sub-genres. The concept of escapism in this arena, he says, serves as a means of wish fulfillment. He doesn’t mean that people who watch or create horror want to commit crimes or see horrific images in real life, but that we wish the nature of terror wasn’t as banal as it is, fueled by people who look and act so normal that they can get away with it for decades. We want our horror to be the sort of monsters and demons, not of what it is in reality. The Substance is as heavy as it is for me because of how the nature of horror is expressed through self-rejection; it’s too close to reality to feel like fantasy. Aphex Twin’s music, on the other hand, doesn’t take on a feeling of horror (though those two videos mentioned fit the bill), but it does serve as escapism. There’s nothing natural about it and its artificiality is what might be what finds me regularly returning to it. Some days the last thing I want is more reality.
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- Charles Bradley feat. Menahan Street Band “The World (Is Going Up in Flames)”
- “The World (Is Going Up in Flames)” is from Charles Bradley’s 2011 album, No Time for Dreaming.
- Nilüfer Yanya “Like I Say (I runaway)”
- “Like I Say (I runaway)” is taken from the September 2024 album, My Method Actor. (via Passion of the Weiss)
- Super Duper feat. Sanders Bohlke “Lightning”
- “Lightning” is from Super Duper’s July 2023 album, The Way Back.
- Noveliss & Hir-O “Eye of Thundera”
- “Eye of Thunder” is from Noveliss & Hir-O’s June 2024 album Cyberpunk Rhapsody.
- Joell Ortiz & L’Orange feat. KXNG Crooked “Housing Authority”
- “Housing Authority” is from Joell Ortiz & L’Orange’s collaborative album Signature, released in August 2023.
- Doechii “WAIT”
- “WAIT” is from Doechii’s August 2024 album, Alligator Bites Never Heal.
- Future & Metro Boomin feat. The Weeknd “We Still Don’t Trust You”
- “We Still Don’t Trust You” is the title track from Future & Metro Boomin’s April 2024 collaborative release.
- Madvillain feat. Quasimoto “Shadows of Tomorrow”
- “Shadows of Tomorrow” is from Madvillain’s March 2004 album, Madvillainy.
- Shikimo “Light Wave (Slowed + Reverb)”
- “Light Wave (Slowed + Reverb)” is from Shikimo’s Slowed + Reverb, Vol. 1 EP, released in January 2024.
- Aphex Twin “21TXT1+4 ds8 flngchrods[sketch0.1b] [London 03.06.17]”
- “21TXT1+4 ds8 flngchrods[sketch0.1b]” was originally released on the London 14.09.2019 12″ vinyl, and was re-released in December 2024 on Music From The Merch Desk (2016 – 2023). For more Aphex Twin, check out this deep dive playlist available on Spotify and YouTube.
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