Fear, Desire, and Body Horror

It’s taken me a few years to get there, but at this point I’d consider myself an ardent fan of the horror genre. Still, it wasn’t until recently that I took the time to delve into its subgenres—specifically body horror. Two years ago, I watched the movie Tusk in the common area of a cramped dorm room with a dozen other people. It’s a completely ridiculous movie, and while not horrible, I can’t say it’s one I’d recommend. Tusk is a comedy-horror film that follows Justin Long as Wallace, an arrogant podcaster whose trip to perform an interview quickly deteriorates after his subject takes him hostage and methodically mutilates his body until it resembles a walrus. I had a fun enough time with the film, but I’m sure a decent part of that was because of the reactions of the people around me. Unsurprisingly, seeing comedian Justin Long waddle around a makeshift aquarium in a Frankenstein-esque walrus costume didn’t move me to explore more of the genre. In fact, it wasn’t until this past September that my interest would be peaked by French director Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance.

Soley motivated by the knowledge that an actress I like, Margaret Qualley, was going to be in the film, I went into The Substance completely blind. After seeing her in films like Sanctuary, Drive-Away Dolls, and Kinds of Kindness earlier that year, I was confident that any production she was a part of would be a good watch. In hindsight, I do think it would have been fun to experience The Substance in the same way I had experienced Tusk: surrounded by people totally unprepared for what they were about to see on screen. Still, I consider my first watch of The Substance one of the most memorable theater experiences I’ve had. Sat next to my friend on a random September weekday just one row behind the only other person in the theater, I watched a film I’d told myself after ever scene couldn’t possibly get crazier top itself again and again until the credits rolled.

The Substance follows Demi Moore as Elizabeth Sparkle, a Hollywood star that is aging out of the business. After being fired from her job as a television personality because of her age, Elizabeth is presented for with the opportunity to try a new mysterious drug called The Substance. Once injected, The Substance creates a “better, more perfect” version of the original body with a shared consciousness. For Elizabeth, The Substance creates Sue, played by Margaret Qualley. The catch is that only Elizabeth or Sue can be awake at a given time, and to maintain their bodies, they must switch every seven days. While Sue soon takes on Elizabeth’s old job and former glory, Elizabeth chooses to spend her seven days of consciousness rotting away alone in her penthouse. Predictably, Sue’s existence goes from aiding to Elizabeth’s insecurities to intensifying them, and The Substance’s rules are soon disregarded.

While watching The Substance for the first time, I expected the first real instance of body horror, Sue’s “birth” to be as far as the film would go in terms of gore. For those of you who have yet to see the film, I encourage you to go in with less naivety. Every time you think that the film couldn’t possibly get more extreme, it does—finally concluding with a mess of blood, guts, and disembodied breasts. It was one of my favorite movies of 2025. Unlike its predecessor Tusk, The Substance encouraged me to learn more about body horror, a genre whose origins are most often traced back to David Cronenberg.

David Cronenberg is a filmmaker that’s intrigued me for quite some time. He’s a Canadian director and screenwriter best known for inventing what we understand to be “body horror.” While it can seem like a simple subgenre at first, its nuances become clearer the more of it you consume. As StudioBinder defines it, “the key difference between this sub-genre and other types of gory horror is that it isn’t about the human body being destroyed. Rather, it is about being transformed into something grotesque.” The difference between destruction and transformation is small, but important. It denotes a sense of compassion you may not expect to see from a genre that often depicts people turning into violent monsters. After watching The Substance, I watched three Cronenberg films in quick succession: The Fly, Videodrome, and Crash, two of which quickly became two of my favorite movies. Cronenberg created what I believe to be the saddest and most personal form of horror. The Fly and Videodrome are great horror films with even greater prosthetics that have haunted my mind significantly longer than I expected any horror movie from the 80s to do. But besides that, both films are about men who take their desire to succeed in their careers too far. In The Fly, Brundle (Jeff Goldblum) brash determination to solve teleportation results in him turning himself into an insect. In Videodrome, Max Renn (James Woods) suffers violent visions while trying to produce the most watched adult television show in Toronto, eventually leading to him commit suicide. Ambition is an admirable trait, but like anything, it can be taken too far. In the case of these two men, their investment in their work results in the distress of the women around them. As their devotion transforms to egomania, their bodies transform in turn. And while Crash wasn’t my favorite of the Cronenberg films I watched, I think its departure from the sci-fi genre made the characters’ vices even more visceral. Seeing a group of people so concerned about achieving sexual satisfaction that they’d put themselves and, more importantly, others in danger is a terrifying thought, but it’s also sad.

It may sound cliché, but at its core, body horror is about exploring the human condition. Even in a film as silly as Tusk, you’re forced to reflect on how the character’s weakness—his hubris—was the catalyst for his body’s eventual transformation. After spending 90 minutes tolerating Wallace’s conceit, it’s not until the final scene, wherein Walrus-Wallace cries inside what appears to be a petting zoo, that he finally feels human. The irony of this arrogant podcaster being able to communicate little more than wails is not lost. Of course, in more competently made body-horror films, this idea of our vices warping our physical bodies is even more stirring. This is especially the case when it comes to the work of Coralie Fargeat, who has a distinctive female perspective in movies like The Substance and her debut film Revenge feel even more relatable and relevant than the work of her predecessor. Body-horror allows screenwriters and directors an excellent opportunity to use the human form as a visual metaphor for either the corruption itself, or their desire to rid themselves of them, often taken in vain. These feelings are carnal and disgusting, but perhaps the most horrific part is how common they are.