The first few seconds of The Substance are enough to tell you what kind of movie this is going to be. It confronts you almost immediately with an uncomfortable truth. The movie offers a reality check of how society (particularly men) perceives women, reducing them to their appearance, their bodies, and their ability to remain desirable. I have read articles and reviews that already expose the movie’s harsh truth about toxic beauty standards, Hollywood culture, addiction, self-destruction, the male gaze, loss of identity, ageism, etc. All this is undeniably true but as a student of psychology, the movie repeatedly brought me back to a concept that Carl Rogers talked about—the real self and the ideal self.
At its core, the movie is a story about what happens when the distance between who we are and who we believe we wish to be becomes unbearable. It shows how this gap does not remain harmless for long. Instead, it begins to shape how we see ourselves, how we relate to our bodies, and how much of ourselves we are willing to erase in order to feel accepted.
The real self is who we actually are (in the movie, Elizabeth Sparkle represents the real self), and the ideal self is who we wish to be (in the movie, Sue represents the ideal self). When these two selves are aligned, a person experiences psychological well-being. But when there is a persistent incongruence between them, it often results in inner conflict, dissatisfaction, and emotional distress.
When Elizabeth uses the “substance” in an attempt to become a “better” version of herself, it quite literally gives birth to Sue (the scene where Sue emerges from Elizabeth’s body). Here, the movie externalizes the psychological conflict through the body itself in a haunting way. The body becomes the site where expectations, shame, desire, and self-worth collide. What begins as a promise of becoming “better” slowly reveals itself as a rejection of the real self. The character’s perceived self (how Elizabeth believes she is seen) starts to matter more than how she actually feels inside her own skin.
This rejection becomes especially evident in the scene where Elizabeth prepares for a date (which I call the moment of realization). As she repeatedly looks into the mirror, she applies more lipstick, mascara, and makeup. The act of self-preparation soon turns into self-surveillance. The moment escalates into frustration and violence as she ruins her own makeup because she was unable to reconcile the body she sees with the self she wishes to present. It is not vanity that drives this scene, but the despair and painful awareness that her real self no longer aligns with her ideal self.
The movie also powerfully demonstrates the conditions of worth that Rogers described. It is the idea that acceptance is often conditional. We are loved, valued, or recognised only when we meet certain standards. The movie mirrors this painfully well. Through Harvey, Elizabeth’s boss, the movie repeatedly reinforces the message that worth is tied to youth, beauty, and desirability. There is little or no space for authenticity to exist. When acceptance depends on constant change, the self learns that it is never enough as it is.
As the movie progresses, it becomes clear that the pursuit of the ideal self does not lead to fulfillment. Instead, it deepens the fracture within. The further Elizabeth moves away from her real self, the more alienated she becomes from her body, from her emotions, and her sense of identity.
The Substance can be read through many psychological lenses, and perhaps that is because identity itself is never singular. It is shaped by personal experiences, social expectations, and the gaze of others.
Yet beneath all these layers, the movie asks a deeply human question: What happens when we stop listening to who we are, and begin living only for who we are expected to be?
Rogers believed that psychological growth does not come from constant self-correction but from acceptance. We have to allow our real self to exist without conditions. What makes this movie so unsettling is not merely the transformation that it depicts, but the truth it reveals. That when the pursuit of the ideal self is driven by rejection rather than self-understanding it can become an act of violence against oneself.
Perhaps the movie is not only a critique of beauty standards or external pressures, but a reminder of something far more intimate. And healing begins not with becoming someone else, but with permitting ourselves to be who we already are. It begins when we allow ourselves to act as our authentic selves rather than live in someone else’s shoes forever.
Comments
Post a Comment