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Partway through The Substance, a body horror film from French writer and director Coralie Fargeat, there’s a brightly lit, low-angle close-up on Demi Moore’s bare butt. “It’s like, ugh,” Moore moans, “it bugs the shit out of me.” She could have asked for it to be edited differently, but as much as she dislikes it—and really, show me a woman who would enjoy seeing such a shot of her derrière on the big screen—“I didn’t ask for any adjustments because I knew it was in service of something that was more important than me,” Moore says. “It felt like any hardship, any exposure of my own insecurities, would be worth it if I was part of bringing forward the conversation.”
In The Substance, Moore plays Elisabeth Sparkle, an actress turned television fitness instructor, who is fired from her show on her 50th birthday and resorts to taking a neon substance that turns her into a twentysomething version of herself named Sue (played by Margaret Qualley), eventually with monstrous results. Moore knew that the role, with its full-body nudity and purposefully unflattering lighting, would challenge her—and that’s exactly what she wanted. “There was an incredibly liberating aspect to stepping into this really vulnerable, exposed place emotionally and physically,” Moore tells me, her micro Chihuahua, Pilaf, napping peacefully beside her on a sofa in her L.A. living room. “The film gave me the opportunity to look at where my ego was kind of running the show, where I was giving up my power, and it pushed me to find a little bit more gentility and acceptance of myself as I am.”
You could argue Moore’s career has been uniquely intertwined with her body. Moore shot to stardom with steamy roles in Ghost and Indecent Proposal, and famously posed naked at seven months pregnant on the August 1991 cover of Vanity Fair. Striptease made her the highest-paid actress in Hollywood, but because she took her clothes off to portray a sex worker (“the dancing was massively uncomfortable for me,” Moore says), she was criticized for having set women back. So she went in the opposite direction, shaving her head and sculpting her body to portray a female soldier in G.I. Jane. “I changed my body multiple times through different roles, and I think I chose those roles, whether it was conscious or not, for the very opportunity to find some peace and self-love. And when I did find that, it was only by really surrendering and letting go of what the outside was going to look like.”
Offscreen, she was told her body was a problem. She developed an eating disorder; she went through periods of extreme exercise. “There is a lot of torment I put myself through when I was younger,” Moore says. “The perfect example is when I was told to lose weight multiple times. The producer pulled me aside. It was very embarrassing and humiliating. But that’s just one thing. How I internalized it and how it moved me to a place of such torture and harshness against myself, of real extreme behaviors, and that I placed almost all the value of who I was on my body being a certain way—that’s on me.”
Moore never left Hollywood entirely, continuing to produce films and perform bit parts, but when she was no longer young enough to be deemed hot, yet still too hot to fit Hollywood’s image of a mom, she says she struggled to find dynamic leading roles that uplifted and excited her. “I wasn’t 20 or 30, but I wasn’t what they imagined 40 or 50 was either,” Moore says. “They didn’t quite know where I fit, and that’s not just something I made up—that was conveyed to me.”
When she read the script for The Substance, she was struck by all it had to say about impossible beauty standards; how aging women are made to feel invisible and unwanted in a society that prizes youth; and the “compare and despair” we feel in judging ourselves against others. “Too often, we’re looking at the better us as somewhere outside of us,” Moore says. “And the truth is, all of the answers, all of the resources, everything is within us.” She recalls a moment with her middle daughter, Scout, who once told her she wanted to “quit wasting time focusing on all that I’m not, when I could be celebrating all that I am.”
“And that for me is exactly it,” Moore says. “While we’re so focused on what we’re not, we miss out on the beauty of all that we are. The thing is, I do have love for my body, but it’s more about appreciation—I can really appreciate all that my body does for me now, not just how it looks,” she says. “And the more I appreciate the lines in the corner of my eyes—the more I can find beauty in the life that I’ve lived—the more my life has beauty.”
On appearing in Charlie’s Angels: Full Throttle in a swimsuit at age 40
I never imagined in a million years that the shot of me in Charlie’s Angels would become such a big conversation. But I was 40, which meant I shouldn’t have a body that was desirable—that’s what I challenged. I feel like we all have a role to play in life, to be of service, and for whatever reason, I feel like that has been something I’ve been called to do. But I don’t think it would’ve been such a big deal if I hadn’t been of an age that, at that time, it was already determined that you should look like shit.
I do think that’s changed, and now I happen to be 62 at a point where we need to reevaluate the desirability of a woman who has gone through menopause. Women used to be relegated to the sidelines, made to be, in fact, almost asexual. It’s not like I’ve set out to redefine that; it’s really that I’ve just been trying to find what’s truthful and authentic within myself—and if I can do that, then hopefully that reflects for others.
On the awards buzz for her performance in The Substance
It’s a very new experience. Up until now, I’ve never really been brought into that conversation. So I’m feeling a lot of appreciation, and at the same time keeping myself right-sized, because in truth I didn’t know if this film would work at all. It was conceptually so crazy that I really didn’t know. So I’m in this beautiful place of having let go of any expectations, and so everything that’s been happening just feels like this added gift.
On her “only in Hollywood” moment
Gosh, what comes to mind is really just how unglamorous it is. Like the idea of laying naked on a cold tile floor with Margaret Qualley having to fall on top of me. What’s onscreen is this brief moment, versus the entire day I spent there with her having to fall with her full weight on me.
On what amazes her
I’m amazed that I still get to do this. I am still amazed that this is where my life has taken me. I still feel in awe that I am part of this community, that I continue to have the opportunities to grow. Andy Garcia said the other day—we’re both a part of this series with Taylor Sheridan—“Isn’t it amazing? We’re still on the menu.”
On the through line in her career
I feel like there has been a through line in doing things that have challenged the status quo and that have been very thought-provoking. For example, Ghost questioned what our relationship is to those who’ve passed in our life—do we lose people forever, or are they still with us?—and at that time, there wasn’t as much conversation around that. So I’ve definitely pushed the envelope of our perception.
On the film that taught her the most
G.I. Jane gave me so much insight into the differences in how men and women move through the world. I really feel like I gained this external strength, but when the movie was over, I realized that I didn’t want to wear it. I just wanted to move it inward. The other thing I got that was very, very powerful: There’s a saying in the Navy SEALs that “Two is one, and one is none,” and there was something that was so deeply profound about that to me. For them, it’s about straight-up survival—the idea that you never leave your buddy behind. But I really took the depth of that into my life, realizing that we don’t need to walk life alone.
On the challenges facing women directors in Hollywood
I look forward to a day when we’re not needing to create the separation between men and women in directing, because that will mean we’ve really come the distance, and we will then be walking hand in hand in our humanity of just us as filmmakers and creatives, and women being marginalized in any way would no longer exist.
On a life lesson that stuck with her
When I was much younger, I remember speaking to this woman about not feeling good enough. And this woman said to me in a very gentle, loving way, “You will never be good enough. But you can know the value of your worth if you just put down the measuring stick.”
Lead Image: Jacket, shorts, Gucci. Earrings, bracelet, Harry Winston. Pumps, Giuseppe Zanotti.
Hair by Gregory Russell for Pureology; makeup by Holly Silius for Byredo; manicure by Eri Ishizu for Dior; set design by Din Morris; produced by Dana Brockman at Viewfinders; special thanks to Image Locations.
A version of this story appears in the December 2024/January 2025 issue of ELLE.
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