Demi Moore on The Substance, ‘Ghost’ Remake and Body Positivity

“I’m warning you: She loves to dominate a teddy bear,” Demi Moore says as her teacup Chihuahua, Pilaf, toddles into the room. Moore, perched on a kitchen stool in her Los Angeles home, watches her dog with a sly smile. “You’re going to see some humping.”

Pilaf has had a busy year — she was featured in Vogue, and seen in the front rows of Paris Fashion Week — so bringing her to the Cannes Film Festival in May was a risk: Would the pint-size bundle of cuteness upstage her owner at the premiere of her blood-drenched horror film “The Substance”? Perhaps Moore knew the role was more beastly than her little pet could ever be.

“I didn’t know how the movie was going to go,” Moore admits as Pilaf, now in the family room, ravages her stuffed animal in a patch of sunlight. “It’s so out of the box. It could have either really worked or been a disaster. To be completely transparent, body horror is not a genre I was extremely familiar with.”

But French writer-director Coralie Fargeat clearly was, drawing on Robert Zemeckis’ “Death Becomes Her,” David Cronenberg’s “The Fly” and Stanley Kubrick’s “The Shining” as she depicts Moore literally splitting open to reveal a younger, more perfect version of herself, played by Margaret Qualley. Moore’s character, Elisabeth Sparkle — an Oscar-winning actress who became a daytime-TV fitness guru in later life — is bereft after a vile network executive (Dennis Quaid) cancels her show. So much so that she takes a back-alley drug that uses her DNA to create an improved replica, with the strict rule that Elisabeth must switch between her two identities, old and young, every seven days — or else. It’s symbolically rich twice over: first, for anyone who’s ever noticed a wrinkle in the mirror and wanted to wish it away, and second, for those of us seeing Moore in a fresh light.

As the faded star whose self-loathing creates a kind of self-absorbed doppelgänger who could destroy them both, Moore has never been more electric onscreen. “The part needed to be embodied by an actress who was a symbol herself,” Fargeat says. “But I knew those kinds of actresses would be frightened by jumping into something that confronts them with their own phobias. Demi was at a stage in her life where she has confronted all the fears her character has and the violence and self-hatred it can bring on you. She has processed all that in a peaceful way.”

In stark contrast to Elisabeth, who strips away her flesh while seeking approval from men, Moore, at 61, has never been more comfortable in her own skin. “The film raises an important idea: When you chase after something you think is better, you risk losing what you have,” she says.

It was a long road to get here: After Moore established herself as an actress to watch in 1984’s “St. Elmo’s Fire” and 1986’s “About Last Night,” her career exploded in the 1990s when she led the box office with hits such as “Indecent Proposal,” “Disclosure” and, of course, “Ghost.” But when she entered her highest-paid-female-star-in-the-world era, with films like “Striptease” and “G.I. Jane,” and appeared nude and very pregnant on the cover of Vanity Fair, her body was the story. Somehow, her talent was an afterthought.

After suffering a string of flops, she stepped out of the spotlight before the spotlight could abandon her as it did Elisabeth Sparkle, raising her three children (with then-husband Bruce Willis) in Hailey, Idaho.

But with her revealing 2019 memoir “Inside Out” and dark turns in projects like “Feud: Capote vs. the Swans” and now “The Substance,” Moore has shown a willingness to crack open her iconic image to reveal something grittier within. Qualley says Moore was relentless in fine-tuning her character, “always on the tip of refinement, understanding it more after every take.”

“The Substance,” which thrilled Cannes and will screen at the Toronto International Film Festival this week, has earned Moore the best reviews of her career and even some Oscar buzz. It’s a reminder of just what audiences have been missing.

Get ready for the Demi-ssance.

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Let’s start with the 11-minute standing ovation this movie got in Cannes, your first time with a film in competition.

I’ve read some stories that said it was 13 minutes.

After this, I will sit you down for a long talk about how Variety calculates standing ovations at festivals. It’s fair to say “The Substance” is one of the most brutal films about aging in Hollywood ever made. Why did you say yes?

I felt like it was one of the most interesting ways to explore the subject. While it’s framed around women, I really felt like it was relatable to all of us as humans — the feeling of being discarded, overlooked. A lack of appreciation for who we are.

Coralie told me that you gave her a copy of your autobiography before your first meeting. Why did you do that?

Coralie is extremely cautious and thorough. All in, we met six times before I was officially offered the part. She was meeting with a lot of people, looking to find the right match for the two main characters. I gave her the book as a way of knowing me — my experience with my body, and the value I gave to my body. The personal torture I put myself through. All that seemed to connect to her big time. She knew that I really understood who the character was.

You were open in your book about your struggle to stay thin, and how it almost cost you work. Were you concerned about doing a project that was so body-centric?

I had no fear about the subject matter. I know how relatable the story really is. But I put a lot of thoughtful consideration into the level of vulnerability and rawness that was required. The things that push you out of your comfort zone are also what give you the greatest opportunity for growth.

You’ve always conveyed your sexuality in fascinating and artistic ways, both on-screen and with your memorable Vanity Fair covers. You got a lot of criticism for it, especially in the ’90s. For “Striptease,” much of the conversation around the film was about your topless scenes and your salary.

One of the biggest misconceptions about me is that I loved my body. The reality is, so much of it was me calling in certain projects that would give me an opportunity to help me overcome insecurities about my body. It was the same with the Vanity Fair covers; it was not that I loved it — it was about trying to free myself from the space of enslavement that I had put myself in.

The other truth is, things that are provocative — not in a sexual way, but things that provoke meaningful thought — have always fascinated me. Take “Striptease”: There was an interesting kind of judgment placed on a woman who worked as a dancer, but the idea was that this was a woman trying to take care of her child in the best way she could. With “G.I. Jane,” I thought, “If a woman is skilled enough and has the desire to (serve), why wouldn’t we want her there?” I didn’t understand why that door was closed. Many of my films had similar themes. “Indecent Proposal” and “Disclosure” are similar in a sense. We’d never seen a woman as the aggressor, as the abuser.

Have you ever lost out on a part you wanted because of the provocative roles you’ve taken?

I don’t know if I would say I lost out. What do you mean, specifically?

Were there other, more serious dramatic parts you wanted, similar to what you did in “The Scarlet Letter”? I guess that one didn’t really connect.

Well, Roland Joffé — an Englishman — decided to change a classic piece of American literature and give it a happy ending. We had a producer on that film who didn’t think it would be successful if it had a tragic ending, which I had no control over. That same producer also referred to me as a “popcorn actress” — meaning I’m not a critically acclaimed kind of actress.

I hope he read the reviews for “The Substance.”

It’s interesting, because that has stayed with me, holding that perception against myself. But there are a lot of my films that I don’t feel got any kind of consideration in that regard.

Which ones do you think didn’t get the credit they deserved?

If I really look at “G.I. Jane,” there was a faction of people out to shut that movie down before it even opened. I did “Striptease” and “G.I. Jane” back to back. If anything in this industry has ever been stacked against me, it was having those two films come out at the same time and becoming the highest-paid actress on top of that. That moment was so powerful for me because it wasn’t just about me; it was about changing the playing field for all women. But because I was portraying a stripper, I betrayed women. And because I played a soldier, I betrayed men.

The narrative quickly became “Well, she’s only getting paid that number because she’s playing a stripper.” It hit me really hard. But at the same time, I understood that anybody who steps out first is going to take the hit. That goes for anybody challenging the status quo.

If you could do it over, would you make those movies again?

Oh, definitely. They gave me so much. That’s ultimately all I have, my experience.

You’re one of a handful of actresses who are instantly associated with an unforgettable movie moment — you and Patrick Swayze at the pottery wheel in “Ghost,” for instance. Why has that movie endured?

There’s something comforting about the movie. It’s about the things we might perceive as lost never really leaving us.

Do people send you pottery?

I was terrible at making the pottery in “Ghost,” by the way. I did hear that pottery had a resurgence in the pandemic. People were buying kilns.

There’s been a few attempts to remake this movie, most recently with Channing Tatum. What do you think?

There are some films better left alone, but it depends on what the take is. The success of “Ghost” is really about alchemy. Think about Whoopi, who anchored the comedy in a magical way. Or Tony Goldwyn, the boy next door who is the most unsuspecting villain. And the sweetness and virility of Patrick Swayze. Channing is incredibly intelligent and talented — who knows what he would bring to it if it happened.

Would you be open to reprising your role?

I’d have to see what they come up with.

I was surprised by the way the media treated you in the ’90s. Can I read some of their remarks and questions to you?

Please.

For “A Few Good Men,” a male journalist sat with you for 10 minutes and didn’t ask a single question. He critiqued your appearance and called you “sexy, but classy.”

Hmm.

Barbara Walters asked if you felt “degraded” while filming “Striptease,” at the same time that she said she understood why you’d bear your naked body since it was so beautiful.

Interesting.

Rosie O’Donnell said that “G.I. Jane,” in which you famously shaved your head, gave “new meaning to the word ‘topless.’”

OK, that’s fucking funny.

I don’t think any of this would fly today.

What you just said means things have changed. There’s still work to be done, obviously, but the point is progress, not perfection.

When it comes to pursuing perfection, in “The Substance” you have to quickly establish the sense of despair your character feels over the loss of her youth. How did you get to that place as an actor?

For me, it was finding the place of honesty in the depth of that despair. The rug is pulled out from under her (after she loses her job). We know this woman lives alone, isn’t married and didn’t have children, so it’s clear right away that she had nothing else but fame. She poured everything into that.

There’s something shocking about Elisabeth getting fired from her long-running fitness show for being too old, because she’s still incredibly fit and beautiful. Is that just the entertainment business?

Not showing me as completely broken and unattractive at the beginning was important to the arc. This movie is also about the male perspective of the idealized woman that we as women have bought into. It isn’t about what’s being done to us; it’s about what we’re doing to ourselves. You wonder, after being given a second chance, why she doesn’t branch out, become a producer and create her own show? But no, instead she repeats the same pattern and seeks the same approval.

Your character is also an Oscar winner turned exercise guru.

People always ask what this movie is. I say, put “The Picture of Dorian Gray,” “Death Becomes Her” and a Jane Fonda workout video together, and you’ve got it.

Coralie says that the most intense day for you on set was the scene where Elisabeth is getting ready for a date. She keeps running back to the mirror to wipe off her makeup and then apply even more, fearing she looks too old. Coralie said something broke in you.

It was very difficult. It’s one of the most heart-wrenching moments in the film. I think we can all relate to trying to make ourselves look better, and just making it worse and worse. Coralie likes to do a lot of takes, and my face was just raw. I got to a point where I couldn’t do it anymore. And Coralie still wanted one more take. The makeup artist stepped in and said, “We’re done.”

What was happening at the time?

It was a certain kind of madness. There are three setups to that scene, and easily 15 takes for each. Also, the idea of looking at yourself in the mirror and seeing only what’s wrong — it’s like you’re seeking to make yourself uglier, so you can look how you feel.

Did making “The Substance” change how you feel about aging?

It’s not hugely different before and after. But it gave me a greater appreciation for myself as I am. One of the biggest themes of my career is challenging preconceived ideas and limitations. I’m at a point where I’m writing my own story, as opposed to my story being dictated to me based on my age.

Who says somebody can’t look a certain way or do certain things? Your 60s is not what your 60s used to be. There’s a part of me that’s enjoying figuring it out as I go along. I had more challenges, particularly in my career, in my 40s than I do now. At that time, no one quite knew what to do with me. I wasn’t 30, but I wasn’t 40 in a way that people could comfortably identify me as a mother, etc. There was no place for me.

You did the “Charlie’s Angels” sequel in your 40s.

I turned 40 on that movie. After that, there was so much focus on my external self; no one knew where to put me. But I do feel like things have changed. We see so many more interesting roles for women who are 40 to 50 — what I would call “young women.” “The Substance” is harsh in how it tackles the entertainment industry, its judgments and its beauty standards. But it’s also throwing this idea that a woman’s desirability ends with her fertility in Hollywood’s face.

There’s a terrible scene where Dennis Quaid’s network boss sits you down and basically says that women are useless once menopause starts.

Yes, he’s saying, “You’re done.” If you look historically, that was true in terms of how women were perceived. In your childbearing years, you were more desirable in a sexual way. Once women got past that point, they were relegated to other roles. The good news is, it’s changing. I did an interview with Michelle Yeoh, and I feel like she’s such an inspiration. She’s breaking through to show there are different places you can go, and that desirability isn’t tied to anything but your being.

Have you ever come across a Quaid-like character in your career, an executive or producer who sat you down and said, “You’re done”?

It’s been less overt. Like I said before, the door was a bit closed in my 40s. I felt it more in what was available to me. But there was other work I needed to do for myself that wasn’t my career. Internal work. I really live with the perspective that everything is happening for us, not to us.

Do you ever watch your movies?

Once in a while, when the family is together, the kids will put something on, and I’ll watch a couple of seconds. But then when I do something like Andrew McCarthy’s “Brat Pack” documentary that just came out, I see little pieces of my work back then, and I go, “Oh, hang on, I was so awful.” Thank God I got the chance to work more.

Why do you think the Brat Pack has reemerged into the culture, particularly with Andrew’s film?

Things find their time. There’s a whole generation that has no clue what “St. Elmo’s Fire” is, but Andrew had a genuine desire to explore the effect it had on those of us who were in it. I know he’s taken a few hits here and there. People really have to put themselves in the place of 22-year-old actors — there was a lot of pressure around us for perfection and no room for failure. There was also no language for mental health back then. There’s an enormity to being in the early stages of a career and fearing being seen as unserious. None of us liked being called a brat. We all grew up with the idea of “brat” being a bad thing.

Have you heard of Brat Summer?

Yes! That young singer Charli. Everything is brat!

(At this point in the conversation, Moore receives some photos via text from her stylist Brad Goreski. While looking at them on her iPad, Moore tenses up.)

What’s wrong?

I’m not perfect. Sometimes I’ll look at a photo and think, “I look old,” or whatever. But I’ve learned to deal with it.

How?

It’s about catching the feeling in the moment and then pivoting. A stranger once told me something a long time ago that’s stuck with me ever since. She said, “You’ll never be enough.”

She just walked up to you and said that?

She said, “You’ll never be enough, but you’ll start to know your worth once you put down the measuring stick.”

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Set Design: Isaac Aaron; Styling: Brad Goreski/The Wall Group; Makeup: Francesca Tolot/Cloutier Remix; Hair:Jesus Guerrero/The Wall Group; Production: Alexey Galetskiy; Look 1 (seated): Dress: Mugler; Rings: Dauphin; Earrings: Nikos Koulis; Shoes: Mugler; Look 2 (cover): Dress: Ashi Studio; Ring: DeBeers; Shoes: Le Silla; Look 3 (laying down): Sweater and shorts: Chloe; Tights: Caledonia; Earrings: Jennifer Meyer; Ring: Walters Faith; Shoes: Le Silla; Look 4 (black dress with gloves): Alaia