Story

Titane is about Alexia, a young woman who experiences a traumatic car accident as a child, leaving her with a metal plate in her head. As Alexia grows up, she grapples with the impact of this incident, developing a strange fixation on cars and a tendency towards violent, sexual behaviour. One of the central themes of Titane is Alexia’s rejection of her biological family. After the car crash, she seems to feel her that parents had failed to properly protect her. So Alexia runs away, seeking to build a new “chosen family” that will accept her for who she is, rather than trying to fit into the family she was born into. This is a journey that will surely resonate with many viewers, especially those in the LGBTQ+ community who have had to distance themselves from unaccepting relatives. Alexia’s acts of shocking violence, including stabbing her sexual partners, stem from this deep desire to find belonging and forge her own identity.

Review

Mirrors and reflections play a major role as Alexia struggles to reconcile her outward appearance with her true sense of self. The film’s Gothic, sci-fi-tinged aesthetic  reinforces the idea of the human body as something unstable and ever-changing. Through Alexia’s journey, Titane delves into a valid question: are we still “human” if our bodies have become radically altered?

Ducournau isn’t afraid to push boundaries and make audiences uncomfortable as she wrestles with weighty subject matter. Another particularly striking aspect of Titane is the way it links trauma, violence, and sexuality. Alexia’s car accident as a child has clearly left deep scars, manifesting in her strange erotic fixation on automobiles. Even her sexual encounters with human partners involve shocking acts of brutality, as if Alexia can only express intimacy through violence. This unsettling blending of the erotic and the horrific is a trademark of Ducournau’s filmmaking.

She’s unafraid to explore the uglier, more primal sides of human nature and desire. In Titane, this results in some genuinely disturbing yet captivating sequences, like Alexia’s explicit dance routines atop fire trucks. Particularly powerful is the way Ducournau connects Alexia’s violence to the larger societal violence and discrimination often faced by LGBTQ+ individuals. Alexia’s attacks on her sexual partners, both male and female, mirror the senseless acts of hatred directed at queer and trans people in the real world. Titane forces the audience to confront the trauma and rage that can build up when one’s identity is continuously denied or attacked.

Titane is a bold, boundary-pushing work of cinema that further solidifies Ducournau’s reputation as a major talent. Her willingness to tackle complex themes around gender, sexuality, and trauma through the lens of body horror sets her apart from many of her peers. Titane is provocative. At its core, it is a story about the power of finding your own “family,” whether biological or chosen, in the face of trauma and societal rejection. Alexia’s journey may be extreme, but her struggles to define her identity and carve out a space of belonging is thought-provoking and unsettling.

The Gothic, sci-fi-tinged aesthetic  reinforces the idea of the human body as something unstable and ever-changing. Through Alexia’s journey, Titane delves into a valid question: are we still “human” if our bodies have become radically altered?

The story focuses on Elizabeth Sparkle, a famous Hollywood actress who is dropped from her long-running aerobics TV show because of her age. Fearing her losing fame, Elizabeth resorts to a dangerous black market drug that promises to restore her youth. But the path this choice takes her on is physically and mentally horrific. The film uses Elizabeth’s transformation to symbolise society’s obsession with staying young and the devastating costs that come with it.

Demi Moore and Margaret Qualley give extremely impressive performances that capture Elizabeth’s desperation and vulnerability perfectly. Their acting brings the character’s degradation to life with realism, and shows how the pressure to look young can consume someone. The horror here is not just in Elizabeth’s physical transformation, but in what she is willing to do to stay relevant. This central fear of ageing and losing one’s identity feels very real, and the film’s body horror elements make it even more disturbing.

Ferzat’s use of sound and visuals further enhances this feeling. The film has little dialogue, allowing the background score to fill the silence and convey emotion and tension without words. The cinematography and prosthetics combine to show Elizabeth’s transformations in a way that is not only shocking but unforgettable, making the viewer feel just how deep she has fallen into. The combination of eerie sound, elaborate makeup, and terrifying visuals makes it feel as if the film is speaking directly to the viewer.

The Substance criticises not just one person’s fear of ageing, but also the entire entertainment industry’s rigid view of beauty and youth. The film shows how society puts pressure on artists to remain young and thus exposes the dark side of fame, where people are often overlooked. The film suggests that this pressure can lead people down dark paths, where they can completely lose their identity.

For many, The Substance may become a classic because it dares to talk about a subject we often deny—the fear of ageing. The film ends with a powerful lesson , reminding us that life is about change and acceptance, and if we desire to control everything, it can lead us down dangerous paths. In Elizabeth’s journey, we see a reflection of our own anxieties: if we let our desires get out of control, we can become monsters.

In Elizabeth’s journey, we see a reflection of our own anxieties: if we let our desires get out of control, we can become monsters.