When Demi Moore tells Amy Adams that “there is such incredible diversity” in Adams’ choice of roles, Adams learns just how difficult it is to avoid accidentally quoting from one of Moore’s beloved past films. “I realized what I almost said to you, and then I was really embarrassed,” Adams says. “I almost said, ‘Ditto.’”
“Ditto,” of course, is a citation from 1990’s “Ghost” — a code word for the enduring love between Moore’s Molly and Patrick Swayze’s Sam after Sam is murdered. “I cried harder in ‘Ghost’ than I had cried in any movie up to that point in my life,” Adams adds. “You can say ditto!” Moore says.
Their films this year similarly go to great pains — literally! — to tell confrontational, feminist stories about women’s rage. In “Nightbitch,” directed by Marielle Heller, Adams’ character, Mother, faces each day of loving tedium at home with her toddler, Son, and then may or may not begin transforming into a dog. In “The Substance,” directed by Coralie Fargeat, Elisabeth Sparkle (Moore) is an actress on the wrong side of 50 who takes extreme measures to preserve her youth — as in, after injecting the mysterious titular drug, she births the body of Sue (Margaret Qualley), a perfect younger version of herself.
In this conversation, Moore and Adams go deep on their performances, from a scene in which Moore’s Elisabeth wipes makeup off her face again and again in an act of self-abnegation to the time Adams’ Mother discovers that she’s perhaps … growing a tail?!
AMY ADAMS: I saw “The Substance.” As always, you’re amazing. Amazing. When you read the script, was it like you totally were there?
DEMI MOORE: Thank you. On the page, I could see that this was such a unique, interesting way of exploring this subject matter, which was, I felt, really important. And the way in which she was wanting to tell it was such an out-of-the-box exploration, taking us with the whole idea of body horror. I thought it was so relatable. But the thing that hooked me in the most was the violence that we can have against ourselves. The way in which we can dissect, criticize — and also, just looking at it from an actor’s perspective, doing something where there was very little dialogue.
ADAMS: It took me a while into the movie to recognize how alone you were, and how so much of the storytelling was just on your experience. It was so powerful, and I so deeply resonated with that idea of self-critical …
MOORE: Oh, the self-sabotage. Obviously, I feel very different than who she is. She has no friends, no family, no other reflections outside of that external validation. But I feel like I could relate to it from a slightly objective place — but having really been in it, ironically, much more when I was younger. The script, I was blown away from the moment the back opens up and another entity comes out.
ADAMS: So cool! The body-horror aspect of it was interesting, because I was warned, right? But I, of course, love that stuff.
MOORE: The interesting part was stepping into something that was really also stripping myself down — really knowing that this was a depth of vulnerability and rawness that I don’t know if I’ve ever had a chance to step into. Which makes me think about having watched you in “Nightbitch,” which I feel like equally goes to such a raw, vulnerable, untethered kind of space, in which you were once again brilliant.
ADAMS: Thank you.
MOORE: What was it like to also be working with a child and animals on top of it all?
ADAMS: It’s a set of 3-year-old twins. I mean, I definitely had very active co-stars. My set was the loudest, with three or four people, and either dog trainers or parents. You can only do so much preparation in cases like that, and then the rest of it has to be so flexible. It really forced me into being present in each moment. So much of what went into the relationship with the boy was developed not only by me, but by Marielle Heller and Scoot McNairy [who plays Husband] and the entire crew, because we had to create an environment that didn’t happen just between action and cut. We were always in conversation, always in relationship in between takes, always in play. There wasn’t a lot of downtime really. It was really about creating a relationship so when we started rolling, it was just a continuation. Their parents were so great. They gave us so much trust. I spent a lot of time on set with them and really just built up a friendship and a relationship. They called me “movie mama.”
MOORE: Movie mama! It was very relatable in that sense of losing oneself, particularly when your priority shifts so completely where it’s entirely with somebody else in the No. 1 position.
ADAMS: Also, she had a really unique narrative, and she gets to believe or actually turns into a dog, and sort of be in touch with an ancestral rage.
MOORE: By the way, that is the question! Did she really become a dog?
ADAMS: I believe that she believes. That is the question! But I love how both of our films also deal with surrealism and mysticism, and these elements of rage.
MOORE: Women in general, there is a sense of it not being OK to be angry. Not that anybody’s saying we can’t be, but that it’s been in a way the collective consciousness of like, “Oh, that’s not attractive.”
ADAMS: You’ve raised daughters, and I’ve had to really work on being like, “Oh my gosh, you’re such a good … No, don’t say it. You’re a good person, and I’m really proud of you.” Instead of …
MOORE: “You’re a good girl.”
ADAMS: Because there was something about that that I recognized I was paralyzed by for parts of my life. I remember watching you and thinking, “That’s what it is to be a woman.”
MOORE: Oh!
ADAMS: No, because you were strong, and you were authoritative. You always felt like you owned your own identity. I do want to know, because I’ve done prosthetics work, but I’ve never done anything to the extent of what you did. And the way that you were able to physically embody those prosthetics so they became a part of you — what was that like?
MOORE: It’s definitely an easier read on paper than sitting there. Anywhere from six to nine and a half hours in the chair. I mean, I can get quite Zen and still, but it is a lot to then have to go out. I had to very quickly figure out what is the body? What is the language of this aspect of this person? Because it was grounded in reality, but not: I am in this aged, degraded body, but I can tear down a hallway. But more hardcore was 15 takes of wiping my face off.
ADAMS: I was watching it with my husband, and he was gasping at different parts of the body horror, which didn’t bother me. That bothered me. I was like, “She’s going to hurt herself.” It was so violent.
MOORE: But such an important piece. That was this moment that she almost could have stepped out of the self-imposed prison. And it’s also a moment that is the most anchored in, I think, our own humanness. I don’t know about you, but I’ve been in front of that mirror trying to make something a little better, only to make it worse. Where no amount of trying to change it on the outside is going to repair the wound that’s on the inside. But such a strange experience that I’m playing off my own reflection, which you have also.
ADAMS: Yeah, I do that a couple of times, where I’m pulling my hair and examining my face. I love that Marielle Heller approached it with such a sense of humor, and it was something that we both agreed was funny.
MOORE: I mean, the tuft in the back — I was dying.
ADAMS: She’s like, “All right, OK — I think I want to go with it.” It’s that radical acceptance, and I think that’s something the character starts to have for herself. That was something that I had a great time practicing on that film, this idea of radical acceptance.
MOORE: It’s just going, “I am who I am.” That message, I think, we share in both of these films, which is finding the love of self in whatever moment we’re in. I remember getting to a point with my middle daughter, Scout, and her saying, “I want to quit focusing on all that I’m not when I could be celebrating all that I am.”
ADAMS: Oh my gosh, I love that.
MOORE: I have to say, I felt like, “Ooh, I’ve done a good job!”
Production: Emily Ullrich; Lighting Director: Max Bernetz; Set Direction: Gille Mills
From Variety US