Yorgos Lanthimos’s Poor Things isn’t just a film; it’s a cinematic experience best viewed on the biggest screen possible. The visual creativity of the set design, cinematography, and costume design is so overwhelming it might leave you feeling giddy. The film adapts Alasdair Gray’s book, offering a unique take on the Frankenstein mythos, where a mad doctor breathes life back into a corpse. But what is Poor Things really about beyond its stunning visuals and surreal plot?
Bella Baxter, the reanimated protagonist, is thrust into a world she must learn anew. Her journey is fueled by a thirst for adventure, a childlike curiosity, and an unbridled sense of discovery. The film hinges on Bella’s perspective as she navigates the complexities of existence.
One memorable scene captures Bella’s sheer delight as she discovers the emotional power of music and dance. The choreography, and Mark Ruffalo’s surprisingly graceful and amusing performance, amplify the scene’s impact.
The sets further emphasize the story’s surreal nature. Nothing appears natural, creating a committed and stylized world. The fictional Lisbon, and the ship, are standouts. Emma Stone rightly earned a Golden Globe for her portrayal of Bella Baxter, and an Oscar might follow. Willem Defoe’s subtle performance and Mark Ruffalo’s over-the-top portrayal are also noteworthy. Ruffalo’s initially jarring English accent becomes surprisingly fitting for his character.
Poor Things isn’t for the faint of heart. The surgical experiment that brings Bella into existence is unsettling. There is also a significant amount of sexual content. Those easily offended by these elements should perhaps avoid the film. However, doing so means missing a truly special cinematic creation. So, what is Poor Things trying to tell us?
Poor Things is a meditation on innocence, exploration, and human nature. It challenges our perceptions, questions our censorship of behavior, and examines the societal norms we impose on one another. Watching these norms disregarded can be both deeply unsettling and strangely liberating.
Crucially, Poor Things is also a comedy. It elicits frequent laughter, even if, at times, that laughter seems to be a solitary experience in a crowded theater. Comedy and pathos often intertwine. Humor and heartbreak are two sides of the same coin. What one person finds amusing may shock or sadden another. What evokes joy in one viewer may appear strange to someone else. This subjectivity is inherent in storytelling. The reader/listener/viewer contributes their own interpretation, making their response an integral part of the artwork’s composition. Some might consider the film’s open exploration of sexuality as a form of exploitation while others interpret it as a woman’s journey of self-discovery.
Ultimately, Poor Things is a film that encourages viewers to confront uncomfortable truths and to question the very foundations of their own understanding of the world. The film asks what is Poor Things if not a mirror reflecting the best and worst of humanity back at ourselves. It is about the journey of self-discovery, societal expectations, and the freedom to define one’s own existence, making it a thought-provoking and unforgettable cinematic experience.
