What the actual fuck?
Poor Things is, without a doubt, one of the most bizarre cinematic experiences of recent years. Directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, it confidently leans into its bizarre premise with an irreverence that feels both liberating and confounding. The film presents a world that is meticulously heightened, where social norms are not just questioned but gleefully obliterated.
Emma Stone delivers a fearless performance as Bella, a woman resurrected under Frankensteinian circumstances, who embarks on a journey of self-discovery. The role is beyond challenging, skating on the razor’s edge of absurdity, yet Stone’s nuanced portrayal anchors a narrative that’s less about conforming to societal expectations and more about defiantly disregarding them, her childish naïveté giving way to a steely determination to live life on her own terms.
While some have described the film as a feminist coming-of-age tale, others have described it as absolutely bat-shit crazy and disgusting although both interpretations feel somewhat orthogonal to its intent. Bella’s story is not about awakening in a traditional sense; instead, it operates as a power fantasy through the lens of an unorthodox protagonist. Bella’s unapologetically rational and often startling actions – be it engaging in transactional relationships or distributing wealth to the poor without a second thought – upend conventions, leaving her male counterparts baffled or enraged. These moments play out not as morality lessons but as confrontations with deeply entrenched gender roles and expectations, exposing their absurdity by amplifying their rigidity.
The film plays with ideas of sexuality and autonomy in ways that feel deliberately transgressive. Bella’s approach to sex is refreshingly devoid of societal baggage, treating it as a personal exploration rather than a defining characteristic. This detachment, however, clashes with the expectations of those around her, particularly the odious Duncan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo), whose initially exploitative intentions unravel in the face of Bella’s disarmingly unencumbered worldview, dynamically capturing the broader themes of control and liberation. Through the film’s refusal to address real-world consequences – like the implications of sex or the fallout of its more extreme moments – the audience is forced into a sort of stupefied alienation, almost dumbfounded by its own social mores and cherished taboos being so flagrantly distorted by this fun house mirror of a movie.
Visually, Poor Things embraces a strikingly artificial aesthetic, which amplifies the surreal quality of Bella’s journey. The sets and costumes are lavishly detailed yet intentionally detached from reality, creating a playground for Lanthimos’ exploration of heightened reality. This aesthetic feels reminiscent of Terry Gilliam’s work, particularly The Adventures of Baron Munchausen, with its similarly elaborate, surreal designs and embrace of theatrical artifice, making Poor Things an ersatz Munchausen by proxy. Baron Munchausen’s predilection for hyperbolic obfuscation ties neatly into the film’s thematic ambiguity, with Poor Things echoing Gilliam’s penchant for unreliable narration and the blurring of fantasy and reality. Are we meant to view Bella as the ultimate liberated hero, a desperately wronged and maliciously manipulated victim or is she a cipher for broader social commentary? The film resists easy answers, a choice that can both delight and dismay.
Ultimately, Poor Things is a paradox – a film that delights in pugnacious and provocative chaos while challenging the audience to make sense of it. It is as much a celebration of individuality as it is an interrogation of societal norms, leaving viewers to grapple with its layered, often contradictory messages. It is a film best approached with open expectations, for while it may confound, it does so with style, wit, and an undeniable commitment to its singular vision.
