A Curious Case: A Look at Yorgos Lanthimos’ “Poor Things”

Yorgos Lanthimos has a knack for weaving unsettling narratives with captivating visuals. His latest, “Poor Things,” based on the novel by Alasdair Grey, is no exception. It throws us into a world that feels both familiar and bizarre, following the story of Bella Baxter (Emma Stone), a woman brought back to life through unorthodox scientific means.

The opening is a sensory overload. Black and white visuals pulsate with a disorienting energy, mirroring Bella’s childlike innocence as she grapples with her new existence. We soon learn that Bella is not your average reanimated corpse. Possessing the memories of a drowned young woman but the uninhibited mind of a newborn, she approaches the world with wide-eyed wonder, unburdened by societal constraints. This unique perspective forms the core of the film’s humour and intrigue.

As Bella ventures out into the world with the charming but feckless lawyer, Mr. Astley (Mark Ruffalo), the film takes on a vibrant, almost dreamlike quality. The production design is a feast for the eyes. Think Victorian-era sensibilities splashed with moments of outlandish whimsy, from opulent drawing rooms to fantastical contraptions that wouldn’t look out of place in a steampunk novel. Lanthimos’ signature deadpan humour is sprinkled throughout, delivered with a dry wit by the stellar cast. We have the ever-reliable Willem Dafoe as the eccentric scientist who brought Bella back, his eyes twinkling with an unsettling mixture of genius and mischief.

However, “Poor Things” is much more than a quirky comedy. As Bella grapples with her identity and desires, the film delves into darker territory. The question of what it means to be human and how societal norms shape our lives is explored with surprising depth. Bella’s childlike curiosity about sex and intimacy throws a wrench into the Victorian sensibilities of those around her, particularly her “husband,” the brooding yet insecure Godfrey (Skinny Fat). The film doesn’t shy away from portraying the awkwardness and vulnerability of navigating physical relationships, particularly for someone with such a unique perspective.

The tonal shifts can be jarring at times. The film seamlessly transitions from laugh-out-loud moments, like Bella’s literal interpretation of metaphors, to scenes tinged with genuine pathos. This constant push-and-pull is precisely what makes “Poor Things” so compelling. It forces us to confront uncomfortable truths about ourselves and the often arbitrary rules we live by. We see it reflected in the reactions to Bella’s uninhibited nature. Some find it charming, others unsettling, mirroring the very societal constraints that the film critiques.

The film’s second half takes a sharp turn, introducing a new character and plotline that feels somewhat disjointed from the initial setup. While this narrative shift allows for further exploration of themes like power dynamics and female agency, it disrupts the momentum built in the first act. We’re introduced to a new world, with new characters and a different energy, which can be jarring. However, this also allows for a deeper exploration of Bella’s character. We see her grapple with the complexities of human relationships, betrayal, and the weight of the past.

Ultimately, “Poor Things” is a film that demands to be experienced. It’s a visually stunning and thought-provoking exploration of identity, societal constraints, and the complexities of human relationships. Emma Stone delivers a powerhouse performance as Bella, capturing her vulnerability and strength with equal measure. She embodies Bella’s childlike wonder with such conviction that it’s impossible not to be swept away by her journey.

While the film’s pacing and tonal shifts may not be for everyone, those willing to take the plunge will find a richly layered and unforgettable cinematic experience. “Poor Things” is a film that lingers long after the credits roll, prompting reflection on the very nature of humanity and the power of societal norms. It’s a film that will stay with you—a curious case that continues to unfold in your mind even after you leave the theatre.