Love it or hate it, "Poor Things'' is guaranteed to get people talking. With eleven Academy Award nominations, Yorgos Lanthimos's adaptation of Alasdair Gray’s 1992 novel, which is a reimagination of Frankenstein, contends with the ideas of agency, sexuality, and social conformity. These ideas are explored through the unconventional coming of age of the heroine Bella Baxter, played by Emma Stone, and bolstered by a stellar ensemble cast. Although there are elements that suggest the story takes place in 19th century London, the time period can’t really be pinned down, as futuristic elements like vehicles suspended on wires in the story suggest otherwise, adding to the speculative fiction of the story. Through its portrayal of unabashed and rebellious Bella, who embarks on a journey to discover herself and the world, does the story of this sassy heroine offer us a feminist fable? Keep reading this film review to know my thoughts!
Note: This review contains spoilers.
Trigger warning: suicide, ableism, violence against women, genital mutilation
Curiosity personified
As Ramy Youssef who plays her fiance, Max McCandles, describes in his interviews, “Bella is curiosity personified.” In the film, his character’s first response on seeing her is, “What a pretty retard,” as she grunts and stumbles like a toddler. Her creator, Godwin or “God”, is a rogue scientist who turns her into a curious being to be observed, rationalising his actions for scientific purposes. But we move on to a more fascinating (and less exploitative) curiosity, which is Bella’s own, as she rapidly begins to develop. From “discovering happy when she want”, to “furious jumping” with her lover on a cruise ship, to questioning mononormative codes in dating, we see Bella enthusiastically dive into the joy and wonder that pleasure brings her. She also reads and engages in philosophical discussions with other characters, learning more about the world. While there are debates on whether the sex scenes are gratuitous, the shamelessness with which Bella embraces her desires feels reassuring. As viewers living in a time where gifting sex toys is common practice, one can’t help but ponder about how much more excitement it would bring to Bella’s playtime sessions if she could access them.
Humour to challenge social conventions
Along with its stunning surrealist visuals and dramatic musical score, Poor Things points out issues in ordinary social conventions through humour. To me, this was most apparent with Duncan, as he tries to reduce Bella to his personal playdoll, but she only grows to become more and more independent. In one scene, he proclaims that she’s been getting hot and heavy with “the very best” and that he feels bad that “no man could bring her the raptures” that he has. But he is quickly humbled when Bella asks to go another round and Duncan has to decline, saying “men cannot keep coming back for more.” Bella asks if this is “a physiological problem, a weakness in men” and Duncan can’t help but agree. In another scene, she asks him why he won’t do the “tongue play” on her just because another man has, to which Ducan dejectedly bangs his head on a table and weeps–which is especially ironic considering he warned her not to fall in love with him because he is all about adventure. Humour is also used to highlight other norms of “polite society,” like repressing the urge for solo play. Bella delightfully gets herself off at the dinner table and then offers to fix the maid’s “sour face” by offering to pleasure her too, but she is reprimanded for being unrestrained. These ridiculous situations make one contend with their own ideas of shame and acceptable behaviour.
Disabled and queer interpretations
Despite having two main characters who are disabled–Bella, and Godwin, who was himself experimented on by his own surgeon father–most conversations on the film don’t discuss it from a disability perspective. Several people who identify as autistic point out how the communication barriers that Bella faces, her responses to sensory stimuli, high sensitivity, and subsequently learning how to “mask” or fit in, mirror their own experiences. Growing through various developmental stages in the body of an adult, she also represents the challenges that people with intellectual disabilities face. At the brothel, her madame even refers to her as maybe having “a mental illness”, and her suicide attempt at the beginning of the film could be attributed to the same. Her exploitation by various men in her life is also rooted in ableism and exploitation of disabled people, particularly women.
The film does have a queer moment too–Bella shares a tender sapphic relationship with her co-worker from the brothel–however, this story arc isn’t substantially explored. As a woman who is born again and defies conventional norms of femininity and sexuality, Bella can also be interpreted through a trans lens.
Relationships with men in her life
The men in her life are mostly preoccupied with trying to control Bella or dictating her on how to live life according to their worldviews. Godwin tries to rationalise his experiment on her as a way of having saved her, despite having committed a brutal invasion of her and her unborn child’s body. His cold and detached view of the world is something he tries to instil in her. Duncan swoops her away on a transatlantic cruise promising adventure, but he cannot stand it when she starts reading and thinking for herself, tossing her books into the ocean. The only man who doesn’t take explicit advantage of her is Max McCandles, who loves her and seems to respect her as an independent woman, veering away from his initial fascination with her as a subject of study.
Bella is constantly fighting the control of men in her life. Even as a sex worker, she doesn’t feel defeated and tries to speak up. And although morbidly fascinating, it’s disappointing that Bella has to fight her way to power, by modelling aggressive behaviour she has been previously subjected to. She renders her fiance unconscious by smothering him with chloroform, the same way Godwin used to when he couldn’t control her. And she attacks her cruel and torturous husband, who had arranged for a genital mutilation surgery for her, believing that this would “cure” her. Female genital mutilation is a form of violence that women have been victim to for centuries. So it is powerful to see Bella attack her husband and punish him, and perhaps he deserved his fate. But it also brings into question whether the only way to reclaim agency in a patriarchal world is by becoming like those in power: ruthless. This is where the fantasy of the film is to be appreciated. Although gory, it reflects the rage that a lot of women and survivors of gender and disabled violence feel.
The overpowering male gaze
It has to be accounted for that the film and the book are both directed and written by men, which shapes the imagination of Bella. Why is a woman who gets to experience breaking away from social conventions only one who has her brain stolen from her, when many women do it everyday? For a film that the director himself does not want to assign labels like “feminist”, why is it that Godwin’s next target after Bella is again a woman? It is also a bit annoying that the film devoted multiple moments on Godwin’s impotency and digestive issues, but couldn’t spare one to talk about if Bella needed to use contraception, and if she menstruated. Bella rather conveniently does not have any body hair, except for a neatly trimmed landing strip of pubic hair. These aspects of the film seem to underline how it still tends to a man’s ideals of a heroine.
Overall, Poor Things is a complex film that can be interpreted through a feminist lens through its protagonist Bella's journey. But it falls short of delivering a fully realised feminist narrative. I personally found it more rewarding to read the commentary on the film by women, disabled and trans people, which highlights for me the importance of consuming content by creators who share these identities. While Bella's defiance is undeniable, the film ultimately leaves us with an unsettling reminder of the power dynamics at play in storytelling.
About the author
Anna (she/they) is queer and neurodivergent. They have always been curious about pleasure and conversations around it (and wanted to found a condom company when they were 12, because of Global North misinformed panic that the climate crisis is a consequence of overpopulation–they’ve learnt better now). They wish to contribute to a world where everyone can enjoy access to pleasure, safely and shamelessly.
