By Finnlay Victor Dall
Note: Highlight black bars to reveal spoilers
Are we predefined by the bodies we’re born into, or are we shaped by our experiences? Yorgos Lanthimos’ latest creation seems to answer this question in the most sci-fi way possible: what if we stick an infant’s brain into her mother’s still warm corpse.
Poor Things quickly evolves from a traditional black and white creature feature into an absurd coming of age story once its Frankenstein’s monster-inspired subject, Bella Baxter, played by the ever mesmerising Emma Stone, strings her first words together. Finding a father figure in her saviour, Godwin Baxter, Bella becomes a bubbly and excited tween, and soon after a sexually awakened and curious adolescent. Deciding to explore what’s beyond the safe restrictions of home, she runs away, at which point the audience receives a jolt to the senses as the world around her becomes drenched in colour and sound. This world is the film’s greatest asset. Great care has gone into every aspect of the production – lavish costumes, handcrafted sets, uncanny prosthetics and makeup – to create a nineteenth century Europe that is undeniably real but at the same time absurdly gothic. There hasn’t been a gothic themed spectacle on the big screen this bombastically stylised since Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula; something the film seems to take great pride in emulating.
You’ll find it leaking into the performances too. Mark Ruffalo butchers a British accent to great effect as Bella’s dastardly benefactor, Duncan Wedderburn. The act brings the same energy as Keanu Reeves rendition of Johnthan Harker, albeit with a tinge of sleazy darkness. It’s the perfect foil to the childish and optimistic Bella, and a great look into the insecure men who throw hissy fits when their ‘broken’ toys don’t do what they want them to. Meanwhile, Godwin, played by Willem Dafoe in his warmest performance in recent memory, forgoes becoming a resentful Dr. Frankenstein and becomes instead an overprotective father who, despite initial misgivings, is supportive of his daughter’s journey.
Bella’s inquisitive and youthful mind puts her at odds with most of Victorian society throughout her great odyssey. And ironically, it is through her discovery of sex that she finds the greatest autonomy. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Lanthimos and screenwriter Tony McNamara are both men and thought the best way to liberate a woman was through sex (and lots of it)?
Well, the Greek director is not new to criticising the farce of the social contract and the performances that come along with it. The Lobster, through its blunt dialog and stilted acting highlighted the absurdity of dating, married life and social isolation, while The Killing of a Sacred Deer illustrated the cracks in the familial structure by forcing a father to kill one of his loved ones. And it was clear from The Favourite that McNamara was keen to showcase that royalty still have the selfishness and cheek to squabble over the most minuscule issues even with a war raging so close to their shores. So, I think their ideas are coming less from a male gaze point of view and more a desire to expand on the themes of their previous works. Plus, just as much of the time in the latter half of the film is spent on reading philosophy, getting involved in political activities, and giving to the less fortunate.
In a Victorian context, Bella’s experience with her body and her joy in participating in bouts of “furious jumping” is frowned upon because she does it on her own terms. Wedderburn is more than happy to have constant sex with her when he is the best and only one she’s ever had, but when her curiosity inevitably leads her to sleep with other men, he suddenly finds the strength to shame her endlessly. Affected but undeterred by such attempts to contain her, Bella continues to forge her own path. Even when she does eventually turn to sex work in Paris to pay for a trip back home, she refuses to let her clients just ‘take her’, instead having them participate in games to get to know them better.
As she matures, Bella comes to realise that this is her world – and body – to explore and improve and change, and no man can change that. She has a strangely similar arc to Catherine from Jane Austen’s Northanger Abbey; A seventeen year old whose only experience of the world is the frightening one inside her gothic novels. But who, as she slowly matures and comes face to face with the real characters of Victorian England, gains a more balanced viewpoint of her surroundings – one which still contains some real but navigable dangers.
Poor Things is a lovingly crafted ode to the insightful and wondrous world of gothic literature. Every part of the production is stitched together in such a way as to create a delightful mosaic of life, love and womanhood. And while it may turn some away in disgust, the film is never afraid to get wild or strange – it is truly an electric time meant for the big screen.
Poor Things can be seen in cinemas now.
MELBOURNE UNIVERSITY FILM INQUIRER 