“Her brain was put in by God. Then removed by man. Then returned by another man.”
With this bizarre, almost mythic sequence of events, Yorgos Lanthimos births Poor Things — a film that is Frankenstein, fairy tale, fable, feminist critique, and absurdist comedy all at once. It is grotesque and gorgeous, perverse and profound. It’s the kind of film you don’t watch — you submit to it.
And once it’s over, you emerge reborn.
INTRODUCTION: The Resurrection of Bella Baxter
Based on the novel by Alasdair Gray, Poor Things tells the story of Bella Baxter, a young Victorian woman brought back to life by an eccentric scientist who replaces her brain with that of her unborn child.
Yes, you read that right.
From this unsettling premise blossoms a surreal journey of reclamation. Bella, played with once-in-a-generation brilliance by Emma Stone, evolves from an infantile curiosity into a fully awakened woman — intellectually, sexually, and morally.
This is Frankenstein by way of Virginia Woolf. It’s Pinocchio if Pinocchio were a resurrected woman and Geppetto was a madman with a God complex.
YORGOS LANTHIMOS: The Architect of the Absurd Divine
Known for his deadpan dystopias (The Lobster, The Favourite), Lanthimos here ascends into new creative territory. Poor Things is his most emotionally rich, visually decadent, and thematically liberated work yet.
This is a carnival of contradictions: grotesque yet delicate, cynical yet hopeful, erotic yet philosophical. Lanthimos directs like a mad puppeteer with a scalpel—slicing through Victorian repression and patriarchal logic, only to stitch together something free.
The result? A radical, comic, often horrifying odyssey into the mind of a woman who was never taught how to be a woman. So she invents it.
BELLA BAXTER: Emma Stone’s Earthquake of a Performance
Emma Stone doesn’t just play Bella — she becomes Bella in every molecular sense. It is an astonishing, fearless, shape-shifting performance. She begins the film like a newborn animal, speaking in broken syllables, moving like a puppet on strings.
But by the end? She is walking through Paris, discussing Nietzsche, sleeping with anyone she wants, rejecting marriage, laughing at shame, and confronting death with the serene wisdom of a god.
This is the boldest performance by an American actress in the last decade. It is not “brave.” It is revolutionary.
THE SUPPORTING MADNESS
- Willem Dafoe, as the grotesquely disfigured scientist Godwin Baxter, walks the line between Victor Frankenstein and a nurturing father figure. He’s monstrous in body, but his intentions are strangely pure. He wants to build a better woman, and he does — only to realize she is better without him.
- Mark Ruffalo delivers a hilarious, pathetic performance as Duncan Wedderburn, a lawyer turned sex-tour guide who thinks he’s worldly — until Bella intellectually undresses him. He is society’s male ego: pompous, lost, and doomed to irrelevance.
Everyone else exists in Bella’s orbit — because this film isn’t about them. It’s her narrative, told on her terms, with her gaze.
VISUALS: A CLOCKWORK DREAMSCAPE
The visual world of Poor Things is unlike anything in modern cinema. Shot by Robbie Ryan, the cinematography is a Victorian acid trip. Lanthimos uses fisheye lenses, diorama-like backdrops, and psychedelic palettes to evoke a world where reality feels warped — just like Bella’s perception.
The cities look painted. The rooms look circular. The ships look like toys. Everything seems off, like a dream your subconscious painted in oils.
And as Bella’s mind matures, the color palette shifts: from sterile whites and grays to riotous yellows, purples, and burning reds. It’s a visual evolution of consciousness.
MUSIC: Jerskin Fendrix’s Haunting Debut
The score, composed by newcomer Jerskin Fendrix, sounds like it was performed by a machine built to feel emotions. It’s a symphony of whispers, rattles, hums, and winds — perfectly capturing Bella’s disorientation and awakening.
There are no familiar melodies here. Just sensations. It doesn’t score emotions — it creates them.
THEMES: LIBERATION, CONSENT, AND SELF-MADE WOMANHOOD
What if you could be reborn with no shame? No gendered programming? No social conditioning? What would you become?
Bella answers this by refusing every role society offers her. Wife. Mother. Muse. Whore. She samples them — then discards them.
She is not an object. She is not even a subject. She is a universe building itself from scratch.
The film’s most radical act is not its sex scenes (though there are many), but its moral realignment. In Poor Things, the only “sin” is obedience. The only “monster” is the man who insists he knows what’s best for her.
NOT FOR THE FAINT OR FRAGILE
Let this be clear: Poor Things is not for everyone.
It features:
- Graphic nudity and sexual exploration
- Body horror and surreal violence
- Repeated philosophical and moral provocations
But beneath the grotesque lies sacred beauty. And beneath the absurdity lies a coherent, brilliant critique of how we teach women to live in cages and call it love.
A DARK FAIRY TALE FOR A NEW CENTURY
At its core, Poor Things is the reverse of a fairy tale. Bella doesn’t find her prince. She finds her mind. Her desire. Her boundaries. Her joy.
She dies a man’s creation, but lives as her own invention.
If Mary Shelley wrote Frankenstein to explore male hubris, Lanthimos and Stone have reimagined it to explore female autonomy. And in doing so, they’ve made something unrepeatable.
AWARDS, LEGACY, AND CULT STATUS
Poor Things won the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival. It earned Best Actress nominations (and wins) for Stone across major circuits. It was nominated for Best Picture and Best Director at the 96th Academy Awards.
But beyond awards, this is a film destined to become a cult classic, a feminist manifesto, and a late-night favorite for film lovers, philosophy students, and rebellious minds.
Final Rating: 10/10
Poor Things is not just cinema. It is alchemy. It turns the grotesque into beauty. The absurd into art. The female body into a battlefield for liberation.
Yorgos Lanthimos has never made anything more alive.
Emma Stone has never been more fearless.
And we, the audience, may never see womanhood portrayed this boldly again.
