Poor Things

I can't remember where, but there was some writing course or how-to-write book I remember seeing that advised aspiring wordsmiths to never use an adverb to modify the word "unique". The idea behind it was that, by definition, "unique" means "one of a kind"; something that is unique is already, by default, the only one. It's not like "really hungry" or "very hard", where the adjective amplifies the intensity of the adjective. "Very one of a kind" makes no sense, hence the advice. I feel like that advice can be thrown out the window with Poor Things. It cannot be stressed enough how singular this movie is, in no small part to the many, many ways in which it is unique. The score, the costume, the acting, the screenplay, the themes, everything about it feels alien, and yet engrossing. The story concerns Bella, a woman who was brought back to life Frankenstein-style by a doctor in the late Victorian era. The difference here is that Bella was formerly Victoria prior to her death, and Victoria was with child. The doctor, who performs some bizarre experiments with living beings (the duck-dog, with the head of a duck and the body of a dog, and the inverted dog-duck, are but two examples), decides to replace Victoria's brain with that of her own unborn child, making her her own mother and daughter. The movie follows Bella as she goes from a toddler in a woman's body to a woman, discovering the world and herself. That is an incredibly reductive plot summary, though. There is so much more to this story that cannot be encapsulated here, or relayed properly in words. There is how her creator has a student track her behavior for scientific purposes, who then falls in love with Bella, and the creator suggests they marry, all while Bella is still more or less a toddler mentally. There is Bella's sexual awakening, her awakening to the world at large and both the positive and negative aspects of it, how she approaches relationships, and so much more, all while set in a fantastical, steampunk-like late 19th century London. On a visual basis alone, Poor Things is a sight to behold. The set design and costuming are unlike anything I've seen before (a recurring theme), and to describe them is to not do them justice. Capturing the visuals is a directing style that is just as unique as anything else. Director Yorgos Lanthimos seemed bound and determined to not film this in any conventional way. The camera's placement and movement is calculated to keep the viewer unbalanced. He uses a slowed down version of 70's style crash zooms. He frequently uses fish-eye lens, and sometimes does panning shots while using them. He uses wide-angle shots. It is an all-out assault on the senses, and I can see some people being annoyed or even put right out of the movie because of it. As much as I loathe the fish-eye look (I did not need late 90's hip-hop music video cinematography back in my life), I found myself warming to it here, largely because this is a movie hell bent on being the weirdest damned thing you'll see all year. If this was shot like any other movie, it would rob the movie of so much impact. Poor Things also deals with some heavy, and definitely divisive, themes. First, and possibly the most glossed over, is the doctor's experiments. Setting aside the impossibility of brain transplants and Frankensteinian revival, the concept behind it is what counts. The doctor, whose first name is Godwin and whom Bella refers to as God (appropriate for how he plays God with his experiments), saves the life of a child, but in a way that may or may not be an affront to nature. How far should medicine go? Is saving a life buy condemning it to unnatural conditions appropriate? Is there a Rubicon that science should not cross? Poor Things does not answer that, nor any of the themes. The other major theme revolves around Bella. Godwin Baxter views her as a science project that must be preserved (read: imprisoned) in order for the experiment to be pure. Godwin's assistant, Max, is enchanted with her and wants to protect her. Mark Ruffalo's character, a hedonistic and ill-tempered cad named Duncan, lusts for Bella. She is viewed not as a person, but as a thing to be possessed and controlled in one way or another. Nobody stops to consider what Bella wants, that, despite her origins, she is a living being and has as much free will as anybody else. When she leaves with Duncan, she is immature, obsessed with finding "happiness" (read: orgasms) and experiencing all the indulgences the world has to offer. When that wears thin, she and Duncan split apart. She is forced to survive on her own and starts to see darker aspects of the world. She becomes more well-rounded, so that when she comes home, she can confront her creator and her complicated feelings about her origins, as well as the possibility of a more practical and comforting relationship with Max, on her terms. There is a strong argument to be regarding Bella's journey that it is strongly feminist and strongly misogynist, and I think anyone saying it is one or the other misses the point entirely. Any tale that is one thing and one thing alone is an incomplete tale. There has to be elements of both. Yes, it is gross that Godwin and Max conspire to marry off Bella when she has the mind of a child; but then, during a scene where Bella becomes out of control and has to be sedated, she is taken to her room and her dress falls open. Max respectfully covers her breast, looking almost ashamed at having seen it in the first place. When Bella becomes a prostitute, she sees a much more broadened scope of sexual appetites, some that she finds repulsive, and she sees how these men view women. But she also decides to set ground rules for engaging with her clients, making them tell stories about themselves and getting to know them before conducting their physical transaction. Like like, Poor Things is about nuance. There are no absolutes here. Yes, there are unpleasant moments, but those exist so that Bella can learn from them and grow. That's how we real life human beings grow. For all its fantastical trappings, Poor Things presents a more true-to-life experience than most movies. So, now it's time to talk about the elephant in the room of this movie: the sex and nudity. I don't like to mention stuff like this in reviews, because I'm a grown man, and sex and nudity in movies is usually only worth mentioned to teenage boys. I don't watch movies to see boobs, and I sure as hell don't need to talk about it because it rarely is of great import to the movie, but Poor Things is different. Poor Things is one of those movies where the sex and nudity are integral elements, and as much was made of Emma Stone's frequent nudity, I would be remiss if I didn't discuss it. In that regard, Poor Things reminds me a lot of Under The Skin. Like Poor Things, a lot was made of Under The Skin and its star, Scarlett Johansson, being frequently nude in it. What's interesting about both movies isn't that a beautiful actress is getting naked, or even the reasons why, but how it is presented. Sex and sexuality are very key to both movies; in Skin, Johansson is an alien inhabiting a woman's body and uses sex and attractiveness as bait to lure in victims. In Under The Skin, this is achieved by having Johansson literally be not human and not understanding what attraction is (besides a lure on a hook). When she stands fully naked in front of a long mirror and checks out her body, she isn't admiring herself; she's exploring the body as an anatomy lesson, seeing how skin folds when joints bend, how breasts hang. It is as clinical as an autopsy. In Poor Things, Bella is exploring herself and her body and what it means to experience pleasure. But while both have sex and sexuality as key ingredients to the plot, neither movie is actually SEXY. It's not that the actresses themselves aren't attractive, but the atmosphere in which the sexuality is explored. In Poor Things, Bella indulges in sex with an almost addiction-level of desire, but there is no love and no passion. It is a means to an end, like mutual masturbation. By the time she becomes a prostitute, it has now become a business transaction. She might find some occasional pleasure, but that's an unintended consequence. She feels no shame in what she is doing; it is a means to an end. Poor Things never sets up Emma Stone's nudity like, say, Shannon Elizabeth's in American Pie, where she is the object of the viewer's lust. It is as removed from the concept of sexiness as one can get, and it is, in a weird way, a commendable trick. Speaking of commendable, the acting. Emma Stone earned that Oscar, yo. I don't know about the other movies, but she knocked it out of the park here. So does Mark Ruffalo as a charming and yet utterly loathsome man, Ramy Youssef's sweet and befuddled Max, and Willem Dafoe's unnerving Godwin. Everyone is wholeheartedly committed to these offbeat characters and this unusual world. But this movie is definitely Stone's. The growth of Bella throughout the movie, from her jagged and uncoordinated movements and monosyllabic vocabulary early on, to her toddler-like temper tantrums, to her total lack of shame or interest in public image, it is a singular performance. I can't recommend this movie to everybody. It is decidedly, aggressively unusual. At no point does this movie meet you where you live, or even halfway. It is what it is, and you either come to it an accept it, or you walk. Its nearly 2 1/2 hour run time might also be a hurdle to some, and with how much this movie throws at you, you will feel the length. But if you're open-minded and appreciate it when a director is willing and eager to push the boundaries of how a story can be told, you should find something to like about Poor Things.