Poor Things: Sex, Sex And More Sex
Photo by freestocks on Unsplash
By Erin Deborah Waks
I’ve always been a fan of Mary Shelley and, of course, Frankenstein, so when I read the synopsis of Yorgos Lathimos’s newest film, I knew I had to see it. I was promised a feminist, or feminine, take on the literary classic and, sure, it followed through - to some extent. But to call Poor Things a feminist take on Frankenstein is to reduce it to the mere sum of its parts. It’s far more than that, a daring cinematic triumph that is as bizarre as it is entertaining.
Emma Stone’s Bella Baxter is perfectly jarring as a scientific experiment consisting of a baby’s brain placed into an adult woman’s body. She exquisitely captures what would hypothetically come of such an endeavor, uneasy on her feet and unable to communicate in quite the grown-up manner that matches her appearance. Stone’s performance is a relief from her romcom heroines, and seeing her play more complicated, developed roles is a delight.
Yet what was, for me, best about the film, was the complex - and often unsettling - reflections the protagonist’s character makes on sexuality. In making explicit private, intimate sexual encounters, Stone flips sexual norms on their head, questioning why the concept of intimacy is always kept so taboo. When she refers to sex as ‘furious jumping’, or masturbates openly at the dinner table, she is reversing a very British - and very embarrassed - sexuality.
Later, she daringly says ‘This is Martha. She is my new friend who has not been fucked in twenty years. Is that not astonishment? I hope you use your hand between your legs to keep yourself happy!’ Instead of increasing shame around her sexual narrative, she’s suggesting an innocent, childish fascination with her own body. It’s refreshing, if a little embarrassing, to watch. One can only ponder if she’s right.
And then there’s the supporting cast, stellar in every way. Most notable is Mark Ruffalo’s gloriously arrogant and stereotypically English Duncan Wedderburn, who whisks Bella off to teach her about the world (and, of course, sex). Praise must also go to Willem Dafoe’s Dr Godwin Baxter, whose eccentricity brings life to the overly serious Dr Frankenstein caricature.
The film’s style and colour palette provide sufficient depth and drama to what could otherwise be a far too obvious attempt at grasping a set design or production Oscar, with the relative peculiarity of the filming mirroring the obvious outlandishness of the plot. And yet, it works. It’s the first feature-film to be partially shot on Kodak's 35mm Ektachrome colour reversal motion picture film stock, and somewhere amid the over-the-top camerawork and elaborate costume and set design, it has a real consistency and explicit style that you’ll either love or hate.
It might not be the best film I’ve ever seen, but it’s certainly the weirdest. And that’s got to count for something.
