Ethan Chiang | The Observer “And I was so young when I behaved twenty-five / Yet now I’ve grown into a tall child”
— Mitski in “First Love / Late Spring”
If your social media has been oversaturated with bizarre nondescript trailers for “Poor Things,” I want you to know the vagueness is intentional. I hope you go into the movie blind and preferably alone, as I did; otherwise, you are in for an uncomfortable viewing experience. But if you are on the fence about seeing one of the most daring films of 2023, please read on.
[Editor’s Note: This review contains spoilers.]
“Poor Things” is a bold spin on an old Frankenstein-esque concept. In a version of Victorian London enlightened by the (still-existing) Library of Alexandria, surgeon Dr. Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe) restores the life of a pregnant woman who dies by suicide. Except, he replaces the brain of the grown woman with the brain of the baby. Meet our main character, Bella Baxter (Emma Stone), a toddler trapped in a woman’s body.
The film and its wild premise have generally been received well-received by critics and audiences with a 93% on Rotten Tomatoes and a 4.3/5 star rating on Letterboxd. Many viewers, however, are polarized. Most negative reviews argue Bella’s infantilization, especially in the context of a film largely concerned with Bella’s exploration of sex and sexuality, creates obvious discomfort and cuts the film’s feminist posturing off by its knees.
In many ways, these critics are right. The film falls into the second-wave feminist camp that supposes sexual liberation is the key to equality. However, sexual liberation, in the context of “Poor Things,” comes without any sexual education. Bella’s naivete means that she enters into adult relationships (and, as she mentally matures, enters into sex work) without any sense of the very real stakes women face in adult relationships: physical and sexual violence, economic and emotional abuse and health risks such as STIs or unplanned pregnancy. In fact, prostitution becomes the key to Bella’s economic liberation from her controlling lover Declan Wedderburn (Mark Ruffalo), and enables her to pay for college — a wildly idealistic look at sex work that lacks nod to potential consequences.
But for all of the film’s fascination with sex and anatomy, Bella is not necessarily objectified or oversexualized. Sex is perceived the way Bella sees it: matter-of-factly. She could easily fall into the “born sexy yesterday” trope where “the mind of a naive, yet highly skilled, girl is written into the body of a mature sexualized woman.” Yet, Declan Wedderburn, whose infatuation with Bella stems from her childlike nature, is shown to be a ridiculous and even more childish character himself.
Even though “Poor Things” deftly pokes at the “born sexy yesterday” trope itself and critiques the over-sexualization and infantilization of women, the film makes a false equivalence between women’s sexual liberation and women’s empowerment. For whatever strides the film makes, the film itself — written, produced and directed by a majority male crew — was never intended to be lauded as a feminist masterpiece.
“Poor Things,” at its heart, is a bildungsroman about a girl coming to grips with the world around her — and not just in terms of the patriarchy. Yes, Bella navigates a world of men who are increasingly hostile towards her as she becomes more autonomous. And yes, even the “God” she sees as so benevolent seeks to control her.
But Bella also navigates a world full of suffering, injustice and economic inequality. She exists in a rich world outside of sex — one full of beauty, intellectual pursuits and worldly conversation. Alone, Bella weeps over the plight of those less fortunate than her. Alone, Bella finds herself entranced by the soothing sounds of the Portuguese guitar, entranced by books and enthralled by her medical school lectures. These are the scenes where I find myself liking Bella most. For all of her misguidedness, I deeply admire her innate curiosity, awe of the world and desire to help others.
We should stop asking ourselves whether or not “Poor Things” is a feminist film. Instead, we should focus on the film’s more interesting questions: In what ways do adulthood and its social conventions stifle our innate desires? As millennials and Gen-Z drag their feet toward adulthood in extended adolescence, are we actually finding ways to honor the childlike curiosity and wonder within all of us? Or are we finding excuses to justify the pervasive sense that we have grown into “tall children?”
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