Godwin Baxter, who simply calls himself “God”, has only scientific interest in the world around him. He is more interested in studying the human body or hybridizing feather-ungulates for fun, rather than conventional life. For many years, he was a test subject in his father's brutal experiments on organ removal, and now he shows no reverence for anything but the results of his research.
The only thing that evokes semblance in “God” is the incredibly beautiful and simply crazy Bella living in his mansion. The doctor treats her like an adopted daughter, although she is neither a daughter nor, technically, a girl. After all, the skull of the lady Baxter caught from the Thames flashes the brain of her unborn daughter.
Although it is also difficult to call Frankenstein a full-fledged child of this monster: a beautiful woman living in captivity babbles something in a childish language, and instead of playing the usual games, tests the strength of dishes, animals and corpses in her foster father's office. She is much more familiar with the society of dead creatures than the company of the living.
In “Poor Things” Yorgos Lanthimos weaves two parallel worlds. In one, Victorian England's sophisticated intellectuals thrive, subtly drinking “fife-o-clock” to debates about imperialism and humanity's existential mysteries. Upon completion, unknown thinkers, shrouded in a sense of their own superiority and endless fatigue from the unbearable nature of life, go home.
Simple things rule the other world: basest unbridled behavior, dirty brothels, and rough language that devalues the ostentatious bombast of the upper world. Everyday life covers everything around them, and sometimes heroes, forgetting all decency, spit out curses familiar to the 21st century to remind themselves and others how damn sad it is to be polite.
Secular stiffness and slum filth do not compete at all; on the contrary, they complement each other and support each other in the most unexpected moments. Either a great philosopher throws a swear word in his hearts, or a tattooed courtesan recites a fiery speech about inequality. And the further you go, the thinner is the line between a society of decency and total nihilism.
“God” protects the baby in every possible way, but the line between excessive care for a difficult child and interest in experimentation is barely noticeable. Except for her harsh housewife, a mad scientist and his clumsy assistant, the girl doesn't know anyone, and London's tasty secrets are out of her reach. Therefore, having accidentally met the first rogue she comes across, Bella flees abroad with him.
At this moment, the two worlds collide. A simpleton who has not learned the rules of decency invades the world of prim adults who are stuck in all sorts of formalities. Bella's first discovery is her own sexuality, which brings bliss, accessible and primitive to the grey world. For some reason, only those around her wrinkle their noses when she cheerfully talks about the joys of masturbation.
The world imposes strict rules on the poor and unhappy heroine, which make her puzzled. So, having barely understood society's unmet expectations for a young girl, she questions the conventions of human relationships. For some reason, ordinary people are dragging out a sad burden instead of becoming happier.
Gradually, Bella reveals not only the local problems of others, but also deep political and social imperfections. No one can explain to an ignorant child why a rich man does not give all his money to the poor, who do not even try to win back the right to a decent life. Heroin thinks that a person, in a broad sense, does not strive for his own happiness or for helping others.
Taking the point of view of an objective viewer like Bella, Yorgos Lanthimos puts modern society, which is dressed in nineteenth-century robes only for fun, on public display. A close look reveals parts of this nasty organism, which not only looks repulsive, but also the work of its individual mechanisms defies logical explanation.
In a similar way, the director reflected on the modern world back in “The Lobster”, which is richly decorated with fantastic elements. But this time he's not even trying to dress what's going on in believable outfits. Instead of a microscope, he holds a kaleidoscope full of bright colors and crazy patterns.
As the story turns from Frankenstein's Monster to “Lolita” or “Martin Eden”, a visual feast like Terry Gilliam calls for narcotic visions amid harsh steampunk. Along with the heroine's journey, the visual language of the painting itself also develops: over time, color, sound and awkward special effects penetrate the silent black and white film.
The main character of “Poor Things” goes from a foolish child to a fighter for social justice, when two opposing worlds collide around her. But the more aware Bella becomes, the more clearly Yorgos Lanthimos weaves her vulgar stupidity into the prim judgment of adults, so it's simply impossible to distinguish one from the other by the end.
