‘Poor Things’ review: Emma Stone’s oddball sex comedy will tickle your fancy

A feminist Frankenstein that bleeds into Victorian fantasia, Poor Things is a mind-blower of a movie. Visually resplendent, cheekily written, impeccably crafted, it’s the latest stroke of genius from Yorgos Lanthimos, the Greek-born director of The Killing Of A Sacred Deer, The Lobster and, most recently, 2018’s award-winning The Favourite.

The latter, a bawdy Queen Anne-era period drama, shares some DNA with Poor Things, such as The Favourite’s Australian screenwriter Tony McNamara once again bringing his wit and wizardry to the screenplay. Then there’s Irish cinematographer Robbie Ryan conjuring up magic with the camera and actress Emma Stone putting in one of the most idiosyncratic performances of her career.

Based on the 1992 Victorian-era novel of the same name by Alasdair Gray, Stone plays Bella, a childlike figure in a woman’s body. She’s the charge of Dr. Godwin Baxter (Willem Dafoe), the scar-faced, Hibernian-accented scientist – or ‘God’ for short. A suicide victim, rescued and revived by Baxter, Bella’s miraculous rebirth has left her re-learning language, etiquette and more.

Initially confined to Baxter’s lab, Bella rapidly accrues new words and, when she puts her hand between her legs, discovers that she has a pleasure portal that gives her boundless joy. Observed by Baxter’s soon-to-be-lovelorn student Max (Ramy Youssef), she also comes to figure out that men are very different creatures to her own sex.

Mark Ruffalo’s moustache-twiddling, rakish lawyer Duncan Wedderburn is a case in point. Before long, he whisks Bella off on a European jaunt, beginning in Lisbon – although her real education seems to be between the sheets where she indulges in what she euphemistically calls “furious jumping”, one of the many delicious McNamara turns-of-phrase that serves up a chuckle.

Running at 141 minutes, Poor Things can feel over-extended at times, with Bella’s jaunt through Lisbon, Paris and Alexandria unnecessarily long. But it’s almost churlish to criticise this indulgence too harshly, given the sheer invention on show, from Ryan’s distinct use of warped fish-eye lenses to the reference-grabbing artistry of production designers Shona Heath and James Price.

Lanthimos seems determined here to throw everything at the wall and see what sticks (most of it does), even risking alienating the audience in the early scenes with experimental musician Jerskin Fendrix’s abrasive score, which seems designed to get under your skin and annoy. It is, of course, all part of the masterplan.

Right at the centre of this is Emma Stone, already the winner of a Golden Globe for her work and in the running to add a second Oscar to her win for 2016’s La La Land. A physically dexterous, linguistically astute turn, it’s a high-wire act that she pulls off with such panache, you’d think she was born like Bella.

With a cunning use of old-school techniques (like matte paintings) and digital trickery, Poor Things is also ravishing to look at. While its oddball nature won’t be to all tastes, the championing of female guile over insufferable male idiocy will surely leave many with a big smile on their faces.

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