Poor Things

In the soot‑stained streets of 19th‑century Glasgow, a city of soot‑gray factories and soot‑white parlors, the air hums with the clash of progress and tradition. The film drapes its story in a lush, slightly absurd gothic palette, where scientific curiosity flickers beside rigid social mores, and every hallway feels both intimate and oddly theatrical. The tone balances eerie wonder with sharp, wry humor, inviting the viewer to linger over the strange beauty of a world that is at once familiar and wildly reimagined.

Archibald McCandles is a young medical student whose fascination with the limits of science draws him into the orbit of the eccentric surgeon Godwin Baxter. Baxter’s reputation for unorthodox experiments is matched only by his magnetic charisma, and together they become caretakers of a singular enigma: Bella Baxter. Presented to the viewer as a striking, child‑like woman whose origins are shrouded in a whispered, almost mythic tale of resurrection, she embodies both the promise of new life and the unsettling possibilities of tampering with nature.

Bella moves through the polished salons and cramped tenements of Victorian society with a blend of curiosity and defiance that unsettles those around her. Her presence challenges the expectations placed on women of the era, hinting at a deeper yearning for autonomy and purpose. The film teases the idea that the stories we tell about ourselves may be as constructed as the experiments that birthed her, leaving a lingering question about who is narrating truth and who is merely performing it.

As the narrative unfolds, it becomes a meditation on memory, myth, and the ways personal histories are sculpted by desire and imagination. The audience is invited to drift between the glittering surface of high‑society intrigue and the shadowed undercurrents of scientific ambition, all while wondering which version of Bella’s story is the one that truly exists.

Last Updated: September 17, 2025 at 13:55