Poor Things

Rather, it’s an attempt to wake us up, to clue us into the behaviors and violences we replicate over and over again, even when we think we aren’t. And on that front alone, Poor Things is a success.

The score is brilliant. It absolutely captures the kind of semi-steam punk, fantastical, mythological, Frankestinian... all that stuff. And yet at the heart of it, there is an emotional story...

Bella’s appetite for novelty is reflected in film-making that evokes a similar sense of wonder and discovery in the audience.

Though it flags towards the end, the film is marvellously entertaining. And ultimately, while it is weird, it is the sort of weird we can do.

Like The Favourite, his new film comes to feel like a costume drama for an age that thinks itself above costume dramas. And actually, deep down, for all the scalpels and self-pleasure, a rather standard dose of Hollywood feelgood.

It’s a bravura piece of physical theatre by Stone, totally committed, without a trace of vanity, progressing a little every time we see her, until finally she is fully self-possessed, lithe and articulate.

Lanthimos and McNamara throw in a hell of a lot in Poor Things. Thankfully, it’s a horny, gorgeous hell of a lot.

Trust Lanthimos to make a film where the cast prepped by going to mortician school. Yet for all the delightful derangement, there's a refreshing lack of resignation...

Poor Things is a very funny film, with acute social satire and an anti-romantic comedy premise rendered in gonzo, Gilliam-esque fashion. It’s also deeply cynical, though it justifies its own cynicism in its commitment to the bit.

Emma Stone is fearless as a creature searching for her humanity in this twisted retelling.