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.

I can honestly say that I appreciated Poor Things. I am less sure I can claim to have entirely enjoyed it.

Stone is fabulous as a woman (re)discovering her zest for life, and Mark Ruffalo is a great, wickedly charming villain.

If I had the choice of watching a final movie before giving up the ghost, it would have to be Poor Things. It ranks among my all-time personal favourites and is one of the wittiest and funniest films to hit cinema screens in years.

There are not a lot of times where both actor and audience are having fun with a performance. Emma Stone was having the time of her life with Bella Baxter.