Poor Things: A White-Feminist Masterpiece?

Spoilers ahead. Read with caution.

Before you might have any knee-jerk reactions, I want to provide some general thoughts. Poor Things, directed by Yorgos Lanthimos, and written by Tony McNamara, starring an all-star cast including the wonderful Emma Stone, a hilarious Mark Ruffalo, and an excellent Ramy Youssef, among others, is a good film. Tracking a female Frankenstein monster’s journey from naivete to controller of her fate is a worthwhile venture. The set design, the music, and the cinematography are firing on all cylinders and for them alone, one should watch this movie.

But why can’t I shake the feeling that this film celebrates White feminism at the expense of people of color?

Poor Things is being lauded as a feminist masterpiece. The conversations and writing of the film that center sex, sexuality, and agency, are worth checking out. But as a person of color, I couldn’t help but note that while we are witnesses to the rise of Bella, we do so at the expense of characters, and people, of color.

When Bella Baxter is kidnapped and taken aboard a ship that will reach Athens, she befriends Harry Astley, one of the few Black characters in the film. Harry is a self-described cynic who, upon seeing the naivete of a rich, White woman, decides to “teach” her about the reality of the world. How does he teach her about the cruelty of man? By bringing her to Africa (Alexandria). It’s a questionable choice of setting. If one wants to witness the cruelty of man, all one has to do is go to a Western country and watch how they handle immigrant populations. That is true cruelty. Prisons are cruel. As is war. But in the sole lesson of the film, he takes her to Africa.

So what do we witness in Africa? An open-air prison of sorts that the upper class ignores completely. In 2023, that feels pointed. Western countries are openly ignoring abject poverty, war, and famine. But the lesson goes deeper. Bella yearns to do something to help. But it is Harry, the Black man, who tells her that she shouldn't. That if she were to go down and help the naked men and women (and dying children) these people would attack them, rob them, and be justified in doing so.

Wow. If I didn’t know any better, it feels like a White man wrote this.

What do we make of this? Let’s be generous and suggest that perhaps Yorgos Lanthimos and Tony McNamara were attempting to elicit something deeper. Perhaps they were making fun of those good-natured White women who take up causes superficially. In the next scene, Bella dashes to donate as much money as possible, hoping that that will somehow make her feel better. Think of all the social media causes that seem to disappear after two weeks. It makes sense, given that Bella still has much to learn, she is a character who is constantly evolving.

But to what end?

I’d argue that Bella Baxter will become a bright icon of feminism. But it would be a disservice not to accurately describe her as an icon of White feminism.

Let’s describe White feminism. To borrow from Shahed Ezaydi’s article “What is White Feminism and how does it harm women of color?” she states that:

“White or liberal feminism refers to a type of feminism that focuses exclusively on white middle class women and prioritises issues that primarily affect them. It’s also often referred to as “girlboss feminism” as the focus tends to be on equality and empowerment gained through capitalist means, for example, calling for an increase in the number of female CEOs and the growing “hustle culture” trend. It’s a feminism that prioritises achieving equality for white women, insisting that their equality will open up doors for all other women.”

I would argue that audiences who will praise Bella Baxter for her feminist qualities will downplay the second part — that the movie insists that Bella’s liberation somehow opens up doors for all other women.

In Paris, we see one of the few moments of genuine connection between Bella and Toinette, a Black prostitute who is a self-described Socialist. Bella and Toinette are affectionate towards one another, but the affection goes one way. We witness Toinette pleasure Bella, but we never witness Bella pleasure Toinette. That is purposeful. In a film that yearns to liberate Bella from the one-sided nature of pleasure that is sex with men, she continues to perpetuate their mistakes. It’s telling that Bella receives knowledge and pleasure from Black and Brown bodies, but does little to reciprocate.

Toinette brings Bella to Socialist meetings in Paris, but it seems little has permeated through to Bella’s psyche. The film's last act is questionable in what it chooses to prioritize. In a movie about evolution and bucking societal conventions, it was interesting to see how Bella’s actions started to impact the men and women around her. I was intrigued to discover how society would react to a woman who announces, many times, better ways of living. Instead, the third act prioritizes her pleasure as the true source of liberation. When Alfie Blessington (a great Christopher Abbott), threatens a clitoridectomy, it is seen as the ultimate affront to what defines Bella — her pleasure and growth as a sexual, female figure. The thoughts of Alexandria, of the truly vile systemic issues, dissipate quickly. It is telling that the climax of the story disregards many of the societal issues that impact not just women, but people of color, and instead insists that the White woman’s sexual liberation was the biggest hurdle.

Let’s break down what that looks like in the final moments.

We see an empowered Bella, now with the means and soon the social status to do anything that she wants…and she chooses to become a doctor. Mind you, any time we have seen doctors in this film they only perform on White bodies. They only work with White peers. Max McCandles (please hire Ramy Youssef in more things) is seen as an exception, the lone person of color in this bastion of White academia. We are not told, or shown, that Bella wants to change any of this, that perhaps her time in Alexandria has changed her beyond the superficial act she performed earlier. If the last minute of the film suggests where the character goes beyond the film, then it is that of a return to a status quo dictated by White men. Bella, content drinking alcohol, has only invited those who have spent their time helping her or pleasing her. Harry Astley, the cynic, isn’t there. But Toinette, her lover, and Max McCandles, her other lover, are. The other woman who has experienced anything like her, Margaret Qualley’s Felicity, acts as the butler. She is told to fetch the water, which feels pointed. Bella can succeed. But any others who were in her position were told their place.

I was shocked that what is posited as the vision of Bella’s complete control and agency is just a retread of a system created by White men. The only difference, it appears, is that the new master is a White woman.

This is my profound disappointment with Poor Things. In a film where creativity in its aesthetics knows no bounds, what’s underneath simply reaffirms the status quo. The film yearns to liberate Bella from shackles, but it refuses to remove those same shackles from others.

Poor Things makes the argument that people like Bella deserve agency, help, and more, but unfortunately reaffirms that some people don’t. It’s revolutionary for some (White women), but not others (people of color). And that’s why as an audience member watching from the periphery, I see it for what it is: a White Feminist Masterpiece.