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SVEUČILIŠTE U ZAGREBU MUZIČKA AKADEMIJA

II. ODSJEK

Timna Bjažević

Reanimating Bella: The Adaptation of Poor

Things from Novel to Film

DIPLOMSKI RAD

ZAGREB, 2024.

SVEUČILIŠTE U ZAGREBU MUZIČKA AKADEMIJA

II. ODSJEK

Reanimating Bella: The Adaptation of Poor

Things from Novel to Film

DIPLOMSKI RAD

Mentorice: dr. sc. Jelka Vukobratović

dr. sc. Vanja Polić

Student: Timna Bjažević

Ak.god. 2024./2025.

ZAGREB, 2024.

DIPLOMSKI RAD ODOBRILE MENTORICE

doc. dr. sc. Jelka Vukobratović

_________________________

Potpis

izv. prof. dr. sc. Vanja Polić

_________________________

Potpis

U Zagrebu,

Diplomski rad obranjen

POVJERENSTVO:

1. izv. prof. dr. sc. Vanja Polić

2. red. prof. dr. sc. Dalibor Davidović

3. red. prof. dr. sc. Irena Paulus

OPASKA:

PAPIRNATA KOPIJA RADA DOSTAVLJENA JE ZA POHRANU KNJIŽNICI MUZIČKE

AKADEMIJE

TABLE OF CONTENTS:

1. Introduction 3

2. Methodology 5

3. Reanimating Bella: Text to Image 6

3.1. The Palimpsestuous Intertextuality of Poor Things 8

3.2. Who or What is a “Poor Thing”? 15

3.3. Who or What is (a) Chimera? 18

3.4. Alasdair Gray’s Poor Things 21

3.5. Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things 34

4. Reanimating Bella: Image to Sound 36

4.1. Functions of Narrative Film Music 37

4.2. Johnnie Burn’s and Fendrix Jerskin’s Poor Things 40

4.3. Analysis 43

5. Conclusion 68

Abstract

This paper examines Alasdair Gray's Poor Things (1992), its 2023 film adaptation by Yorgos

Lanthimos, and the film’s sound track. Gray’s multinarrative novel, a reimagining of the

Frankenstein myth, follows Bella Baxter's journey of self-discovery after her resurrection by Dr

Godwin Baxter through an experimental brain transplant. Lanthimos’ adaptation retains the

novel’s premise, reinterpreting its themes in a way that fully embraces Bella's empowerment.

This thesis argues that Lanthimos introduces the chimera motif to expand Gray’s concept of

“poor things”, with both novel and film using these motifs to shape form and structure.

Keywords: Poor Things, Alasdair Gray, Yorgos Lanthimos, adaptation studies

1. Introduction

Alasdair Gray’s novel Poor Things (1992) is one of the prime examples of Scottish

postmodernism: it is at once an original piece and an adaptation of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein.

In 2023 it has itself been adapted into a film by Yorgos Lanthimos with music composed by

Fendrix Jerskin and sound by Johnnie Burn. Although the focus of this paper will be primarily

on the film adaptation, it is a comparative analysis of three media: the 1992 novel Poor Things,

its 2023 film adaptation and the film’s sound track.

Gray’s novel reimagines the Frankenstein myth, blending elements of gothic horror with

dark satire. The novel centres on the autobiography of Archibald McCandless, who tells the story

of his fiancée Bella Baxter, resurrected by Dr Godwin Baxter through an experimental brain

transplant. Letters from Bella’s lover, Duncan Wedderburn, and Bella herself, are interwoven

into McCandless’ narrative, followed by a letter from McCandless’ wife, Victoria, with both

texts framed by the introduction and “Notes Historical and Critical” written by the ‘editor’

Alasdair Gray.1 The novel is structured as a “collection of voices”, with each narrative

interrupting or contradicting the other, amplifying uncertainty by interweaving real historical

figures and events with fictionalized accounts (Rhind 170). As the story unfolds, this

fragmentation undermines McCandless’ account, causing his version of events to lose authority.

At the centre of this fragmented structure is Bella, a creature composed of her own infants’ brain

and her dead-mother’s body, who, developing rapidly, embarks on a journey of self-discovery.

Her unconventional origins and upbringing allow her to defy societal expectations, pushing

boundaries as she explores themes of identity, desire, and self-creation. In his adaptation,

Lanthimos retains the novel’s premise and core themes but shifts from its metanarrative structure

1 I will refer to the editor as 'Alasdair Gray' to differentiate him from the author, Alasdair Gray, following Neil James

Rhind's practice in Alasdair Gray and the Postmodern.

to a more classical, Hollywood style narrative that aligns with Campbell’s archetypal hero’s

journey. The director also kills off Scotland by changing the primary setting from 19th century

Glasgow to a futuristic, steampunk-inspired version of 19th century London, with Bella as the

focalizer. The choice to give Bella more agency significantly shapes the plot, providing a more

definite and seemingly triumphant resolution to her story. In this ending, Bella emerges as an

empowered, sexually liberated woman challenging societal norms, on her path to becoming one

of the first female doctors. Alongside her stand Max McCandless, her husband, who

paradoxically embodies qualities of a Victorian wife, and Toinette, her best friend and lover. The

film also introduces Felicity, another experiment like Bella, and a key moment where Bella’s

ex-husband, General Blessington, is punished through the same experiment, receiving a goat’s

brain implanted into his body.

This thesis argues that Lanthimos expands on Gray’s concept of ‘poor things’ by introducing

a new one – chimera. In Greek mythology, Chimera is a fire-breathing she-monster with a lion’s

head, a goat’s body, and a serpent’s tail, while in a biological sense, it refers to an organism

composed of mixed genetic tissues. The director adds his absurdist twist through a third

definition of chimera as a symbol of an unattainable or illusory desire. This thesis examines how

the motifs shape the structure and form of the three works, focusing on how they manifest in

Lanthimos’ contemporary interpretation of Gray’s text.

2. Methodology

Given the broad repertoire of sources involved in a tripartite comparative analysis, this

thesis adopts an interdisciplinary methodology bridging literature, film, and music studies. Its

primary aim is to answer the what, who, why, how, when, and where of Linda Hutcheon’s Theory

of Adaptation (2006). Seminal works like Brian McFarlane's Novel to Film (1996) and George

Bluestone's Novels into Film (1957) offer valuable case studies of specific novel-to-screen

adaptations. However, as Hutcheon argues, while these works provide insight, they often

prioritize individual interpretations over broader theoretical perspectives in adaptation studies

(Hutcheon, Adaptation Studies xiii). While the soundtrack analysis in this thesis incorporates

Hutcheon’s approach, it primarily relies on Claudia Gorbman’s notion of film as a “combinatoire

of expression”, as presented in “Narrative Film Music”. This concept highlights the interplay of

all cinematic elements – image, sound effects, dialogue, and music – as inseparable components

that generate specific meaning and are equally important in the overall cinematic worldbuilding

process (Gorbman, “Narrative Film Music” 190).

3. Reanimating Bella: Text to Image

Different media, from literature to performance and interactive experiences like video

games, engage audiences in distinct ways, which Hutcheon categorizes into three modes: telling,

showing, and interacting – each with its own means of expression (Hutcheon 22-23). These

modes structure Hutcheon’s analysis of the key elements of adaptation the: what, who, why, how,

when, and where of adaptation. Hutcheon’s framework for analysing adaptation helps break

down the core elements involved in transforming a source text. The what refers to the content

retained or altered in the adaptation, while the who considers the adapter’s creative influence, as

well as the characters involved. The why addresses the motivation behind adapting the work,

which can be cultural relevance or new interpretations. The how looks at the technical and

artistic methods used in the adaptation, like visual or auditory storytelling in film. The when and

where focus on the historical context and setting, showing how adaptations engage with their

own time and place, often reshaping the original themes to fit contemporary concerns (xv – xvi).

Hutcheon’s view of “adaptations as adaptations, as autonomous works […] as deliberate,

announced, and extended revisitations of prior works” challenges the traditional, fidelity-based

critique that assumes an adaptation’s goal is to simply reproduce the original (xiv, xvi).

Adaptations, shaped by the context in which they are created, are influenced by multiple factors

beyond the source text. They do not exist in isolation; rather, they are rooted in their specific

time, place, society, and culture. For this reason, Hutcheon prefers the term adapted text, a more

neutral, descriptive term that avoids the hierarchical implications of the source text (xiii). Instead

of being arranged in a vertical hierarchy, adaptations and their sources coexist on a horizontal

plane, where multiple versions hold equal significance. The basis of Hutcheon analysis lies in her

dual interpretation of an adaptation – as both a product and a process of creation and reception

(xiv). Adaptation, as a product, inherently involves “transcoding”, a process of shifting mediums,

genres, or perspectives, that invites reinterpretation (Hutcheon 8). In this process, Lanthimos

omits the metafictional layers of Gray’s work as well as a substantial part of the socialist political

views embedded in the novel. However, through Lanthimos’ distinctive absurdist humour and

surrealist visuals the adaptation stays within the genre of dark science fiction comedy, while also

opening the political aspect of the film to a more universal application. The shift in the work’s

political focus primarily lies in the decision to narrate Bella’s story from her own perspective.

This reorientation underlines its feminist themes, albeit, at the expense of Gray’s Glaswegian and

socialist voice. While such changes alter the plot, they underline Hutcheon’s view of adaptations

as a process of “both (re-)interpretation” and “(re-)creation” (Hutcheon 8). It is an approach that

functions as “both appropriation and salvaging” (ibid.) This “reanimation” breathes new life into

narratives, so they may resonate with a fresh audience in a contemporary context (ibid.). In

discussing adaptation as a process of reception, Hutcheon draws on Gérard Genette’s notion of

"second-degree" texts, alongside Roland Barthes’ concept found in From Work to Text of "text"

as a network of “echoes, citations, and references” (qtd. in Hutcheon 6). In other words, when

viewed through the lens of reception, adaptation functions as a form of intertextuality: we engage

with adaptations as layered works, or palimpsests, through our memories of other texts that echo

in the new version.

3.1. The Palimpsestuous Intertextuality of Poor Things

Any text is a hypertext, creating itself out of a hypotext, an earlier version that it

transforms or imitates. Palimpsests: Literature in the Second Degree is a study of what Genette

terms hypertextuality, that is, any relation uniting a text B (hypertext), to an earlier text A

(hypotext), upon which it is crafted in a way that is not that of commentary (Genette 5). Alasdair

Gray’s Poor Things very explicitly operates as a massively palimpsestuous hypertext in

Genette’s sense, where the text overlays and transforms existing narratives. In this case, Mary

Shelley’s Frankenstein – which prominently integrates the myths of Prometheus and Milton’s

Paradise Lost (1667) – serves as the hypotext for Gray’s novel. Gray’s novel, in turn, becomes a

hypotext for Yorgos Lanthimos’s film, which incorporates Emersonian individualism, while also

visually underlining the biblical narrative of Eve’s sin. This creates a mise-en-abyme of texts that

reimagine the themes of creation, autonomy, and identity.

Further underlining this, Gray, in the front matter of Poor Things, explicitly

acknowledges using Christopher Small’s study of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, Ariel Like a

Harpy (1972), as an intertext. Small’s analysis contextualizes Frankenstein as both a product of

its time and a myth that endures. The myth of Frankenstein has often been reduced to a

simplified tale of a mad scientist and his Faustian quest for knowledge, yet such readings

overlook its deeper significance as an allegory for psychomania – which is the very reason why

the myth continues to resonate: it symbolically portrays the mental and emotional struggles

rooted in psychological conflict. These themes persist regardless of how the inner turmoil or

existential crises are embodied (Levine 209). This tension is present both in Victor’s pursuit of

knowledge and its creature’s anguish and longing for acceptance, while in Gray’s work, it is

combined in the character of Godwin and Bella Baxter.

Furthermore, the characters’ inner conflict is but a mirror to Shelley’s. Embedded within

Frankenstein is “one of the key Romantic” interpretations of John Milton’s Paradise Lost

(1667), an epic poem about the fall of humankind that has, as a seminal text, exerted a

hegemonic influence on generations of writers (Gilbert 49). Sandra Gilbert’s “Horror’s Twin:

Mary Shelley’s Monstrous Eve” examines Frankenstein as a deeply personal text for Mary

Shelley, one that mirrors her own psychological and existential struggles, particularly

surrounding themes of motherhood, creativity, and alienation. Gilbert interprets Frankenstein as

Shelley’s exploration of the “male culture myth” embedded in Paradise Lost, using it to critique

and reimagine the myth’s implications for women (48). She argues that the novel parallels

Paradise Lost by presenting a “monstrous Eve” through Victor creature, who embodies themes

of fallenness, alienation, and the societal rejection of deviant or monstrous femininity (52, 68).

Gilbert connects the creature’s existential suffering to Eve’s in Paradise Lost, portraying both as

figures who confront rejection, isolation, and an awareness of their “otherness” within a

male-dominated society (65). The article also draws connections between Victor Frankenstein’s

scientific creation and maternal experiences, seeing Frankenstein’s obsessive quest to create life

as a distorted form of maternity (59). Lamb suggests that while Shelley incorporates Milton’s

work to provide a framework for the creature’s self-awareness, her interpretation of it signals to

it as a “repository of restrictive patterns of self-identification”, of only “two possible figures of

individualism: Lucifer and Adam” (Lamb 306). The creature, a tabula rasa ends up turning to

destruction because of him being abandoned by his creator and ostracized by society, underlined

in his lines to Victor: “I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel” (Milton ch. 10,

84). Shelley, as Lamb suggests, “set out to break” these limits by reimagining Paradise Lost to

explore themes of authorship and create space for the question, “What was I?” – thus adding a

new voice to the discourse on identity (ibid.). Although Shelley doesn’t overturn Milton’s

patterns – since the creature, devastated by rejection, embraces destruction and aligns himself

with evil – by having him question the restrictive structures leading to his downfall, Shelley

transforms Paradise Lost from a hegemonic “monologue” into an open “dialogue” (Lamb 319).

Another text that Shelley “reconfigures, recontextualizes, and thus modernizes”, as the

subtitle The Modern Prometheus suggests is the myth of the Titan Prometheus (Hustis 845).

After Prometheus steals fire (symbolizing knowledge) from Zeus to give to humanity, he is

condemned to be chained to a rock, where a vulture perpetually eats away at his liver. Hustis

argues that Shelley “deconstructs the story of Prometheus as a masculinist narrative of

patriarchal authority and (in)justice” by focusing on another aspect of the myth, namely, “the

offspring’s need for sustained guidance, influence, pity, and support from its creator” ultimately

highlighting “the issue of responsible creativity” (845). While both Frankenstein and Baxter are

Promethean figures, Baxter avoids the tragic consequences that Frankenstein faces. This is

because Baxter, having been an experiment himself under his surgeon father Sir Collin, learns

the importance of caring for his creation (Rhind 191). Unlike Frankenstein, who neglects his

creature, Baxter understands the responsibility that comes with creation, and this shapes his

approach to Bella. Further, Frankenstein abandons his second creature, a female project who he

throws into the sea weighted by a basket filled with stones, “a disposal reversed in Baxter’s

resurrection of a weighted body recovered from the Clyde” (ibid.). This is one of the reasons

Gray’s Bella does not go through the same process Frankenstein’s creature does – the crisis of

being abandoned by her creator. Although she acknowledges Godwin Baxter as her creator, as

the often-used abbreviation of his name to God suggests, the ironical shift between Shelley’s and

Gray’s creature lies in the fact that Bella even fails to notice Baxter’s remorse in asking her to

“forgive [him] for making [her] like this (Gray, PT 52 qtd. in Rhind 191). Although Godwin

created Bella out of selfish motives – seeking companionship, love, and scientific curiosity – his

self-serving intentions gradually fade as he feels the weight of parental responsibility. Bella does

not harbour resentment toward Godwin; instead, she expresses gratitude for her existence: “You

made me strong and sure of myself, God, by teaching me about the fine and mighty things in the

world and showing me I was one of them” (Gray, PT 195). Aware that he cannot impart

knowledge of all the world's aspects, Baxter ultimately allows Bella to pursue her own path.

However, on this journey, Bella learns that her existence as a female creation brings

forward the additional layer of gender dynamics and societal constraints that confine her

autonomy within social narratives that exert control over her body and identity. As the novel

progresses, the transgressiveness inscribed in Bella’s monstrously convoluted body that enabled

her gendered defiance of social roles, becomes a metaphor for her failure to regain control from

“textually dominant male characters” (March 333). In the film adaptation, the narrative shifts to

Bella’s perspective, granting her a more nuanced role. It accentuates her gender by reframing the

themes from the myths of Prometheus and Paradise Lost within the context of Eve’s sin,

highlighting Bella’s role as both the “‘cause of’ and ‘stand in’ for desire” (Bronfen 121). In

doing so, the film fully embraces Gray’s intention to: “[W]rite a story that turned Frankenstein

upside-down: Bella, if she is a fabrication, then is nothing like Mary Shelley’s monster. Instead,

Bella is both sexually irresistible and sexually liberated – a most appealing character in the

novel” (Gray, qtd. in Vardoulakis 147). As Bella is physically maturing, Lanthimos chooses to

highlight Eve’s sin of knowledge by vividly illustrating this connection. The scene in which

Bella discovers “happy when she wants” (Lanthimos, PT 0:27:02), through the help of an apple,

marks the beginning of her journey of self-discovery through sexuality, i.e., her “fall into gender”

(Gilbert 52).

Lanthimos further amplifies this shift from both Mary Shelley’s and Gray’s creature by

incorporating Emersonian individualism into his narrative. Soon after Bella begins exploring her

sexuality on her own, she meets Duncan Wedderburn. Still developing and easily infatuated,

Bella becomes captivated by Wedderburn, who persuades her to travel with him. Already at their

first stop in Lisbon, Wedderburn starts to tire as he struggles to keep up with Bella’s boundless

sexual appetite, energy, and curiosity. To restrain her, he boards her onto an ocean liner without

her formal consent. However, Bella quickly finds companionship there with Martha, a wealthy

elderly woman, and Harry Astley, an American cynic, who introduce her to their own life’s

philosophies. While Martha serves as a model of a self-sufficient woman, Astley teaches Bella

about the cruelties of the world. The boat sequence marks the next stage in Bella’s cognitive

development, further underlined by her reading of Ralph Waldo Emerson. In Self-Reliance,

Emerson argues that individualism has the power to reshape society, not through large-scale

movements but by transforming lives one at a time and cultivating leaders with the potential for

greatness. According to him, no external force – whether religion, society, or tradition – should

dictate how one lives. Instead, people should live authentically, guided by their inner convictions

rather than conforming to pre-established social or religious frameworks (Wolf 258). However,

just as Shelley recontextualizes Milton’s epic to address the limitations of his framework for her

own experience, Bella offers a critique of Emerson’s philosophy. While Bella agrees with his

views on “improvement of men”, she questions “why he does not give advice to women”

(Lanthimos, PT 01:10:19 – 01:10:23).

In line with this recontextualization, Bella’s nonconformity to traditional female

behaviour allows her to embody both Eve and the Other. As a female experiment brought up by

Baxter, a Promethean figure who learns the lesson of creative responsibility, Bella bridges the

roles of Eve and Adam. This duality is emphasized in Bronfen’s argument which states that “the

surveyor of woman in herself is male; [the woman] turns herself into an object” (121). By

embodying both the creator and the creation, Bella explores desire from multiple perspectives.

Although she shares the experimental origins of Baxter and Frankenstein’s creature, Bella does

not share their monstrous appearances. Instead, her existence demonstrates that sinfulness and

transgression, as symbolized by Eve, do not require monstrous form. Bella’s challenge to societal

norms and expectations lies in her assertion of autonomy and desire, which becomes an act of

defiance against traditional moral boundaries. While both the book and the film portray Bella’s

body as a product of experimentation, its qualities permeating the media’s design and structure,

the film fully embraces this through its visual storytelling, where her body becomes both an

object of societal gaze and a site of personal autonomy. Numerous scenes of sex and nudity have

provoked criticism, much of which centres on whether Poor Things can be considered a feminist

work.2 This thesis argues that by acknowledging the potential for Bella to be sexualized and

objectified, the film transcends the male gaze, as defined by Mulvey, and instead grants Bella –

and the audience – an x-ray vision. Through this panoptic perspective, Bella becomes a spectacle

of desire: at once an “object of information” and a “subject in communication” (Foucault,

200-201). Bella’s dual role as both the product and the process of scientific curiosity – the

embodiment of the desire for knowledge – allows her to critique the norms shaped by the Other.

2 For film reviews discussing Poor Things’ feminist themes, see Ahmed et al., “‘She’s bound and gagged for

laughs’: is Poor Things a feminist masterpiece – or an offensive male sex fantasy?”; Loayza, “Is Poor Things a

Feminist Film? Is Barbie? These Have Become Meaningless Questions”; Lang, “Poor Things and the Profoundly

Feminist Origins of Frankenstein”; Bastién, “Is Poor Things the Best We Can Do for Female Sexuality Onscreen?”;

Chang, “Unhinged yet uplifting, 'Poor Things' is an un-family-friendly 'Barbie'”; Fry Shultz, “Poor Things: A

perverted, Daliesque misadventure”, among many others.

In doing so, she positions herself as a creation that navigates between subverting these norms and

selectively reintegrating them. This echoes Hutcheon’s discussion of postmodern art, which,

following Foucault’s analysis of power in The History of Sexuality (1980) does not merely resist

authority but inscribes and challenges it simultaneously. In postmodern works like Poor Things,

this "doubled discourse" becomes a way to explore power relations, where the process of

creating meaning itself challenges the very structures that try to define it (Hutcheon, A Poetics of

Postmodernism, 186). As Hutcheon explains, power in postmodern art is not merely a tool for

control but a dynamic force, constantly being produced and reproduced, often in a simultaneous

embrace and critique of its own mechanisms (ibid.).

3.2. Who or What is a “Poor Thing”?

In her essay “Bella Baxter: Gorgeous Monster”, Grace Richardson posits that the novel

centres on gender politics, intertwining three key themes: (1) transformation: Bella is created out

of two “poor things” – the lifeless body of a young woman, Victoria, abused by her father and

husband, and her unborn child. This reconstruction gives her a second chance at life, with Bella’s

transformation symbolizing a shift from her previous life of oppression and victimhood to a new

identity, where she can reshape her destiny free from the traumas of her past. This renewal

allows Bella to challenge social norms and expectations, which, along with Baxter’s liberal

education enhances her circumstances, as he supports her growth based on experimentation,

cultural immersion, and accumulation of knowledge through experience. (2) reversal: As much

as Bella’s upbringing and the knowledge she gains define her, these same factors would have

similarly shaped Victoria’s child had she given birth. Bella thus presents a rebirth of Victoria and

General Blessington’s child, altering the course of his lineage, erasing the ideologies of

colonialism, elitism, and the rigid British class system that would have been passed down. (3)

rebirth: Bella’s experience becomes a symbol of human suffering as a catalyst for social reform.

In line with this, Richardson also points out the two crucial concepts that shape Bella’s

experience – “making and scarring”. The novel’s emphasis on the theme of "making", with

chapters like “Making Me”, “Making Godwin Baxter”, and “Making Bella Baxter” highlights the

development of its key characters in line with previously discussed notions of identity

constructed through discourse. In the novel, Bella’s scaring is open to interpretations from

various characters: while McCandless attributes it to Godwin Baxter's surgical procedures,

Victoria links it to childhood abuse, and Wedderburn labels it a witch mark, viewing her as a

monstrous threat to social norms (Richardson; Sheridan; Lauder). While the reasoning may

differ, the scar stands as a symbol to outside influences that shape an individual. Sara Sheridan

looks at the other poor (female) characters in Gray’s novel: Godwin’s mother and housekeeper

Mrs. Dinwiddie, Madame Cronquebil and her Parisian sex workers and General Blessington’s

mistress, Dolly. All working-class women and socially vulnerable, they serve as foils to Bella

Baxter. Bella’s open-minded interactions with these women, underscore different aspects of

Bella’s character while also reflecting the limited female autonomy of the 19th century

(Sheridan).

Vardoulakis provides a more philosophical perspective on the concept of “poor things”,

interpreting it as an “extraordinary figure [that] deconstructs the division between animality and

autonomy, thereby leading to a post-humanist cosmopolitanism” (137). His argument that the

"individual call for emancipation is a call for the emancipation of the whole of humanity” (140)

ties in with Richardson’s notion of rebirth. In this view, Bella's desire for freedom transcends her

own personal journey, becoming a metaphor for collective liberation. As Vardoulakis states, "the

lesson on freedom does not pertain only to a singular individual, but to individuality as such”

(140). The phrase “poor things” encapsulates beings shaped by external forces – scientific,

romantic, or social – suggesting that autonomy cannot be disentangled from these influences.

The novel destabilizes binary oppositions, presenting Bella as both a product of scientific

experimentation and a woman capable of profound personal growth and freedom. Vardoulakis

argues that the rejection of binaries is central to the novel's exploration of humanity, especially in

its challenge to conventional definitions of autonomy, control, and individuality (140). Bella’s

assertion, “I am a woman of the world”, reflects her claim to cosmopolitanism, not as an isolated

individual figure but as a figure connected to collective human struggles (Gray, PT 47, 142 qtd.

in Vardoulakis 139). It is for this reason that the theme persists, as it applies to both state or

personal identity building, to both national and gender politics. Vardoulakis argues that

“humanity, then, will be free as long as it excludes the animal, as long as it overcomes

mechanicity” (139). However, Poor Things critiques this exclusion, showing how attempts to

erase the automaton or animal ultimately re-centre these elements. He highlights Godwin

Baxter’s instruction to Bella to “forget nothing” as an attempt to grant her freedom through total

memory, yet the narrative reveals that the automaton’s presence persists, blurring the boundaries

between freedom and subjugation (Gray PT 262 qtd. in Vardoulakis 139). Lanthimos’s

adaptation reinforces this instability using the Chimera, a symbol that embodies hybridity and

defies categorization. Bella’s experiment on the General mirrors the novel’s broader interrogation

of autonomy, as it raises questions about the limits of freedom when others are treated as tools.

Vardoulakis highlights that the automaton is “excluded from freedom because they are automata

and thus freedom must exclude them if it is to exist at all” (139). Yet, as both the novel and the

film illustrate, no observer remains independent of these forces; they are “simultaneously – and

because of their observing – also displaced inside it” (187). Ultimately, the figure of the “poor

thing” embodies the perpetual instability of human identity, where autonomy and automaticity

are inextricably linked. This dynamic challenges simplistic notions of freedom, presenting a

cosmopolitanism that includes the animal and the automaton as integral to the human condition,

making Bella’s journey both personal and universal – a symbol of the ongoing negotiation

between individual and collective emancipation.

3.3. Who or What is (a) Chimera?

Chimera, when capitalized, refers to the fire-breathing monster from Greek mythology –

a creature with a lion’s head, a goat’s body, and a serpent’s tail. In broader terms, chimera

symbolizes an illusion, an unrealizable dream, or an organism composed of diverse genetic

tissues (Powell 333; Martin 205). In both myth and modern science, the “chimera” disrupts

categories, blending incongruous elements to challenge notions of unity, coherence, and identity.

In Poor Things, Bella exemplifies the chimerical. Made from Victoria’s body and her own brain,

Bella is a composite being whose dual origin – both herself and, in a way, her mother’s

reincarnation – complicates traditional understandings of identity. As Baxter explains, “Well,

technically, you are your baby, and also, I suppose you are your mother. And also, neither”

(Lanthimos, PT 01:52:30-01:52:42). This description aligns with Martin’s assertion that chimeras

disrupt the liberal individualist ideal of a singular, genetically uniform self, instead embodying

multiplicity and fragmentation (Martin 207). Bella’s composite nature thus destabilizes the

alignment of body, genome, and personhood, presenting a critique of identity-building projects

that rely on singularity. Lanthimos reinforces this theme by visually amplifying chimerical

motifs. Throughout the film, hybrids such as duck-dogs and pig-hens appear, embodying the

tension between coherence and fragmentation. The culmination of this imagery is the General’s

transformation, where his life ends not in suicide, as in Gray’s novel, but through Bella

implanting a goat brain into his body. This act transforms him into a literal chimera, evoking

Powell’s observation that chimerical forms are often rendered as unsettling, yet vulnerable and

empathetic (Powell 334). The General’s new form – a scapegoat in both body and symbolic

meaning – captures the chimerical fusion of victimhood and monstrosity, critiquing patriarchal

oppression and mirroring Bella’s own precarious position between subversion and complicity.

The goat, central to both the mythological Chimera and the General’s transformation, functions

as a powerful symbol of sacrifice and blame. The General, transformed into a grotesque hybrid

as punishment for his tyranny, becomes a literalized scapegoat, carrying the burden of his

patriarchal excesses. However, his monstrosity also reflects the broader systemic violence of a

society that constructs individuals based on rigid hierarchies of power and control. This duality

resonates with Bella’s chimerical identity, further deepening her role as both a product and a

participant in societal dynamics. As Martin explains, chimeras disrupt the liberal ideal of the

autonomous individual by embodying multiplicity and fragmentation (Martin 207-209). Bella’s

composite nature already destabilizes the Enlightenment-inspired notion of a unified, rational

self; however, her actions in the film amplify this critique. By choosing to punish the General

rather than using his body to prolong Baxter’s life, Bella asserts her agency and independence.

Yet this act also implicates her in the same creative irresponsibility she previously condemned in

Baxter, aligning her with the problematic dynamics of control and manipulation she ostensibly

seeks to reject. This moment of complicity highlights the broader critique embedded in Poor

Things: the impossibility of achieving absolute autonomy without perpetuating some form of

domination. Bella’s rise as Baxter’s successor symbolizes a shift in power, yet it also mirrors the

cyclical nature of oppression, where the creative and destructive forces of chimerism are

inextricably linked. The General’s transformation serves as a reminder that attempts to construct

freedom or autonomy by excluding the animal and the automaton – the very essence of

chimerical hybridity – are doomed to fail. As Powell suggests, chimeras force us to reconcile

with the uncomfortable realities of hybridity, where vulnerability and monstrosity coexist

(Powell 336-337). Bella’s multiplicity challenges the foundations of modern liberal institutions

that demand clear boundaries between self and other, between human and non-human. Martin’s

analysis underscores how chimeras, by blurring these distinctions, expose the limits of

individualism as a political ideal (Martin 210). Bella’s chimerical identity, and her actions, reflect

the impossibility of a wholly autonomous individual, underscoring Lanthimos’ commentary on

the tensions between freedom and control through the enduring legacy of hybridity.

3.4. Alasdair Gray’s Poor Things

Alasdair Gray (1934–2019) was a transformative figure in Scottish literature and visual

arts, whose work redefined the boundaries of modern Scottish fiction (March 327). His 1981

novel Lanark: A Life in Four Books is widely regarded as a piece that merges social realism with

surrealism, establishing his unique voice in postmodern literature. Gray's narratives often tackle

complex themes of identity, politics, and mental health, breaking new ground in exploring issues

like sexuality and power. His deep connection to his home city of Glasgow is evident throughout

his work. Beyond writing, Gray was also an accomplished illustrator and muralist, contributing

to Glasgow’s cultural landscape with works in venues like the Òran Mór and Hillhead subway

station. His influence extends across Scottish writers such as Irvine Welsh and Ali Smith,

cementing his legacy as a central figure in Scotland's literary history (“Alasdair Gray”).

As the following paragraphs will demonstrate, Gray’s 1992 novel Poor Things uses

postmodern techniques to challenge traditional notions of reality, presenting multiple, contesting

narratives in a fragmented structure that blends elements of fiction and history. This approach

aligns with McHale's definition of postmodern fiction, which shifts the focus from modernist

epistemological concerns – questions about knowledge and its understanding – to ontological

inquiries that address the nature of reality itself (McHale 9-11). In other words, instead of

focusing on how a world can be understood or interpreted, postmodern works shift the emphasis

to questions such as: “What is a world? What kinds of worlds are there, how are they constituted,

and how do they differ?: What happens when different kinds of worlds are placed in

confrontation, or when boundaries between worlds are violated?” (McHale 10). This marks a

significant shift in narrative techniques, where reality is presented as fragmented, uncertain, and

often unreliable. Fredric Jameson, in “Postmodernism, or The Cultural Logic of Late

Capitalism”, characterizes postmodernism as the "cultural logic" of a late capitalist society,

emphasizing its fragmented, pluralistic structures (57-58). He notes that postmodern works

frequently embody the erosion of the distinction “between high culture and so-called mass or

commercial culture”, resulting in an aesthetic that blends disparate elements and rejects grand

narratives that once structured knowledge and history (54-55). In addition, Hutcheon emphasizes

that postmodernism is inherently contradictory: "It uses and abuses the very structures and values

it takes to task" (Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism 107). According to Hutcheon,

postmodern fiction rejects the idea of a single, absolute truth, embracing instead a plurality of

truths, suggesting that to re-write or re-present the past is to open it up to present interpretations

and prevent it from becoming final or teleological (ibid.). This aligns with her concept of

historiographic metafiction, where history and literature are intertwined, with the past understood

not as an objective truth but as something shaped by narrative and context. As she explains,

historiographic metafiction “inscribes both historical and literary intertexts” and challenges the

traditional power structures of historical knowledge (ibid). Drawing on Linda Hutcheon’s

concept of historiographic metafiction, Malpas connects Poor Things to this subgenre of

postmodern fiction (26). Historiographic metafiction is characterised by its use of self-reflexive

techniques to challenge the traditional historical narratives, blurring boundaries between reality

and fiction (Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism 117). In Gray’s novel, this is reflected in its

structure, which emphasizes the processes of narration, constantly questioning who controls the

narrative and what sort of reality is being constructed. Poor Things is “irreducibly plural”,

composed of fragmented and conflicting voices that engage with ontological, rather than

epistemological questions (Malpas 25). Rather than seeking truth or knowledge, the novel forces

readers to question the very reality of the world being depicted, creating a space for the

"suspension of belief as well as disbelief" (McHale qtd. in Malpas 25).

Starting from its cover art, the reader is immediately introduced to Poor Things’ main

narrative through its visuals: the front cover features a large figure on a sofa flanked by a man

and a woman, accompanied by two rabbits with black-and-white fur split down the middle. The

book’s spine displays a flayed skeleton and a woman’s head with an exposed brain, while the

back cover shows a flayed leg. In A Life in Pictures, Alasdair Gray, the designer and the author

of Poor Things, notes that:

“[T]he flayed hand and leg were cut out of Gray’s Anatomy, first published in 1858 and

were the required reading of Victorian medical students. I bought two cheap reprints in a

Byres Road remaindered book shop and used its splendid woodcuts (more distinct than

any photograph) to complete the book’s period flavour by filling empty space on

introductory pages and chapter endings” (242).

The front matter extends beyond traditional acknowledgments, reflecting Gray’s view of

contributions and intertexts as collaborative work while also openly revealing the novel’s

influences and origins. This is followed by a mix of fictitious reviews, including reputable

sources like The Independent and The Scotsman, alongside invented ones such as The Skibereen

Eagle and The Times Literary Implement. The section concludes with biographies of Dr.

Archibald McCandless and ‘Alasdair Gray’ the editor, as well as a second dedication to Gray’s

wife Morag3, reinforcing the novel’s approach to authorship and framing it as a collaborative and

layered narrative. The authorial role in Poor Things is shared among various characters situated

3 The second dedication refers to Morag Nimmo McAlpin, Alasdair Gray’s real-life wife, whom he married in 1991

(The Alasdair Gray Archive).

within a layered, recursive Chinese-box structure. This strategy draws attention to and

complicates what McHale describes as the “ontological horizon of the fiction”, which refers to

the boundaries and interplay between the fictional worlds within a narrative. By expanding these

multiple worlds and revealing the process of constructing them, the novel invites readers to

question the distinctions between layers of reality and fiction (McHale 112). As Rhind observes,

the world in Poor Things is pieced together through the separate perspectives of its narrators,

each undermining the others' claim to authority through their temporal simultaneity. These

fragmented perspectives emphasize the role of interpretation in the novel, as the narrative refuses

to provide a definitive reality. As will be shown, this structure invites the reader to engage

actively with the text, challenging them to establish a coherent understanding from these

competing accounts (Rhind 171).

When looking at the Chinese-box structure the framing narrative is presented by the

editor, ‘Alasdair Gray,’ through the novel’s introduction, as well as through the end notes,

labelled as “Notes Critical and Historical”. In the introduction, the editor ‘Alasdair Gray’ claims

that the text that follows, titled Episodes from the Early Life of a Scottish Public Health Officer,

is a 19th century memoir discovered by a local historian ‘Michael Donnelly’.4 Although

‘Donelly’ initially regards the text as a historical document, he later reinterprets it as “a blackly

humorous fiction into which some real experiences and historical facts have been cunningly

interwoven” (Gray xii). However, this disagreement between ‘Donnelly’ and the editor ‘Alasdair

Gray’ foregrounds the novel’s playful blurring of history and fiction. While ‘Donnelly’ questions

the text’s authenticity, the editor attempts to validate it as a historical document by compiling

evidence to support its credibility. He assures readers that, despite the original manuscript being

4 To complicate matters, and to continue his play with the worlds of reality and worlds of fiction, Gray uses the name

Michael Donelly who is incidentally also a real-life historian, and Gray’s friend.

misplaced during production, he made only minor changes, such as replacing “the lengthy

chapter headings with snappier titles” and renaming the book Poor Things – a title that,

according to him, resonates with the characters and their frequent use of the phrase (xi). By

establishing this tension between the editor’s validation and the historian’s scepticism, the

introduction not only foregrounds the novel’s approach to history and fiction but also sets up a

narrative framework that challenges the reader to question the reliability of its multiple narrators

and the boundaries between truth and invention.

This uncertainty is further complicated in the second layer, Episodes, where McCandless

autobiographical account is interwoven with letters from Bella Baxter and Duncan Wedderburn,

alongside illustrations and portraits that blur the line between factual documentation and artistic

interpretation.5 Set in 19th century Glasgow, it is a reimagining of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein,

centring on a “gorgeous monster” named Bella, a “tall, beautiful, full-bodied figure [which]

seemed between twenty and thirty years”, resurrected through an experiment by Godwin Bysshe

Baxter (29, 91). Baxter performs the reanimation by transplanting Bella’s own foetus brain into

the body of her drowned mother, Victoria. Upon examining Victoria’s corpse, Baxter discovers

she is pregnant, with the foetus still alive. Although Baxter acknowledges that he could have

revived Victoria through electrical stimulation, he deliberately chooses not to, saying he wanted

to respect her decision “not to be” (Gray 33). However, Baxter, whom McCandless describes as a

Frankenstein figure primarily due to his “ogreish” body and mezzosoprano voice, decides to

perform the experiment because he feels a “woman-shaped emptiness [in his life] that ached to

be filled” (38-39). Godwin explains to McCandless that being raised by his father, the famous

surgeon Sir Colin, desensitized him to human bodies. From birth, Godwin was immersed in

5 'Alasdair Gray' notes that „it was McCandless who filled spaces in his book with illustration […] probably because

he and his friend Baxter learned the kindly art of healing from it “(xvi).

science and anatomy, with his father conducting regular experiments on him, monitoring his vital

signs and collecting samples. By age six, Godwin was performing these tasks himself. His

upbringing shaped him to be analytical, pragmatic, and detached, viewing the world as an

experiment. For much of his life, he treated himself as his own greatest experiment, carrying the

burden of his father’s influence. Inspired by a reoccurring dream and a picture of Ophelia from

Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare, Baxter longs for a woman that would look at him with the same

excited expression and smile portrayed in the image. This longing drives him to seek more than

just a “warm living body”; he desires a woman who would see him as a saviour, “a kindly

popular beloved healer,” and who would admire him beyond his physical appearance (38-40).

Although Bella was created to be Baxter's companion, she goes against the intentions of her

creator, rejecting the relationship he desires. She expresses this by stating: “No. I can’t do it with

God, and that’s what is making him miserable. He’s too ordinary to have fun with in that kind of

way. He’s as ordinary as I am.” (emphasis mine, 51). Bella perceives Baxter more as a parental

figure than a lover. Being a Frankenstein creature herself, and shaped by her unorthodox

upbringing, Bella is not aware of oddity and instead the concept of odd in her case is the

so-called civilization around her. McCandless, although appalled by Baxter’s reasoning for

creating Bella, claiming that Baxter is a beast that seeks to “possess what men have hopelessly

yearned for throughout the ages: the soul of an innocent, trusting, dependent child inside the

opulent body of a radiantly lovely young woman”, he, “impressed by appearances” falls in love

with Bella immediately upon meeting her (36, 51). To Baxter’s shrieking dismay, Bella agrees to

marry McCandless because “[she] can treat him how [she likes]” (51-53). Just as McCandless

and Bella are about to meet after a period apart before the wedding, Duncan Wedderburn, a

lawyer whom Baxter had summoned to address the agreement, “seduces” Bella and invites her to

embark on an adventure with him. Contrary to Wedderburn’s plans to “enjoy” Bella, her high

sexual drive and insatiable curiosity, ignited by her rapid development, tire him out, reversing the

roles and Bella taking advantage of Wedderburn’s body (85). Wedderburn, shocked that a woman

has the capacity to objectify men in the pursuit of sexual pleasure, suffers a breakdown,

converting to Catholicism in Paris and declares Bella a spawn of Satan before being committed

to an asylum. Throughout her journey from Glasgow to Paris and back, Bella encounters various

figures, including Dr. Hooker and Harry Astley in Alexandria, who teach her about religion and

politics while exposing her to the harsh realities of the city's poverty. This experience proves

transformative for Bella, prompting her to declare, "from now on I would think like a woman,

not a child” (175). In Paris, Bella decides she will no longer be a “parasite” and will earn a wage

by working at Madame Cronquebil’s brothel (180). Influenced by Baxter, Bella holds a positive

view of medical care. However, Bella becomes enraged when she learns that the girls are

subjected to humiliating disease checks by a "bad-tempered drill-sergeant”, prompting her to

leave the brothel. (175). After running out of money, she returns home, demanding answers. She

asks Baxter about her child, as Wedderburn explained that the scar on her belly must mean that

she was pregnant. Baxter, unable to answer, remains silent and lets McCandless tell a lie,

claiming the trauma that erased her memory also killed the child. Throughout her upbringing and

influenced by the injustices she witnesses on her journey; Bella continually seeks ways to

improve society. Although other characters view her “hatred of suffering [as] nothing but

displaced motherhood,”6 Bella decides to follow in Baxter’s footsteps and become a doctor to

help “poor sick people” (196). Soon after her arrival McCandless arranges their wedding, but the

ceremony is interrupted by Bella's ex-husband, General Sir Aubrey de la Pole Blessington, and

6 See Gilbert, who argues that Shelley’s conflicted feelings toward maternity are mirrored in Frankenstein’s distorted

form of maternity – his obsessive quest to create life. This connection links Gray’s Bella to Victor, although a similar

logic can be applied to Victoria, who is ridiculed for her “Loving Economy”.

her father, Blaydon Hatterslay, who demand she return with them. Blessington claims legal

ownership of her body, while her father seeks the status and wealth that her marriage provides,

claiming she owes him that “because [he] gave [her] life” (224). Bella discovers that Victoria’s

suicide was caused by Blessington’s treatment of her, as he branded her an erotomaniac and

scheduled a clitoridectomy, viewing it as improper for a woman of her standing to seek intimacy

with her husband. Instead, he had an affair with a 16-year-old servant named Dolly, whom he

impregnated. After discovering the affair, Victoria was locked up but escaped with the help of

servants, only for her father to send her back. During the post-wedding confrontation, Bella

shoots herself in the foot, but later recalls that Blessington was one of her clients in Paris,

Monsieur Spankybot, exposing his fetish for role-play. Publicly shamed, Blessington commits

suicide, resolving the conflict and allowing Bella, McCandless, and Baxter to live happily ever

after.

To return to the framing narrative of the novel, along with McCandless’ Episodes, the

packet discovered by historian Michael Donnelly also contained a Letter to posterity from

Victoria McCandless MD – McCandless’ ‘real-life’ wife. Victoria McCandless is portrayed as a

pioneering socialist and feminist, whose life defies traditional Victorian expectations. After

escaping an abusive first marriage, she finds refuge with Godwin Baxter, ‘the only man [she]

truly loved’ (259). She becomes Scotland's first female medical graduate and opens a clinic for

working-class women, facing scorn for her “Bolshevik” beliefs and “Loving Economy – A

Mother’s Recipe for the End of All National and Class Warfare” (310, 307). In her letter, Victoria

dismisses Episodes as pure fiction, providing a more rational explanation to her story. She

describes Episodes as a story that:

“[s]tinks of Victorianism. It is a sham-gothic, […] a sufficiently strange story stranger still by

stirring into it episodes and phrases to be found in Hogg’s Suicide’s Grave with additional

ghouleries from the works of Mary Shelly and Edgar Allar Poe. What morbid Victorian fantasy

has he NOT filched from? I find traces of The Coming Race, Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, Dracula,

Trilby, Rider Haggard’s She, The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes and, alas, Alice Through the

Looking-Glass; a gloomier book than the sunlit Alice in Wonderland. He has even plagiarized

work by two very dear friends: G. B. Shaw’s Pygmalion and the scientific romances of Herver

George Wells. Ever since reading this infernal parody of my life-story I have been asking, WHY

DID ARCHIE WRITE IT?” (272-273).

Victoria describes McCandles as a "poor bastard bairn," noting that his concealed envy

stems from jealousy of Godwin and herself. McCandles resented Bella's privileged upbringing,

including her wealthy father, convent education, and notable first husband (273). He envied her

social skills and the strong bond she shared with Godwin, particularly the love and attention she

received from him. McCandles, on the other hand, only received friendly goodwill from them,

and in Bella's case, that goodwill was tinged with a sense of physical indulgence rather than deep

affection. However, Victoria’s narrative is questioned when ‘Gray’, in “Notes Historical” writes:

“Dr. Victoria McCandless was found dead of a cerebral stroke on 3rd December 1946. Reckoning

from the birth of her brain in the Humane Society mortuary on Glasgow Green, 18th February

1880, she was exactly sixty-six years, forty weeks, and four days old. Reckoning from the birth of

her body in a Manchester slum in 1854, she was ninety-two” (317).

In the introduction, ‘Gray’ explains his decision to include Victoria McCandless' letter as

an epilogue, reasoning that presenting it first might lead readers to form a negative view of the

main text. By placing it after the main text, the letter is framed as the “letter of a disturbed

woman who wants to hide the truth about her start in life” (xiii). This perspective aligns with

Gérard Genette’s observation in Paratexts: Thresholds of Interpretation, where he argues that

paratexts are “fundamentally heteronomous, auxiliary”, and that any “aesthetic or ideological

investment the author makes in a paratextual element, […] is always subordinate” to the main

text (12). In this way, Genette's framework helps to clarify how the letter's position in the

narrative functions as an auxiliary element that influences how we interpret the primary text.

Moreover, this uncertainty is compounded by the fact that “Archibald’s narrative is so much

more interesting and enticing and has the support of the novel’s narrator, who is traditionally

expected to be at least vaguely trustworthy” (Malpas 25). The book concludes with ‘Gray’s’

“Notes Critical and Historical”, where he provides annotations for the two texts, further

validating them by including “some 19th century engravings” (xvi).

Lynne Diamond-Nigh, in “Gray's Anatomy: When Words and Images Collide”, examines

the iconotextuality of Poor Things. She argues that Gray’s use of graphics in conjunction with

writing mirrors the fragmented structure of a cubist artwork, presenting multiple perspectives

without a single, definitive viewpoint. This fragmentation emphasizes the impossibility of

conveying an absolute or objective truth, destabilizing the reader’s expectations of narrative

authority. The paratext, which usually supports the main text, becomes central to the novel’s

structure. Using Poor Things as an example of “the diffusion and decay of the linguistic sign”

and the transformation of its “communicative power into […] a visual sign”, Diamond-Nigh

highlights how words and images intersect in Gray’s work, disrupting the conventional hierarchy

that prioritizes text over visuals (178). Gray’s novel compels readers to engage with the book as

a physical, visual object, rather than just a textual medium: “as artifice, artifact, the book

becomes a physical object, a three-dimensional sculpture” – a body assembled through that

“Frankenstein method” (Diamond-Nigh 180; Gray, A Life in Pictures 91). Alkan-Genca argues

that the novel is monstrous due to its fragmented nature, composed of disparate elements that do

not seamlessly align, doubling Bella’s monstrosity in the very act of rewriting her story: “she [is]

physically assembled, but also a combination of various discourses, the totality of which form

this unnatural frightening female entity” (72). Further, Diamond-Nigh’s observations on the book

as body and the novel’s typography and form reflect Bella’s own development and autonomy. As

the novel progresses, Bella's growth is not only reflected through her actions but also through her

evolving style of writing, which shifts from huge capital letters to “proper” handwriting. This

metamorphosis parallels her personal and intellectual maturation, symbolizing her attempt to

gain control over her narrative and her body. Diamond-Nigh explains that typography, such as

shifts from plain to italicized text, influences the reader’s perception of credibility. The visual

and textual interplay becomes most apparent in letters. When text is italicized, it feels more

personal and subjective, whereas capitalized titles, such as those in McCandless’ Episodes,

project authority and order. Bella and Duncan Wedderburn’s italicized letters are juxtaposed with

the more “believable” non-italicized exchanges between Baxter and Godwin. Victoria

McCandless’ letter also contrasts with the capitalized title of Episodes, signalling a hierarchy

between personal experience and supposedly objective narrative. Through visuals, Gray further

ironizes the idea of an absolute, “perfect” truth by presenting letters as manuscripts, while

simultaneously mocking their authenticity or credibility through the context in which they are

presented. Bella’s personal journey, much like the novel’s physical form, embodies the tension

between authenticity and artifice, with her evolving writing style mirroring her struggle to

construct a coherent sense of self amid the conflicting narratives imposed on her body and

identity.

Several critics have explored the theme of the body in Poor Things through various

lenses, connecting issues of (national) identity, gender, autonomy, and postmodernism, with

Bella’s body serving as a site where these themes converge. Donald Kaczvinsky views Bella as a

metaphor for Scotland itself – fragmented and searching for identity, much like the nation’s

uncertain position in the postmodern era. Her portrayal as “Bella Caledonia” ties her physicality

to Scotland’s own fractured sense of self, where her loss of memory parallels the country’s quest

for unity as its ties with England weaken. He emphasizes that Gray, by “literalizing the

mind/body split” reflects philosophical questions of selfhood and unity, which in turn open

questions of broader political issues on nationalism and identity (Kaczvinsky 776). At the same

time, Dimitris Vardoulakis focuses on how Bella’s body disrupts traditional distinctions between

autonomy and mechanization, embodying the tension between freedom and external control. He

argues that Bella, as both the product of Baxter’s creation and a woman asserting control over

her own body – “a subject divided between an inner mind and its outer mobile part” – reflects

broader philosophical questions about whether individuals are ever truly autonomous or always

subject to external forces – be they societal, mechanical, or political (Vardoulakis 137). In his

view, the novel challenges Enlightenment ideas of reason and animality, blurring the line

between human agency and mechanical or animalistic behaviour. Christie March, in her analysis

of Gray’s Lanark and Poor Things looks at how “Bakhtin’s concepts of the grotesque facilitate

new resistant meaning in the struggle to create and maintain a [Scottish] national identity”,

however, also broadens her argument to suggest how Gray's depiction of bodies, particularly

women's bodies, subverts traditional gender roles and societal norms, thus creating “meaningful

foundations for identity making” in general (March 324). The grotesque body, marked by

fluidity, excess and its ability to blur boundaries between inside and outside, embodies a

subversive power which enables it to disrupt the “polite” conventions of society. The gender

fluidity within the grotesque body is critical for resisting the classical body norms that define

masculinity and femininity. Yet, despite her grotesque resistance, Bella’s body and narrative

remain shaped by the forces around her, an argument which echoes Vardoulakis’ observation that

her autonomy is never fully realized, but always mediated by the structures that control her.

Alkan-Genca explores Alasdair Gray’s Poor Things as a postmodern rewriting of Frankenstein,

focusing on how, rather than a physical deformity, Bella’s beauty and sexual appetite, i.e., “[t]he

female body and sexuality become a site for the monstrous” (Alkan-Genca 69). She argues that

Bella’s body and sexuality are continuously constructed. Bella is physically and discursively

rewritten by the male characters she encounters, highlighting that monstrosity “is not

epistemologically or ontologically solid” but rather “a discursive construction” shaped by the

male gaze and appropriation (70).

3.5. Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things

Yorgos Lanthimos, a key figure in the Greek Weird Wave7, emerged with films that

explore complex power dynamics, often using absurd narratives and minimalistic cinematic

techniques. His rise to prominence began with Dogtooth (2009), a film that The Guardian critic

Steve Rose described as part of a "messed-up cinema" born out of Greece’s social and economic

turmoil following the 2008 Great Recession (Rose). Kutlu further identifies Dogtooth, a film

about a father who keeps his three children as prisoners, as a Foucauldian allegory, illustrating

"docile bodies" subjected to the sovereign and bio-power of the father, who disciplines his

children through isolation and control while maintaining a panoptic surveillance over their lives

(Kutlu 5). The Weird Wave itself, as Dimitris Papanikolaou argues, emerged during an "intense

biopolitical present", shaped by crisis neoliberalism and modern politics of surveillance, control,

and austerity (Papanikolaou 45). Lanthimos’ cinema, according to Papanikolaou, exemplifies a

“biopolitical realism” where seemingly absurd scenarios, such as the father reinterpreting

language to maintain control, resonate with broader societal experiences of governance and

power (ch. 4) . Lanthimos’s subsequent works, including Alps (2011), The Lobster (2015), The

Killing of a Sacred Deer (2017), and The Favourite (2018), continue this exploration of

interpersonal power struggles through bodies under authority (Kutlu 5). In The Lobster, for

instance, the hotel operates as a disciplinary institution, regulating the relationships and

reproduction of its residents through rules that prohibit masturbation and enforce conformity.

The staff’s regulation of intimacy mirrors familial structures of control, embodying Foucault’s

concept of bio-power, which governs life by shaping and optimizing behaviour (Kutlu 7).

7 The Greek Weird Wave refers to a movement in Greek cinema that emerged in the late 2000s characterized by

distinct features such as a “fixed camera, minimal dialogue, mechanical acting, dystopian themes, and oppressive

settings” (Chalkou and Hoeij qtd. in Kutlu 2). The storytelling often defies conventional structures, using dark

humour and breaking from traditional narrative forms to delve into topics like isolation, self-identity, and societal

expectations.

Similarly, The Killing of a Sacred Deer presents a shift from bio-power to sovereign power, with

the character Steven assuming the ultimate authority to decide life and death within his family,

echoing the hierarchical dynamics of Foucauldian sovereign control (Kutlu 7). Kutlu also

highlights Lanthimos’ cinematic techniques, such as the use of confined spaces and fragmented

framing, to visualize power relations. The narrow, enclosed environments of Dogtooth, The

Favourite, and The Killing of a Sacred Deer metaphorically compress characters, reflecting their

subjugation to various power structures (Kutlu 8). The use of wide-angle lenses and fish-eye

shots, particularly in The Favourite, emphasizes surveillance and omnipresent authority,

reinforcing Foucault’s notion of the panopticon as a tool of control (Kutlu 8). In Poor Things,

Lanthimos extends his exploration of biopolitical themes. The exaggerated visuals and

meticulous framing embody the essence of the panopticon, creating an atmosphere where

characters are simultaneously trapped and exposed. The exaggerated visuals not only convey the

physical and psychological constraints on the characters but also implicate the viewer in the act

of observation, making them part of the system of control. This dual perspective aligns with

Foucault’s argument that power is most effective when it is internalized and omnipresent, even if

invisible (214). As Kutlu notes, Lanthimos’ absurdist narratives do not merely entertain but

interrogate the mechanisms of power, discipline, and autonomy, offering a layered commentary

on the interplay between individual agency and systemic control (Kutlu 9).

4. Reanimating Bella: Image to Sound

While the previous chapter, “Reanimating Bella: Text to Image,” discusses the adaptation of

Gray’s text into Lanthimos' visual work, this chapter, “Image to Sound,” emphasizes how the

film’s soundtrack and sound design emerged directly from Lanthimos’ interpretation. Apart from

screenwriter McNamara, the team was instructed not to read Gray’s novel while working on the

film (Film at Lincoln Center, 5:35-5:50). As a result, sound, along with costumes, set design, and

cinematography, was primarily guided by Lanthimos’ vision of what transgressiveness means for

Bella’s character. Elaborating on the ideas of the adapted text, Lanthimos underlines that Bella’s

monstrosity does not lie in her physical form as an experiment, a creature made from animate

and inanimate parts, nor in her gender, but rather in her subversion of the norms that mark her as

deviant. Consequently, the design of the film mirrors Gray’s idea of taking the Frankenstein

method of animating the inanimate (and vice versa) and creating a beautiful monster. This is

evident in both the costumes and set design: furniture resembles body parts, walls are soft and

cushioned, and the fabrics of the costumes feel almost as if they are breathing. As the analysis

that follows will show, the same approach is apparent in Johnnie Burn’s sound design and

Fendrix Jerskin’s score.

4.1. Functions of Narrative Film Music

Film music is music that is composed, arranged, improvised or selected specifically to

accompany a motion picture. From its beginnings, it was part of the cinema. Although, for the

first three decades of the new art, i.e., the silent cinema, sound was not part of the film reel, the

viewing experience was not mute. It would be accompanied by live or recorded performances,

original compositions and compilations of existing works, as well as highly orchestrated pieces

and those created spontaneously through improvisation. This practice dates to the earliest days of

cinema, with the first projected images either showcasing a musical performance or being

accompanied by one. Its function differs across time periods and cultures, and even within the

same culture. Nonetheless, film music consistently plays a crucial role in defining meaning and

expressing emotion, guiding the viewer’s reactions to the visuals and enhancing their connection

to the media (Lampl 5-9). Annabel Cohen, in “The Functions of Music in Multimedia: A

Cognitive Approach” outlines seven functions of music in multimedia. The first, masking,

involves concealing unwanted sounds by adding masking sounds. Historically, music was

introduced in cinemas partly to cover projector noise and audience sounds, and it continues to

serve a similar role today, masking the sounds of multimedia machinery. Masking is also a

common technique in film sound editing: (1) frequency masking, where lower frequencies cover

higher ones; (2) coherence masking, where music's continuity holds the listener’s attention,

preventing distraction from extraneous sounds; and (3) informational masking, where sequential

sounds are more easily recognizable than isolated ones. Secondly, music is temporally structured

and often acts as a binding element, helping to unify dispersed events, connect shots, and create a

sense of temporal continuity. Its structural aspect also directs attention, making visually aligned

elements more noticeable. Psychological studies have shown that music can alter a listener’s

mood – particularly for viewer-listeners in film contexts – though this should be differentiated

from the fifth, communicative function, where music conveys information and emotional

meaning, especially in scenes with ambiguous tones. Regarding the sixth function, Cohen notes

that film music, like some other audiovisual arts, has adopted Wagner's compositional technique

of using leitmotifs, allowing music to carry meaning or suggest associations. Based on recent

neurophysiological and psychological studies, Cohen identifies a seventh function of music in

multimedia: its ability to boost the viewer’s concentration. Music activates multiple, independent

brain regions, engaging more of the brain than when no music is present. This heightened

activity can help sharpen focus, diminish outside distractions, and immerse the listener more

fully in the multimedia world, making it easier to engage with the virtual reality presented

(14-17). Kalinak, on the other hand, focuses specifically on film music, exploring additional

roles unique to the cinematic experience. Film music, according to Kalinak, can establish the

setting by specifying a particular time or place, crafting a mood, and building atmosphere. It

draws attention to onscreen or offscreen elements, clarifying plot points and guiding narrative

flow. Moreover, music can foreshadow upcoming developments and shape viewer responses to

them. Kalinak also highlights how music in film reveals characters’ motivations and inner

thoughts, contributing to emotional depth and allowing viewers to connect with characters on a

psychological level. Film music can bring out emotional nuances in scenes that may be only

subtly implied visually, while also unifying sequences of otherwise disconnected images and

adding rhythmic pacing (13-17). Additionally, Kalinak notes that music encourages immersion

by directing focus away from the film's technical aspects – its two-dimensionality, the

larger-than-life visuals, or black-and-white and silent elements – allowing audiences to become

fully absorbed in the cinematic experience (1-7). In addition to Cohen’s multimedia approach

and Kalinak’s film-specific analysis, Claudia Gorbman provides a focused examination of

narrative film music. She explores how music in narrative cinema functions through a complex

interplay, or combinatoire, of various expressive elements that work together to generate

meaning. According to Gorbman, film music communicates on three levels: pure musical codes

(meaning created by the music itself), cultural musical codes (the associations and expectations

brought by genre, style, and cultural references), and cinematic musical codes (relationships with

other film elements like visuals and narrative structure) (Unheard Melodies 2-3). This layered

approach means that film music both complements and shapes the narrative by invoking cultural

connotations and by embedding itself into the cinematic context, thus guiding viewer

interpretation. Gorbman argues that music in film is far from incidental; it is integral to the

narrative experience, creating emotional resonance, unifying visual elements, and even managing

viewer attention (“Narrative Film Music” 183). It not only reinforces the narrative’s mood and

tone but also mediates between different narrative levels – diegetic and nondiegetic, objective

and subjective viewpoints. By doing so, music in film extends beyond mere background,

influencing the viewer’s perception of time, space, and atmosphere. In this way, Gorbman

highlights that film music is deeply embedded in the filmic system, actively shaping the viewer's

emotional and interpretive experience through a blend of codes.

4.2. Johnnie Burn’s and Fendrix Jerskin’s Poor Things

Johnnie Burn is a Brighton based award-winning film sound designer, editor and mixer. He

worked with Lanthimos on several of his previous projects including The Lobster, Killing of the

Sacred Deer and The Favourite. Alongside Tarn Willers, Burn won the 2024 Academy Award

for Best Sound in the 2023 Jonathan Glazer film The Zone of Interest. For Poor Things he has

worked as a supervising sound editor, sound designer and re-recording mixer, meaning he was

involved in the whole of the film and had the most impact on the final auditory aspect of the

film. In explaining his process and approach to the worldbuilding of Poor Things, he states that

the goal was to “get to the usual destination by an alternative work”, or in other words, “in order

to have a soundscape that works and doesn’t sort of stick out like a sore thumb, we needed to

find sounds that were less normal” (Muirhead 2:21 – 2:40). In the same interview, he discusses

his use of human sounds to represent mechanical objects. For instance, Baxter is characterized by

the bubbling yet mechanical sounds of his external digestive system. The boat, treated as a

character, is designed through a layering of human sounds, primarily a heartbeat, while the sound

of fireworks consists of extremely high-pitched synthesized vocals. A similar technique can be

observed in Fendrix Jerskin’s compositional approach, as he too integrates Victor Frankenstein’s

method – how to animate the inanimate.

Fendrix Jerskin, whose real name is Joscelin Dent-Pooley, grew up in the Shropshire

countryside, immersed in nature and influenced by his father’s involvement in the church. Raised

in a religious and academic environment, Fendrix was surrounded by Protestant choir music and

the organ. His early exposure to sacral music was complemented by piano and violin training

from a young age, as well as the Internet’s eclectic and unbound horizons of music, all which

formed the foundation of his artistic sensibilities. He studied classical music at Cambridge

University and became involved in Brixton’s Windmill scene, a South London’s alternative scene

of bands with “a sense of wild genre abandon” (Read), known for producing acts like black midi,

Squid, HMLTD and Shame. Soon after graduating, he composed the music for an interpretation

of Ubu Roi at the V&A Museum in London, which the Guardian described as “atonal, abrasive

and strident” (Fisher). In 2020, he released his debut album, Winterreise, which blends elements

of avant-pop and hyperpop. This album caught the eye of Yorgos Lanthimos, who described

Fendrix as a “creative soulmate", adding that he liked Jerskin’s work because of the variety of

sounds and feelings it explores: “[t]here’s humour, there’s melodrama. It’s playful, it doesn’t take

itself too seriously, but it can be heavy when it needs to be.” (Kermode).

Jerskin joined the project six months before principal photography began, after Tony

McNamara had completed the script and the production design brief was assembled. These

materials became the foundation of his work. In multiple interviews, Jerskin emphasized that he

chose not to compete with the film's ornate visuals, but rather focused on expressing the nuances

of the characters' emotional states. He composed 95% of the music before filming began, giving

him freedom to write without the typical functional constraints of film scoring. This also meant

that Lanthimos had access to the score during filming, using it on set to help the actors get into

character, highlighting the score's significance in shaping the world of Poor Things. Fendrix

drew inspiration from contemporary surgical documents during his research at the Wellcome

Collection library in London. Although he does state there is no direct reference to these surgical

documents, he does note that they “informed the score's more abstract and unconventional

sound” (“Jerskin Fendrix: Inspirations Behind His 'Poor Things' Score”). His process involved

recording each instrument separately to allow precise control over pitch and tone. Wind

instruments played a crucial role in the score, dictating the dominant texture of the score (ibid.).

He explored the contrast between breath-powered instruments like piccolo, flute, recorder, oboe,

bassoon and mechanically animated ones like pipe organs and uilleann bagpipes. This sonic

ambiguity – where machines "breathe" and human sounds are altered – mirrors Bella’s

composition as an experiment and a hybrid, constantly navigating the space between being a

living human and a mechanical creation. Jerskin’s compositional approach heavily focused on

sound design, utilizing extensive manipulation of recorded instruments and the creation of virtual

instruments that mimic human sounds.

4.3. Analysis

The film contains both non-diegetic and diegetic music, with the former used much more

frequently. When it does appear, diegetic music, e.g., Portuguese Dances I and II, oftentimes

takes on the qualities of non-diegetic music as it bridges the scenes, comments on the actions,

defines the time-space framework of the film, as well as serves as an interpreter of the

characters’ psychological states. The music cues titles used in this analysis are taken from the

soundtrack CD released by Milan Records. As Fendrix Jerskin wrote most of the music before

principal photography began, Lanthimos, during editing, used all the material Jerskin provided

according to the scenes, which is why the titles are mostly descriptive. The music cues can be

categorized into the following groups: character leitmotifs, location-based cues and cues

triggered by dialogue, titled after a specific motif of the scene. The soundtrack is an all-original

score composed by Fendrix Jerskin except for two pieces: O Quatro (Fado Menor) written,

composed and performed by the Portuguese artist Carminho and Les Yeux Bleus for voice and

piano, composed by Etienne Arnaud in 1846, with lyrics by Eugène de Lonlay, performed for the

film by the actress Suzy Bemba (Toinette). The end credits list the following instruments:

piccolo, flute, recorder, oboe, bassoon, cello, uilleann pipes and percussions, which leads to the

conclusion that the other instruments that can be seen in some scenes and heard in the score, are

virtual. The solo instruments listed above were recorded separately, with the addition of Jerskin

himself playing most of the violin sections. He decided on this approach because he: “wanted the

sonic presentation to not have any big, lush mattresses of reverb to fall back on, it needed to have

the equivalent of extremely close unbroken eye contact” (Danz). In other words, he wanted the

score to feel honest and raw, and worked very closely with Burns on the final mix to have

“placement of the music disarmingly present, inescapable and bare” (ibid.). The prerecorded

material gave him more freedom in applying various pitch shifting and pitch bending techniques

for which he used Logic Pro X, the digital audio workstation designed for music production and

audio editing. Alongside live audio, Jerskin made extensive use of MIDI synths, especially for

vocal parts. Another distinctive texture in the orchestration comes from the uilleann pipes, a

traditional Irish bagpipe. These pipes use a bellows, operated by the player’s arm, to inflate the

bag, allowing for more precise sound control and producing a softer tone compared to the louder

Scottish Highland pipes. These bagpipes are usually played solo or in céilí bands that accompany

dance parties and are mostly present in Irish folk and Celtic fusion music (Cocks Wiliam A.). In

the Lisbon dance scene, there is an oversized, custom built instrument resembling uilleann pipes.

Positioned behind this DIY creation is Jerskin, making a brief five-second cameo. The

instrument has notable modifications: its traditional wooden drones are swapped for brass ones,

the bass drone ends in a trombone-like bell, and Jerskin uses pedals to push air through the pipes.

These changes give the instrument a louder, more resonant, grainier tone, with a tuba-like

underline what is happening in the scene but is rather used “in a way that either totally subverts

the emotion of the scene or amplifies it to this unnecessary kind of melodrama” (“Searchlight

Picture Production Notes”). With Bella as the focalizer, the soundtrack plays a crucial role in

answering the question: "How does Bella feel?" – capturing both her internal emotional states

and how the external world reacts to her. Drawing from Stan Link’s exploration of sound and

vision in film, the soundtrack not only supports the visuals but also "becomes the topic of the

soundtrack's characterization of screen activity" (Link 76). This allows the film to embody

Bella’s experiences, translating her emotions and physicality into sound. For example, as Bella

explores her body or undergoes moments of awakening, the score mirrors these internal

processes, making the act of discovery both auditory and visual. This concept of embodiment

through sound aligns with Link’s idea that “the film body’s contact with its world leaves traces

that translate as contact with our own world” (Link 78). The score thereby helps the audience

feel Bella’s physical experiences and is a medium that reflects her growing autonomy with all its

horrors, sorrow, awe and wonder. Simultaneously, the soundtrack highlights how other characters

are at times frustrated, or out of sync with Bella, failing to grasp her inner states and desires. In

this way, the score bridges Bella’s internal journey with the external perceptions of her,

embodying her emotional and physical presence through sound. This connection is further

explored in the detailed analysis presented in the table below.

SCENE/ SEQUENCE

DURATION

SOUND TRACK

ANALYSIS

Opening credits

00:00:48-

00:01:18

Natural sound / air:

deep, rustling sounds

of the wind howling.8

The combination of deep rustling wind sounds, and symbolic imagery embroidered

on the duvet sets a surreal, foreboding tone, foreshadowing key narrative events

and motifs.

Victoria commits

suicide by throwing

herself off the bridge.

00:01:18-

00:01:51

Non-diegetic music:

Victoria. Natural

sounds / air: sounds of

the wind continue

accentuated by deep,

bass heavy rustling.

All elements work together to evoke anxiety and horror in the viewer. The woman’s

dress signals her upper-class status, while the colour palette suggests a fantastical

world from the outset.

The main theme of Victoria (Bb harmonic minor; F – Bb – E –Db) contains a

tritone, signalling tension and danger right from the start. During the second

statement of the theme, the solo violin is joined by the winds, with an out-of-tune

tone and pulsing rhythm which heightens the sense of urgency.

Victoria’s theme reappears later in the soundtrack, specifically in Reanimation,

Bella and Duncan and Alfie and Victoria, where it is reorchestrated. This

recurrence reinforces the emotional weight of her plunge, transforming it from a

singular event into a recurring motif that echoes through the narrative. The varied

orchestration and pitch manipulation reflect shifts in perspective, while still

anchoring the theme to its original associations with danger and trauma,

maintaining its unsettling presence within the film's storyline.

POOR THINGS

00:01:52-

00:01:58

Human sounds / body:

gooey, sticky sound,

heartbeat

By presenting bodily sounds like the heartbeat against the title sequence’s iris-like

visuals, the film immediately introduces its central themes. The spatialized sound

design expands the world, giving it a tangible human-centred depth that draws the

viewer into the corporeal, unsettling nature of the story. In other words, the sound

design announces that the whole film will be from Bella’s point of view.

Bella and Baxter in

Baxter’s house.

00:01:59-

00:03:20

Quiet and silence /

subjective: deep, warm

hum, like on an old

gramophone. Diegetic

Despite the shift from colour to B&W film, the muted tones and flat spatial

composition in the shots featuring Victoria, contrasted with the subsequent bright,

sunlit scenes of Bella, underscore her childlike innocence. The dissonance between

the sound of discordant piano clusters and the warm hum suggests a world at odds

8 Categorization of sound effects taken from David Sonnenschein’s Sound Design. See pp. 131-145

sounds: cultural

sounds / music: Bella

playing the piano

hitting clusters and

random notes.; human

sounds / body: heavy

footsteps, voice

with itself, mirroring Bella’s own unconventional rebirth. The fisheye lens

emphasizes her small stature and her perspective as a ‘newborn’ in this peculiar

environment. Although the setting seems normal, the grown woman’s childlike

behaviour creates an unsettling contrast. This clash between the ordinary

environment and her incongruent actions creates an eerie atmosphere, highlighting

the dissonance between appearance and behaviour.

Bella and Baxter dining

together.

00:03:20-

00:04:50

Non-diegetic music:

Bella. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / domestic

environment: cutlery,

quiet and silence /

subjective: off-screen

sounds of dogs

barking; Human

sounds / subjective:

chewing, spitting,

breathing, burping,

screaming, clapping,

kissing, quacking,

footsteps; Mechanical

sounds: glass, natural

or body sounds

representing

mechanical sounds:

bubbling of Baxter’s

that replaces his

digestive system;

natural sounds /

animals: bark-quack.

Bella’s awkward physicality and childlike behaviour are enhanced through both

visual and auditory cues. The diegetic irregular rhythm of cutlery clinking and the

pulsating pizzicato strings in Bella’s theme reflect her lack of coordination. The

absence of dialogue stresses the raw, instinctual bond she has with her environment.

As Bella finally speaks her first words, triggered by Baxter departure, Bella’s theme

reaches a dramatic peak with a full orchestral arrangement, underscoring the

emotional significance of her moment of expression, leaning into the score’s

melodramatic quality.

Bella’s leitmotif. Pitch-bended thirds. (F – Gb– Ab – G♮ – Bbb – Ab). The piece

follows an ABA’B’ form. Bella is set in a relative key to Victoria, linking the two

characters and symbolizing Bella’s character development while foreshadowing

key moments in the narrative. It is set in 4/4 time with a lento tempo. Orchestration:

harp with manipulated pitch for the first three parts (ABA’); strings and woodwind

instruments for part B’. The B’ section has a more Romantic quality due to the

legato articulation of the Bb tonic chord, which includes a passing tone C leading

to the F minor chord.

Baxter giving a lecture

00:04:51-

00:06:00

Dialogue. human

sounds / body: sighs,

sticky, visceral sounds

of organs.

Baxter’s voice is low, but his intonation fluctuates due to his accent and the melodic

quality with which Defoe delivers the lines.9 The juxtaposition of surgical sounds

with Baxter’s detached intellectualism heightens the grotesque and reinforces his

role as a scientist obsessed with pushing boundaries.10

Baxter: “A pile of organs without the spark of self from a brain, or the pump of

blood from a heart is just a butcher’s tray for a Sunday lunch.” His comparison of a

body without consciousness or emotion to a “butcher’s tray” underscores film’s

exploration of identity beyond pure physical form.

Max and Baxter

walking to Baxter’s

house.

00:06:00-

00:07:06

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: human sounds

/ body: footsteps;

natural sounds /

animals: clip-clop of

horse’s hooves;

mechanical sounds /

transportation:

horse-driven cab.

Despite the wide-angle bird's-eye composition of the shot, the dialogue feels

unusually intimate, almost as if it is being narrated rather than directly spoken by

the characters. This use of spatialization, with the ‘closeness’ of the dialogue

combined with an echo, gives the impression that the voices are not emanating

from their physical locations, enhancing the sense of overhearing, i.e., enhancing

the effect of the panopticon.

Baxter introduces Max

to Bella and asks for

help with his “project”.

00:07:07-

00:08:10

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Wee, cultural sounds /

domestic sounds:

plates breaking;

human sounds / body:

screaming, grunting,

peeing

The non-diegetic music could best be described with Baxter’s line: “Her mental age

and her body are not quite synchronized.” as it sounds as if a child is playing an

instrument, tentative, uncoordinated, lacking smoothness, marked by uneven timing

and dissonances, reflecting the early stages of learning. Meanwhile, the diegetic

sounds of plates breaking, along with screams and grunts, fill the space when the

music briefly pauses, keeping the pace of the scene dictated by non-diegetic music.

Together, the non-diegetic and diegetic sounds create a continuous flow, mirroring

Bella’s focused attention and her exploratory, childlike behaviour. Bella’s

excitement and lack of shame as she yells “Wee! Wee!” and urinates on the floor

are underscored by a joyful recorder and oboe passage.

10 Willem Dafoe discusses the characterization of his role in Poor Things, clarifying that referring to his character as a "scientist" is an oversimplification. He notes that while there are elements

reminiscent of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, his character is more complex, reflecting a personal and emotional sacrifice to science rather than being a straightforward scientist. Dafoe explains, “It’s sort

of a ‘Frankenstein’ story, but his father was a scientist, and he’s been experimented on. He himself is sort of the monster, but he believes in science because he’s basically sacrificed his life for it, thanks

to his father.” (The Wrap, Pond).

9 In an interview with The Wrap, Willem Defoe mentioned he drew inspiration from Alasdair Gray's interviews for his portrayal of the character: “I think the Godwin Baxter character had some elements

of him in it.” (Pond)

Max’s remark upon first meeting Bella, “What a very pretty retard”, sets the tone

for his relationship with her, but also mirrors the fascination other male characters

have with her beauty and oddness.

Wee is set in E major and modulates to Ab major. The piece follows an ABCB’C’

form. It is set in 2/4 time with a moderato tempo. As it accompanies the learning

montage, and Bella’s amazement as she encounters things for the first time, it could

also be called the Discovery theme. Orchestration: Pitch manipulated harp and

woodwinds. A part: arpeggiated harp in irregular rhythm with changing

accentuations; B: harp cont., woodwinds passage; C: strings and woodwinds with

various articulations staccato, portato, and pizzicato. The B’ part features pizzicato

harp under two counterpointing violins. The final C part replicates the staccato

articulation from the previous C part, but the melody is in the strings instead of

woodwinds.

Montage of Bella

learning things: Bella

wakes up, Max and

Bella eat breakfast,

Bella, Baxter, Bella

learns about Baxter’s

work, Bella learns how

to ride a bicycle, Bella

feeds the hybrid

animals

00:08:10-

00:10:58

Dialogue. Voiceover.

Non-diegetic music:

Wee. Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds /

domestic environment:

bedroom, curtains,

sheets, soft fabrics,

clanking; natural

sounds / animals: cock

barking, hybrid

animals; human

sounds / body:

spitting, coughing,

squishing, gasps,

footsteps

Once again, non-diegetic music is in sync with diegetic sounds, e.g., the opening

harp arpeggio follows Ms. Prim’s movements when she opens the curtains to wake

Bella up.

Wee continues. The theme is in strings, alternating between solo staccato, repeated

pizzicato, portato tutti. Changes in articulation reflect Bella’s awkwardness and

fragmented understanding of the world. Sharper staccatos are in sync with her

abrupt movements, e.g. when she spits out kippers because she doesn’t like them or

when she points at Max to ask him if he likes kippers. The legato strings and

glockenspiel initially lend a playful tone to Bella’s interaction with the corpses in

Baxter’s lab. However, as the scene progresses, the strings become higher pitched,

taking on a squeakier quality. Meanwhile, the metallic percussion sharpens in

intensity, building tension and priming the viewer for the unsettling moment when

Bella stabs a corpse’s eye with a scalpel. Wee ends when this learning montage

shifts from looking at Bella to Max and Baxter talking about Bella.

Max asks Baxter about

Bella’s origin, a scene

which is contrasted by

Bella and Baxter’s

00:10:58-

00:14:00

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: quiet and

silence / subjective:

room tone: sounds like

No non-diegetic music during bedtime conversation with Baxter, contrasting with

earlier chaotic energy to anchor the emotional tone. Spatialization: room sounds

like a finger being dragged around a metal bowl, adds to the slightly

disorienting effect of unsteady curiosity.

conversation before

bedtime when Baxter

tells her the made-up

story about her parents’

death.

a finger being dragged

around a metal bowl;

Bella goes to the roof.

Bella protests. Bella,

Max and Baxter go

outside.

00:14:01-

00:20:07

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella and Max,

Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds /

religious ceremonies:

church bells in the

distance; natural

sounds / air: wind, /

animals: birds

chirping, horses, frog

crickets, moist,

squishy sound of Bella

crushing the frog;

human sounds / body:

clapping; children

laughing, screaming;

mechanical sounds /

land transportation:

The steam engine that

has the same timbre

and rhythm as a horse

puffing / demolition:

brick shattering, glass

shattering,

The next sequence transitions to an outdoor setting with Bella and Max, where the

sound design plays a significant role. The blend of ambient noises and mechanical

sounds reflect both Bella's perception of the outside world, while at the same time

showcasing and satirizing Baxter’s odd, “perfectly safe and entertaining world [he

created] for Bella”. This sequence also conveys Bella’s growing frustration,

climaxing with her emotional outburst before God chloroforms her. The

soundscape enhances her frustration and the feeling of being trapped, underscoring

her defiance and her inability to grasp societal norms.

Bella and Max is set in B major. Main theme: B – C#↑ – F#↓, B – C#↑– F# ↑, two

whining voices accompanied by chime-like percussion in rubato tempo. Functions

as almost a Puppy Love theme symbolizing warmth and comfort. Church bells

ringing in the distance hint at Max and Bella’s engagement. Non-diegetic music

appears only during scenes Bella finds enjoyable. Non-diegetic music stops to give

space for dialogue and to highlight the emotional intensity of specific interactions,

e.g. during the scene in which Bella protests asking to go outside for the first time.

Non-diegetic music returns as Bella throws herself on the ground making an angel

in a bed of leaves.

Max saying “mother of God” triggers the next sequence.

Bella is forced back

inside. Max snoops

around Baxter’s office

00:20:08-

00:21:50

Non-diegetic music:

Mother of God

The undressing scene uses a minimalist approach, with only non-diegetic music

accentuating the gravity of the scene. The slow-motion montage of Bella being

undressed emphasizes both Bella’s and the viewer’s growing awareness of her

physicality, while the absence of music during Max’s exploration of Baxter’s office

shifts the focus entirely onto the narrative tension.

Mother of God. Pitched down uilleann pipes or bassoon. C minor. Deep, breathy,

tardy theme sporadically counterpointed by the Ab – Ab – G motif, made from the

main theme’s rhythm and the 1-1-2 movement. Slow motion further amplifies the

non-diegetic music’ character.

Narrative flashback of

Victoria’s suicide and

reanimation. Baxter

telling Max about

Victoria

00:21:50-

00:24:20

Dialogue. Voiceover.

Non-diegetic music:

Victoria. Reanimation.

The sudden shifts from B&W to colour during this montage amplify the shock and

tension as Baxter’s voiceover recounts Victoria’s story to Max, further amplified by

the fish-eye lens shots. The abrupt colour change enhances the dramatic impact of

Baxter’s actions, making the revelation a pivotal moment for both Max and the

viewer.

The tension and horror of the Victoria segment crescendos, abruptly stopping to

highlight Baxter’s words, resuming with Reanimation, a piece that shares the same

main theme but is orchestrated in a more theatrical and rich manner. In

Reanimation, the main theme transitions Victoria’s strings, previously dominant, to

wind instruments, with timpani beats adding dramatic emphasis. The manipulated

organ notes, resembling a flatline, enhance the eerie and unsettling mood, while an

artificial, child-like voice marks Reanimation’s second melodic material, further

adding to the scene’s disquieting tone.

Bella discovers her

sexuality. Angry,

frustrated Bella. Baxter

explains the machine

that replaces his

digestive system.

Montage of narrative

flashbacks that

intercept the scene of

Baxter proposing Max

and Bella marry.

00:24:21-

00:31:37

Dialogue. Human

sounds / body: shallow

breaths, moans, eating,

Baxter’s burp-scream,

licking; cultural

sounds / domestic

environment /

bedroom: sheet

ruffling, furniture

creaking; natural or

body sounds

representing

Bella’s sexual awakening is reflected in the absence of music during key moments,

heightening the tension through natural sounds. The contrast between Bella's

playful self-discovery and the shaming she faces at the dinner table highlights Max

and Baxter's awkwardness to this aspect of her development. Max struggles

because of his romantic feelings, while Baxter, acting as a parental figure,

reprimands her. The juxtaposition lies not only in their reprimands, but also in the

conversation that follows. While Bella is thrilled with her newfound abilities, they

discuss topics like digestive juices and marriage as a transactional contract, creating

comedic contrast.

mechanical sounds:

bubbling of Baxter’s

machine that replaces

his digestive system

Max asks Bella to

marry him.11

Dialogue. Voiceover.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella and Max.

Human sounds / body:

kissing Hybrid

animals. / Ominous

horn, hollow.

Bella and Max highlights the awkwardness of their evolving relationship. Max,

seeking Bella's hand in marriage, is met with her assertive and unconventional

response, “Let us touch each other’s genital pieces.” Startled by her directness, Max

retreats.

The non-diegetic music ceases, creating a pause that is accentuated by a vignetted

fisheye lens shot of Bella, locked in her room. This visual choice symbolizes her

growing frustration with being confined to a controlled environment.

Duncan Wedderburn,

lawyer, comes to

Baxter’s house.

Sneakily goes up to

Bella’s room.

00:31:38-

00:38:11

Dialogue. Human

sounds / voice: Baxter

reading the agreement

in a funny, mumbling

voice, Bella’s laughter,

Bella blowing bubbles

/ body: clapping,

sticky sounds of

Baxter cutting up a

human brain; natural

sounds / animals:

off-screen sounds of

birds chirping, owls;

cultural sounds / city

environment:

fireworks; quiet and

silence / room tone:

low hollow hum.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella and Duncan.

The relationship between Bella and Duncan is introduced through Bella and

Duncan, a piece that shares its theme with Victoria and Reanimation. Instead of the

legato violins of Victoria, the thematic material is carried out by the out-of-tune,

sharper harp pizzicatos and chromatic additions (Eb – E♮ – Db) which mirror

Duncan’s actions, as he trips climbing the stairs to Bella's room. The wobbly bass

and reverb of a smaller gong, along with sporadic metallic percussion, track

Duncan’s movements, adding to the comedic effect. As he opens the wrong door,

the diminished chord underscores his misstep. The lack of accompanying music

when Bella laughs, replaced by the sound of bubbles popping, suggests that Duncan

might not be entirely trustworthy. This is reinforced by the plucked, out-of-tune

diminished chords accompanying Bella’s disturbing smile, adding a layer of unease

to their interaction.

Duncan wins Bella over by criticizing the constraints of polite society, claiming

“they kill one’s soul”. The fireworks symbolize Bella's sense of adventure and

liberation with Duncan, reflecting the thrill of her newfound independence despite

the underlying risks and uncertainty. Johnnie Burn made the sound of fireworks by

layering the sound of human voices (Muirhead 3:15-3:40)

11 The dotted line indicates a continuation of music material from one scene into another.

Bella packs to leave

with Duncan. Max and

Baxter mourn Bella’s

leave.

00:38:12-

00:41:08

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Goodbye Later Dove;

Natural sounds /

animals:

Pig-hen

Goodbye Later Dove. G major, two high-pitched violins playing in octaves. The

main theme is rhythmically repetitive with a gradually ascending melody, but the

progression is interrupted by an off-tune descending glissando that sounds like

wailing, adding a dissonant and mournful twist.

Bella’s words, “Be happy as two doves on a branch”, introduce the dove motif,

symbolizing her and Max’s relationship, but more so Max. Her later line,

“Goodbye, later dove,” after she chloroforms Max, underlines the reversal of

typical gender roles, as Max takes on the qualities of a docile Victorian wife. The

dove reappears in the following scene when one flies into Duncan and Bella’s

Lisbon apartment, subtly reminding the viewer that Max is waiting for her at home.

Lisbon. Bella and

Duncan have sex and

later go to the bar, drink

champagne and eat

oysters.

00:41:09

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music: I

Just Hope She’s

Alright. Diegetic

sounds: human sounds

/ body: moans, chatter,

shallow breaths,

eating, drinking;

cultural sounds /

domestic environment

/ bedroom: bed

creaking; mechanical

sounds / kitchen tools:

cutting, breaking;

cultural sounds / city

environment: bar

chatter

First time primary narrative is presented in colour, as it transitions from B&W to

Ektachrome colour reversal film.12 I Just Hope She’s Alright modulates from C

minor – Ab major – Db minor. Polyphonic synthesised vocals and breaths with

arpeggiated strings as the base. High vocals and the sounds of bed squeaking mirror

Bella’s moans in registers and rhythmic movement.

Once they transition to the hotel bar, there’s no music, only the sounds of chatter

and eating as Duncan and Bella share oysters. The absence of music underscores

Duncan’s boastful dialogue about his womanizing lifestyle. Duncan introduces

Bella to indulgence, best captured in his metaphor about life, it must be “inhaled

with gusto”, not savoured daintily. This serves as a reflection of Duncan’s

philosophy of living life without restraint, contrasting Bella’s previous sheltered

experiences. However, this will prove ironic as Duncan’s own limitations are

presented later in the story.

LISBON

0:42:16-

0:42:20

Natural sounds / air:

wind whistling / water

+ maritime

Lisbon title on a collage of Bella riding a deep-sea fish superimposed on an image

of smoke and flowers announces the upcoming boat sequence.

12 Just as Dorothy, in Victor Fleming’s The Wizard of Oz (1939), opens her front door and steps into Technicolor, Bella’s departure from Baxter’s house is marked

by a shift to Ektachrome film.

environment / boat:

muffled, resonant,

guttural sounds like

inside a boat hull;

actually, human

sounds / body:

heartbeat used for the

sound of the boat

Bella and Duncan

eating sweet tarts.

“Furious jumping”

montage.

0:42:20-

0:44:30

Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds / city

environment:

(off-screen) street

noises, chatter /

domestic environment:

thumping, creaking;

non-diegetic music: I

Just Hope She’s

Alright; human sounds

/ voice: heavy

breathing, moans, loud

snoring / body:

shakers as skin

rubbing + natural

sounds / animals:

dove’s wings flapping

Once again, I Just Hope She’s Alright soundtrack to Duncan and Bella’s “furious

jumping”.

The sound design humorously uses shakers to mimic skin rubbing, paired with the

sound of bird wings flapping, as a dove fly into the room, reinforcing the

Max-related motif.

After Duncan boasts about his prowess, Bella asks to continue, but he is not able to.

Bella’s exploration of male vulnerability contrasts with Duncan’s caution against

falling in love with him, adding tension and irony to their dynamic.

Bella explores Lisbon

on her own.

0:44:30-

0: 49:21

Off-screen voices.

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Lisbon. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds /

environmental sounds:

street noise;

Lisbon is set in Db major – more of an ambient piece. Orchestration: Bubbly, glassy

xylophone and sparkly, chime-like percussion, warp sounds, fluttering flute, harp,

strings, synthetic warp sounds, and pitch-bended brass that sounds like a foghorn.

The music and soundscape mirror Bella's tentative exploration of Lisbon, light and

dainty like her baby steps. As she becomes overwhelmed, the music shifts to a

heavier, chaotic tone, amplifying her unease. The light, fluttering flute, and the

sound of her leather boots reflect her growing motor skills – still stiff, but more

confident.

Mechanical sounds /

transportation: boat

foghorn, (off-screen)

tram whistle

Bella stops in her

tracks, mesmerized by

a woman singing and

playing a fado song. As

she continues exploring

the city, she sees a

couple fighting,

overwhelmed by all the

new sights, she throws

up. Duncan is angry

because Bella left the

room without him.

Dialogue. Diegetic

music: O Quatro. First

appears without a

visible source, soon

becomes

de-acousmatized;13

cultural sounds / city

environment + human

sounds / voice: couple

fighting, deep boat

horn, breaking,

yelling, grunting,

crashing, synthetic

sounds, tram, throwing

up, submarine / boat

sounds

Hearing O Quatro, Bella stops, captivated by the fado music's sorrow and longing.

The diegetic music fades to off-screen, background ambiance as she is drawn to a

couple quarrelling. A brassy dissonant chord heightens the tension and danger. As

Bella moves through the streets, Lisbon briefly returns, but now with synth voices

and irregular fluttering sounds, expressing her emotional overwhelm. Non-diegetic

warped sounds during off-screen yelling intensifies Bella’s disoriented state.

Bella pauses at a panoramic view of the city. Off-screen sound of a tram bell rings

out, like a tram coming to a halt. Non-diegetic glockenspiel crescendo is abruptly

cut off as she vomits, followed by a deep hum, like the sound inside a ship’s hull.

Non-diegetic, synthetic tones echo Bella’s inner turmoil.

Bella: “Then I hear it. A tram.” Duncan turns to the window. Synchronization of the

off-screen sound of a tram bell just as Bella talks about the tram, describing her

adventures to Duncan. The matching off-screen sound with Bella’s narration blurs

the boundaries between the diegetic and non-diegetic elements of a scene. It creates

a seamless connection between Bella’s internal world and her environment., i.e.,

subtly aligns her subjective experience with the physical space, underlining the

intensity of her impressions.

13 Acousmêtre: a type of voice-character unique to cinema that, in many film narratives, gains an aura of mystery and power by being heard without being seen; a

portmanteau word coined by Chion based on two French words, acousmatique (acousmatic, see ch. 4) and être (being). See Chion, La Voix au cinema, 25-33. For

visualized, de-acousmatized sound, see Chion, Audio-vision 72,130-31.

Bella and Duncan are

having dinner with

Duncan’s friends.

0:49:22-

Dialogue. Diegetic

music: Portuguese

Dance I. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / city

environment: chatter;

clanking; Human

sounds / voice: eating,

spitting, drinking

Portuguese Dance I. C major – “A minor” – C major. Rubato tempo: sounds like a

drunk band playing at the end of a party. ABA. Orchestration: Harmonica and a

guitar. In the scene featuring Duncan and Bella dining with Duncan’s friends, the

Portuguese music establishes the cultural setting, however, its disjointed and

off-key performance adds an ironic twist, contrasting with the pompous atmosphere

and subverting the expected sophistication. Bella’s comments and her

confrontational dialogue, along with her actions – slapping Duncan, kissing him,

and making a fool of him at the table – further highlight the clownishness of

Duncan’s actions and the tension between them.

Sulky, pathetic Max

and Baxter waiting for

Bella.

0:51:28-

0:52:06

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds:

mechanical sounds /

machinery: glass,

natural or body sounds

representing

mechanical sounds:

bubbling of Baxter’s

digestive system;

human sounds/voice:

Baxter’s

bubble-scream.

The lack of music heightens the sense of stagnation and despair as the characters

await Bella’s return.

Bella getting blackout

drunk. A lady

recognizes her as

Victoria.

0:52:07-

0:53:52

Dialogue. Diegetic

Sounds: human sounds

/ body: footsteps,

voice: offscreen

yelling, mouth burn

heaving, gulping;

cultural sounds / city

environment: bar

sounds, glass clanking;

quiet and silence /

subjective: hollow

hum, wind howling

The intense room tone, featuring a hollow, wind-like hum, combines with

off-screen street noises to create a crescendo, highlighted by a loud bang of

clinking glass and the dragging sound of wooden furniture. This sound design

immerses the viewer in Bella’s intoxicated state and conveys the abrupt headache

and shock she experiences upon waking up after drinking.

that sounds like an owl

hooting

Bella and Duncan have

dinner, dance, quarrel

and get into a fight.

0:53:53-

0:57:02

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Portuguese Dance II.

Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds / city

environment:

restaurant buzz and

chatter; human sounds

/ body: hitting,

thumping,

Bella expresses frustration with Duncan, revealing her anger at his possessiveness,

while Duncan admits he’s become the typical example of a controlling lover he

despises. As Duncan is saying: “I have become the very things I hate, a grasping

succubus of a lover”, the restaurant’s ensemble starts playing Portuguese Dance II.

Portuguese Dance II is set in C major. Orchestration: DIY uillean pipes,

harmonica, chimes, timpani, guitar, harmonica. Opens with rhythmic clusters,

establishing a lively and driving pulse. The A part features repeated single tones

that gradually develop, while the second theme introduces a more lyrical, fair-like

melody. The triple meter underscores the piece’s character as a dance, giving it a

structured and rhythmic flow typical of traditional folk dances. The piece is

ambiguous, aggressive clusters and rhythm reference Bella’s freedom and lack of

inhibitions, while the melody in B part mocks Duncan.

Bella again becomes mesmerised by the music. Intuitively starts dancing freely to

it. By reducing the prominence of diegetic sounds, the diegetic music is

foregrounded, acquiring a non-diegetic music-like quality.

The wide lens and quick pan shots, along with the handheld shot, capture the action

and chaos. Bella’s wild, intuitive and shameless dancing capture the essence of her

character. Duncan’s jealousy and frustration culminate in a violent confrontation

sparked by an old man’s attention towards Bella, leading to a series of fights. This

scene marks the beginning of the end of their relationship.

Duncan and Bella after

the dance.

0:57:03-

0:59:05

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: human sounds

/ body: slamming,

tapping, footsteps /

voice: weeping,

crying; cultural sounds

/ city environment:

offscreen phone

Duncan becomes enraged upon hearing that another man touched Bella. Bella,

reasoning like a scientist but with unconventional logic, fails to understand his

jealousy. She remarks on Duncan’s confusing behaviour as he aggressively hits his

head against the bar and starts crying. Duncan's violent reaction underscores his

struggle to cope with Bella’s unconventional perspective and his own insecurities.

ringing, street noise,

echo of footsteps

Baxter faints during his

lecture.

00:59:06-

01:00:24

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / professions:

scalpel; human sounds

/ body: thud / voice:

gasps; Quiet and

silence / subjective:

extremely low

thudding hum, room

echoes

Baxter fainting underscores the dissonance between his professional persona and

his emotional vulnerability. His declaration, "I am a man of science," becomes

ironically humorous as his voice cracks, revealing the deep conflict between his

rational ideals and his uncontrollable emotions. This moment highlights the

limitations and inherent contradictions of his scientific worldview when confronted

with genuine human experience. Baxter's effort to suppress his emotions collapses

as he directly suggests finding a new body to reanimate, exposing his desperation to

escape his distress.

Duncan packs Bella up

in a suitcase.

01:00:25-

01:01:17

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Goodbye Later Dove

Goodbye Later Dove returns, but now with a more sinister tone as Duncan prepares

to deceive Bella. The Psycho-like violins and pause-filled phrases reflect Bella's

growing distrust. The tension and anxiety build, again accentuated using the

fish-eye lens, as Bella begins to realize the gravity of the situation.

Duncan and Bella in

their boat suite.

01:01:18-

01:04:48

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Goodbye Later Dove;

diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds /

maritime environment:

chains, wood creaking,

foghorn, hull, waves,

growling, wind

howling; natural

sounds / animals:

seagulls; warning

signals: boat sirens in

the distance

When Bella learns that Duncan has taken her on a boat without her knowledge, she

runs upset to the bathroom. Her anxiety is underlined through minimal sound

design with only the sound of seagulls, foghorn and a low thumping of the waves

against the hull. Gazing through the window at the sea, Bella repeats the words:

“Blue, blue, blue”. As Bella re-enters the room, the shot frames her between two

contrasting colour palettes: the warm, dimmed lighting and the cold, blue hues of

the vast ocean visible through the glass windows. The dark blue colour palette

connects Bella to Victoria, her mother, by referencing the opening scene. Beginning

of the film shows Victoria with her back to the camera, draped in a royal blue gown

contrasted by her jet-black hair against dark grey clouds, which appear to close in

on her as she prepares to plunge into the river. Although the viewer, at this point,

does not know the reason Victoria committed suicide (because of the General’s

possessiveness and cruelty), through a narrative flashback told by Baxter earlier in

the film, the connection between Victoria as Bella’s mother has been established.

For this reason, the shot establishes a visual contact zone between Bella and

Victoria. This visual contact zone highlights the contrast between Bella’s curiosity

and Victoria’s melancholy, emphasizing Bella’s gradual loss of innocence as she

faces her sense of entrapment. Her frustration with Duncan, which began in Lisbon,

now solidifies as she fully realizes his weakness in wanting to love her through

possession. By internalizing this, she does gain a greater sense of autonomy but

also finds herself more aligned with Victoria. This juxtaposition that accentuates

feelings of entrapment due to societal norms and of being the Other’s object of

desire, presents Bella as a panoptic spectacle, caught between her own gaze and

that of the observer, both the Other’s and the viewers’. This positioning, though

visually represented in this scene, is a central theme throughout the film. Bella’s

nonconformity to expected female behaviour places her in a dual role, embodying

both the Other and Eve (see ch. “The Palimpsestous Intertextuality of Poor

Things”)

The scene cuts from a vignetted lens shot of Bella sitting depressed in a bathtub to a

futuristic boat emitting green, toxic smoke against a dark, stormy sky. The sound

design amplifies the boat's low, resonant ocean-like hum, while the creaking floor

and eerie roars evoke the vast emptiness and menace of the ship.14 As Bella steps

onto the deck, she witnesses a man twisting a seagull’s neck, with howling wind

and thudding sounds intensifying the atmosphere.

THE SHIP

01:04:50-

01:04:55

Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds /

maritime environment

/ warning signal:

ominous foghorn,

natural sounds: wind

Collage of Bella’s leaping from the tip of a moving hand superimposed onto

moving blood cells under microscope. The leap reinforces her connection to

Victoria, as it echoes Victoria’s suicide.

Bella is angry at

Duncan. Meets Martha

and Astley. Duncan

proposes.

01:04:56-

01:09:35

Dialogue. Diegetic

music: offscreen

classical music.

dialogue

foregrounded. More

Again, Bella is reasoning like a scientist. When Duncan professes his love to her,

Bella answers with a question: “How to judge being in love empirically?”.

As Bella speaks about societal norms, the music shifts to a more intense and

layered arrangement, emphasizing the tension. Astley’s remark, “Polites of society

will kill you,” contrasts with Duncan’s need for approval, highlighting his struggle

14 Johnnie Burn used the sound of human heartbeat for the low humming sound of the ship (Muirhead, Timothy, host. “Poor Things with Johnnie Burn”, Tone

Benders Sound Design Podcast¸episode 239, Sound Ideas, 13 December 2023, https://tonebenderspodcast.com/239-poor-things-with-johnnie-burn/).

like metal or wind

silently howling.

with control and politeness. Duncan proposes as he sees he is losing control over

Bella. Learns she is already engaged to Max.

Felicity, Baxter’s

second experiment

01:09:36-

01:10:15

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: natural sounds

/ animals: birds, air:

leaves, nature; human

sounds / voice: crying,

ball hitting Felicity

The introduction of Felicity contrasts with Bella's rapid development, emphasizing

Bella’s uniqueness. Not all of Baxter's creations progress the same way, suggesting

that outcomes aren't solely determined by the creator.

Bella learns philosophy

with Martha and

Astley.

01:10:16-

01:12:11

Dialogue. Diegetic

sound: cultural sounds

/ maritime

environment; natural

sounds: wind

Bella critiques Emerson's philosophy on self-improvement for ignoring women,

reflecting her growing awareness of the limitations imposed on her gender. Her

curiosity drives her to seek guidance on self-improvement, yet she questions the

philosophical frameworks that exclude women from such aspirations. Astley

dismisses the pursuit of improvement as futile, arguing that society cannot escape

its cruel nature. Bella, however, embraces the idea of continuous advancement but

questions its value. Bella approaches the concept of improvement with a childlike

simplicity – if she seeks growth, others must too. This assumption highlights her

innocence – or perhaps reflects a deeper cynicism – since there isn’t a singular

definition of "improvement" (e.g. linear, Western idea of progress vs non-linear). It

leaves space for interpretation, questioning societal ideals and what it truly means

to advance.

Duncan’s comment, “You’re always reading now Bella. You’re losing some of your

adorable way of speaking.” infantilizes Bella, dismissing her intellectual growth as

a loss of her “adorable” charm, reflecting his resistance to her development and

desire to maintain her in a subordinate role.

Duncan gambling and

drinking.

01:12:12-

01:12:30

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds: casino buzz

Duncan: “Busy losing heavily”; Duncan drinks and gambles to cope with the fact

Bella has “outgrown” him.

Duncan tries to throw

Martha overboard.

01:12:31-

01:14:43

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music.

Duncan and Martha.

Diegetic sounds:

Duncan and Martha. F altered Lydian. Orchestration. Synth choir, synth organ,

synth strings, pitch-bended clarinet, timpani. The music sounds theatrical, sacral

with portato voices adding a touch of irony.

human sounds / voice:

laughter, / body: neck

cracking.

Again, Duncan making a fool out of himself.

Bella goes to Astley’s

room

01:14:44-

01:16:20

Dialogue. Arabic

non-diegetic music

announces Alexandria

Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds /

maritime environment:

bells, foghorn, natural

sounds / water: waves

offscreen sounds of

crickets

Bella's obsession with self-improvement is fuelled by her inability to accept her

own feelings. Astley exposes her to cruelty, horror, and societal inequalities,

challenging her idealized view of constant progress.

Futuristic version of Alexandria. Sun-scorched orange palette.

ALEXANDRIA

01:16:20-

01:16:25

Non-diegetic music:

Alexandria

Title Alexandria superimposed on an image of Bella floating on a droplet

surrounded by a sea of smoke.

Only the introductory part of Alexandria. Synthetized vocals that sound haunted or

as if in pain, accompanied by tremolo strings.

Astley and Bella sitting

in a caffe. Bella sees

the slum-poor. Deeply

distressed by their dire

conditions, she tries to

give them money.

01:16:26-

01:22:32

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / city

environment: bells,

chatter, human sounds

/ voice: off-screen

sound of yelling,

children screaming in

pain,

When Bella looks down, seeing the slum poor for the first time, Alexandria

continues, culminating as Bella runs down the stairs. Harry tries to stop Bella, so

she bites his hand. Non-diegetic music mirrors Bella’s state.

Alexandria is set in C-minor. Orchestration: pitch-manipulated strings that sound

like voices in agony, synth organ, uilleann pipes, various percussion.

Bella runs back to the ship and finds Duncan passed out drunk on bed with money

bills scattered around him. She collects the money, naïvely giving it to the ship

crew to pass onto the slum poor. When Duncan wakes up, he learns Bella took the

money, and that they have not actually been robbed. Without means to pay for their

stay, the ship Captain informs them that they must get off at the next stop.

Baxter reads Bella’s

letter

01:22:32-

01:23:01

Diegetic sounds:

natural sounds /

Bella reverts to an earlier cognitive stage because of the shock in Alexandria, which

is evidenced by her unintelligible handwriting.

animals: frogs, air:

wind howling

Back on ship, Astley

and Bella stroll the

deck.

01:23:02-

01:24:11

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella; natural sounds /

air: wind blowing

Bella bids farewell to Harry, thanking him for exposing her to the world's cruelties.

In response, Harry offers his final thoughts: “Don’t accept the lie of religion,

socialism, capitalism…Hope is smashable, realism is not. Protect yourself with the

truth.” Bella challenges his worldview, saying, “I realize what you are now, Harry.

Just a broken little boy who cannot bear the pain of the world.” Through this, she

not only condemns Harry's black-and-white perspective as cowardly but also

suggests it is incapable of bringing about change, believing that true strength lies in

confronting life's challenges and embracing the complexity of the world rather than

retreating from it. This is underscored by her response to Harry’s question about

why she is still with Duncan – she believes that he will improve.

The B part of Bella is used here similarly to its first appearance, again using its

melodramatic qualities, but this time it emphasizes Harry’s intense emotions as he

watches Bella leave, gazing at her with longing.

PARIS

01:24:11-

01:24:20

Non-diegetic music:

Bella

Paris title superimposed over an image of Bella floating melancholically on a

cutout of a brain, with lightning striking beneath the water.

Duncan sulking

because they have no

money. Bella goes to

get some money. Meets

Madam Swiney, a

brothel owner. Bella’s

first customer.

01:24:21-

01:28:22

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / city

environment: horses

neighing, off-screen

distant sound of

harmonica, children

playing, men talking;

domestic environment

/ bedroom: sheet

ruffling, furniture

creaking; body sounds

Futuristic version of 19th century Paris. Duncan is sulking because it is cold, and

they have no money. Bella treats this as a challenge, another experiment. In search

of a hotel, she meets Madam Swiney, brothel owner, who offers her work.

Driven by curiosity about other men, Bella accepts. Her first customer turns out to

be a humorously brief encounter, and with her earnings, she buys herself some

éclairs.

Duncan leaves.

01:28:23-

01:30:57

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / city

Upon discovering how Bella obtained the money, Duncan completely loses it.

Feeling hurt and offended, he begins to curse Bella, calling her various names and

environment: horses

neighing, church bell

ringing, children

playing, distant chatter

declaring that: “whoring is the worst thing a woman can do”. He takes the money

Baxter gave Bella and leaves.

Bella starts working in

Madam Swiney’s

brothel. Duncan has not

left.

01:30:58-

01:43:32

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Paris; Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / city

environment

Paris is set in B minor. Follows a rondo form with alternating sections and

variations. The orchestration includes whips, flute, piccolo, string passages,

pitch-bended low-register percussion, and brass. Changes between sections align

with shifts in scenes, corresponding to each new customer Bella encounters. The

montage, aimed to show all variations of men’s ‘poorness’, features a series of

Bella’s clients, including a smelly butcher, a man with a hook for a hand, the

toc-toc Frenchman, a “gifted” priest, a strange, hair-sniffing man, BDSM

enthusiasts, and a father with his two sons. Interwoven with these scenes is Bella’s

ongoing attempt to promote her ideas on improvement, suggesting a new approach

to how women might choose their customers. However, Madam Swiney shuts

down Bella's enthusiastic idealism, explaining that, while she appreciates Bella’s

rigor, things must remain as they are due to the realities of her situation. In another

scene, feeling homesick in her free time, Bella attends medical lectures – a subtle

hint that she may follow in Baxter’s footsteps to become a doctor. She also meets

Toinette, who introduces her to socialism.

In a completely irrational state, Duncan tries to get Bella to come with him. She

tells him to go home. Bella and Toinette then leave for a meeting with the socialists.

As Duncan yells after them, calling them whores, Bella retorts that, as sex workers,

they are “their own means of production”.

Felicity is not

developing. Baxter has

a tumour.

01:43:33-

01:45:18

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / professions:

scalpel; human sounds

/ body: cutting, blood

dripping

Baxter compares his lack of paternal feelings for Felicity to his relationship with

his father, Sir Collins, stating that emotional detachment from one's creation,

particularly if it’s a failed experiment, “is a necessity of science”. Shows the duality

of Baxter’s character, as emotional, but also puts into question whether Baxter

really learns the lesson of responsibly creativity (see “Palimpsestous Intertextuality

of Poor Things”).

Max performs surgery on Baxter and discovers that the tumour has spread,

revealing that Baxter is dying.

Madam Swiney and

Bella

01:45:19-

01:48:22

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella. Diegetic

sounds: cultural

sounds / city

environment, brothel

Bella becomes depressed as she feels she has learned all she can from her work as a

sex worker, and she grows increasingly enraged by her inability to bring about any

improvement. Madam Swiney, while attempting to comfort her, bites Bella –

perhaps out of pride, but also jealousy of her beauty and youth. Bella’s screams

transition into Bella.

Toinette and Bella

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella / Les Yeux Bleus

/ Estore’s Song

Toinette and Bella have sex, with Bella’s melodramatic B section underlining her

climax. As they cuddle, Toinette sings Les Yeux Bleus. Unlike in the book, Toinette

is the one who points out Bella’s c-section scar. This shift aligns with the overall

style of the film, as Toinette reveals that Bella had been misinformed about the

scar's origin, as it was a man who told her the reason.

Baxter receives

Duncan’s letter.

Duncan in an asylum.

Bella learns that Baxter

is dying, returns home.

01:48:22-

01:51:10

Dialogue. Diegetic

sounds: environment /

asylum

After receiving a letter from Duncan, Max visits him in the asylum to learn Bella's

whereabouts and bring her home before Baxter dies. He then sends Bella a letter,

accompanied by a drawing of Baxter on his deathbed

LONDON

01:51:11-

01:51:16

Diegetic sounds:

cultural sounds / city:

church bell ringing;

animal sounds / birds

chirping

London title superimposed onto a collage of Bella walking on a bridge with a

suitcase, wind in her hair. The bridge has eyes as pillars that disappear into a sea of

clouds, above a smoke-like sky. Sound design, i.e., church bells, signal both a

funeral and a wedding.

Bella comes home.

01:51:17-

01:58:15

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

London. Diegetic

sounds: domestic

sounds, human sounds

/ breaking bones,

natural and animal

sounds / forest, leaves,

birds chirping

Ironically, Bella is greeted by Ms. Prim with the words, “The whore is back”,

passing on the same lesson to Felicity, who sings “Bell, whore” as a nursery rhyme

while beating the meat.

Bella asks Baxter about her origin and the baby. Baxter responds that it's a

complicated answer, explaining that while Bella is both her own child and her

mother, she is neither, as no memories or experiences from her previous life

remain. In this way, Bella “created herself”, emphasizing the film's theme that a

creator does not entirely define the identity of their creation. Instead, like Bella, one

shapes their own identity.

When Bella learns about Felicity, she reprimands Max and Baxter's actions with

disgust, calling them monsters.

London is set in A-major. Orchestration: bassoon (AB) and uilleann pipes for C

section. Farewell theme.

Bella walks to the bridge where Victoria threw herself. While grateful that Baxter

gave her life, she does not forgive his lies or his obsessive need to shelter her. As

the conclusion to her coming-of-age story, now fully developed, Bella decides to

take on Baxter’s role and become a doctor.

Max and Bella go for a walk, confirming their wedding. The interaction highlights

Max’s differences from Duncan, as he does not judge Bella’s work at the brothel,

viewing her body as freely “[hers] to give”. Additionally, Bella calls Max

“adorable” as she proposes – a line that not only contrasts with Duncan's earlier

lament about Bella losing her “adorable way of speaking”, but also serves as a

reversal of typical gender roles, with Bella asserting her agency in the relationship.

Bella says to Max, “Do you find people improvable?' to which he replies, “I do.

Just as a human body can be cured of illness, so can men and women be cured of

aspect”, highlights Bella’s choice of profession as a natural continuation of the

efforts she has demonstrated throughout her journey, now put into direct practice.

Bella and Max’s

wedding.

01:58:15-

02:03:27

Dialogue. Baxter

coughing out blood.

Non-diegetic music:

London, C part, Alfie.

Alfie, the General, is presented as a symbol of traditional patriarchal beliefs, which

is emphasized in one of his first lines: "Did we miss the part of anyone objecting to

this? Or, has that been removed in some kind of faux modernization of the

catechism?". This line highlights his disdain for any form of progress or reform,

suggesting that the changes made to traditional systems are merely superficial and

insincere. His use of "faux modernization" reflects his belief that attempts to update

societal norms are hollow and undermine the values he holds dear, positioning him

as a representative of outdated, patriarchal thinking.

Alfie in G-minor. Companion piece to Mother of God. The music opens with deep,

sustained pitch-bending notes that resonate, while the basses crawl. The rhythm is

slow, deliberate, like a heavy march, each beat adding weight to the growing sense

of doom. In the B section, high, keening notes from the strings or eerie, whispering

winds evoke an uncanny sensation. Brief pause increases the tension, heightening

the anticipation, before the music culminates in the final sections, which introduce

unpleasant mechanical noises, accentuating the sense of dread. Could also be

described through Alfie’s line: “I have disembodied men on the battlefield. I always

imagined a dull, hollow throbbing and that is what it was like”.

While the non-diegetic music signals horror, it is counterbalanced by Duncan’s

frantic, madman’s speech, laced with phrases from the Bible, alongside Baxter’s

laboured coughing. This juxtaposition keeps the film safely anchored within the

dark comedy genre.

Victoria comes home.

Alfie and Bella having

diner. Bella in bed

02:03:28-

02:11:37

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Alfie and Victoria,

Alfie. Diegetic sounds:

domestic sounds,

cutlery, natural and

animal sounds: wind

howling, dog barking,

human sounds: eating /

non-diegetic sounds:

microphonia

Change in palette, and shift from analogue to digital film.

Alfie and Victoria. Victoria reorchestrated: addition of ghost “woos”, their pitch

wavering, drawn out in a playful, exaggerated fashion, almost cartoonish in nature;

theme melody transposed to lower register strings.

The film only briefly touches on Victoria’s storyline. Alfie tells Bella they married

due to a shared love of “good times and cruelty”, as the servant’s unhappy and

scared reaction to her return home underscores, leading Bella to conclude Victoria

“was not a kind person”. However, Alfie also reveals that Bella’s misery was rooted

in their child, whom she called “the monster”, and given Alfie’s cruelty and need

for dominance, as well as his plan to have Victoria undergo a clitoridectomy, it is

clear Victoria was more of a prisoner than a wife.

The non-diegetic sound of microphonia melds with Alfie and Victoria's

high-pitched strings, intensifying Bella's horror at the realization that she once

again finds herself in a situation where a man wants to confine her.

Alfie sees Victoria as merely one of his possessions, an obstacle in his life

dedicated to the “taking of territory”, led astray due to her sexual hysteria. As he

tries to give Bella a martini with chloroform, she throws the drink into his face, and

Alfie quite literally shoots himself in the foot – the situation is once again made

more melodramatic with the non-diegetic music culminating in the C part of Alfie,

1-1-2 motif of the main theme combined with pitch-bended mechanical noise of

uilleann pipes. Bella takes wounded Alfie home, to “improve” him.

Alfie in surgery. Baxter

dying.

02:11:38-

02:14:30

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

Bella, Max and God.

Diegetic sounds:

domestic sounds,

cultural sounds /

professions: surgery

Bella and Max in Eb-major. Companion piece to London, Farewell theme.

Orchestration: extremely off-tune bassoon (A) and uilleann pipes (B).

Again, Bella highlights that her form does not define her, remarking on her

experiences as “a story of someone else, not Bella Baxter”. Further accentuated by

Baxter saying Bella was the only one that neither shunned nor pitied him for his

monstrous appearance.

Finale

02:14:31-

Dialogue.

Non-diegetic music:

‘Poor Things’ Finale

and End Credits.

Diegetic sounds:

domestic sounds,

natural and sound of

hybrid animals

‘Poor Things’ Finale and End Credits is set in Ab-major. The most richly

orchestrated piece that combines materials from previous pieces, primarily the

Farewell theme (London and Bella, Max and Baxter).

(For the analysis of the final scene, see ch. “Who or What is (a) Chimera?”).

5. Conclusion

The reanimation of Poor Things from novel to film demonstrates the adaptability and

enduring relevance of Gray’s original work, which itself is a reinterpretation of earlier literary

and mythological traditions. All three works – Shelley’s Frankenstein, Gray’s Poor Things, and

Lanthimos’ film – interpret the psychological conflict central to the themes of identity and

creation through the lenses of their respective eras and their unique protagonists: Shelley’s

creature, Gray’s Bella Caledonia, and Lanthimos’ Bella Chimera. These figures embody the

tension between autonomy and societal constraints, each exploring the fragility of human

identity within their context. Lanthimos’ adaptation amplifies these themes by fully embracing

its visual and auditory dimensions, with Jerskin’s score and Burn’s sound design acting as

narrative agents that deepen emotional resonance. The compositional techniques and humanized

soundscapes complement the film’s exploration of Bella’s chimerical nature, emphasizing her as

both a product of creation and an agent of subversion. Ultimately, Poor Things challenges its

audiences to engage with the complexities of being and belonging in a fragmented world. In our

idealism, as Powell suggests, “perhaps we tentatively sense that this newfound […] freedom

might render us not so much Promethean as potentially Pandoric vanguards” (Powell 340).

Bella’s journey reflects this duality, where freedom is intertwined with the tensions of creation

and control, illuminating humanity’s ever-evolving search for identity and meaning. Both Gray’s

novel and Lanthimos’ film celebrate hybridity, innovation, and storytelling as transformative

forces, presenting Bella as an enduring symbol of the power – and fragility – of

self-determination.

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