I just got home from the cinema, and for the second time in a week I find myself wondering what on earth I just saw. John and I went to see Poor Things. From the trailers I had kind of assumed that it may be about mental illness or learning difficulties, which is why I wanted to watch it. Yet what J and I just saw was far more complex and interesting than a simple allegory: by turns it was hilarious and horrific; as shocking as it was charming. It was bizarre and surreal, even fairly obscene, but also humane and very lovable. It owes as much to Mary Shelly as it does to Monty Python. I’ll not try to write a complete review of it yet because I wouldn’t know where to begin; but I can only say I was absolutely fascinated, and that Poor Things is the best film I’ve seen in a very long time.