In the ever-evolving landscape of science fiction cinema, certain films stand as towering pillars, their influence reverberating through generations of storytellers. Fritz Lang’s seminal masterpiece, Metropolis (1927), undoubtedly occupies such a hallowed position, its dystopian vision forever etched into the collective consciousness of the genre. Nearly a century later, Yorgos Lanthimos’ Poor Things (2023) emerged as an unexpected kindred spirit, its satirical narrative echoing the thematic depth and visual splendor of its illustrious predecessor.
At the heart of both films lies a profound exploration of societal stratification and the tumultuous relationship between the haves and the have-nots. In Metropolis, Lang paints a vivid portrait of a vertically divided metropolis, where the privileged elite reside in the glittering spires above, blissfully detached from the oppressed workers toiling in the subterranean depths. Poor Things, while adopting a more surreal and darkly comedic tone, similarly depicts a world cleaved by inequality, where the affluent indulge in their eccentric desires while the impoverished masses struggle to survive.
This chasm between the classes is embodied by the respective protagonists of each film. In Metropolis, the naive yet compassionate Freder bridges the divide, his journey serving as a catalyst for understanding and potential reconciliation. Similarly, in Poor Things, the enigmatic Bella Baxter finds herself navigating the treacherous waters of societal hierarchies, her very existence challenging the boundaries of convention.
Both films employ striking visual metaphors to underscore their commentary on class divides. Metropolis’ indelible imagery of the towering cityscape looming over the subterranean machinery is a potent symbol of the oppressive nature of industrialization and the subjugation of the working class. Poor Things, while adopting a more surreal aesthetic, employs its own symbolic language, with the affluent residing in opulent, almost absurdist surroundings, while the less fortunate exist on the fringes of society.
Beneath the surface of these societal critiques lies a deeper exploration of the human condition, one that transcends the specifics of time and place. Both films grapple with the concepts of identity, individuality, and the boundaries of what defines humanity. In Metropolis, the creation of the robot Maria serves as a catalyst for existential questions, challenging the notion of what it means to be truly alive. Poor Things takes a more literal approach, with Bella Baxter’s very existence as a reanimated being posing profound queries about the nature of consciousness and the ethical implications of scientific experimentation.
The themes of technology and its potential for both liberation and subjugation permeate both narratives. In Metropolis, the machines are portrayed as both a source of oppression, relentlessly grinding the workers into submission, and a potential means of emancipation, should their power be harnessed for the greater good. Poor Things, while set in a more contemporary context, echoes similar concerns, with scientific advancements being both celebrated and scrutinized through the lens of their ethical and societal ramifications.
Beyond these thematic resonances, the two films share a remarkable visual kinship, with both directors embracing a bold, expressionistic style that elevates their narratives to the realm of the mythic. Lang’s pioneering use of light and shadow, coupled with the imposing architecture of his futuristic cityscape, imbues Metropolis with a sense of grandeur and haunting beauty. Lanthimos, similarly, employs a striking color palette and surreal production design, creating a world that is at once familiar and disturbingly alien.
Perhaps the most striking similarity between the two films lies in their exploration of the human condition through the lens of the “other.” In Metropolis, the robot Maria serves as a potent metaphor for the dehumanization of the working class, her artificial nature representing the fear and distrust of those deemed different or inferior. Poor Things takes this concept even further, with Bella Baxter’s very existence challenging the boundaries of what it means to be human, her reanimated state rendering her an outsider in a world that cannot comprehend her existence.
Both films, in their own unique ways, offer a scathing critique of the societal structures that perpetuate oppression and marginalization. Lang’s vision of a rigidly stratified society, where the elite revel in luxury while the workers toil in squalor, serves as a powerful indictment of the inequalities of his time. Lanthimos, through the lens of biting satire, holds a mirror to the contemporary world, exposing the absurdities and hypocrisies that persist despite our supposed progress.
Yet, amidst the darkness and despair, both films offer glimmers of hope, whether through the compassionate actions of individuals or the potential for societal transformation. Metropolis culminates in a call for unity and understanding, with the workers and the elite recognizing their shared humanity and the need for cooperation. Poor Things, in its own subversive way, celebrates the resilience of the human spirit, even in the face of the most bizarre and unsettling circumstances.
In the end, the enduring legacies of Metropolis and Poor Things lie in their ability to transcend the boundaries of time and genre, becoming timeless meditations on the human condition. While separated by nearly a century, these two films speak to one another across the vast expanse of cinematic history, their voices intertwining in a chorus that resonates with profound truths about our society, our struggles, and our collective search for meaning.
As we navigate the ever-evolving landscape of science fiction cinema, films like Metropolis and Poor Things serve as beacons, guiding us through the complexities of our world and challenging us to confront the most fundamental questions of our existence. They remind us that true art has the power to transcend the limitations of its medium, becoming a mirror that reflects the depths of our shared experience, no matter the era or the context in which it was created.
Photo Credit: The Cinegogue
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