This review contains spoilers.
Starring Christian Bale as Frankenstein’s monster (a.k.a. Frank) and Jessie Buckley as his companion, The Bride! follows this monstrous pair as they get up to mischief in 1930s America. It is the second film to be directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal, who claims she was inspired to make this movie after seeing a man with a tattoo of The Bride of Frankenstein across his forearm at a party. She’d never watched the 1935 film before, but once she did, she was immediately struck by how The Bride, played by Elsa Lanchester, didn’t say a single word. Going into this project, Gyllenhaal was determined to give her a voice — and an unshakable one at that.
The End is Just the Beginning
The Bride! begins in black-and-white, with author Mary Shelley pacing around purgatory, lamenting that Frankenstein, the modern Prometheus, is not the book she wanted to write. Desperate to imagine what her tale could have been before her untimely death, her soul decides to travel to 1936 Chicago and imbue itself into the body of a gangster’s moll named Ida. The trouble is, Ida just so happens to be at a dinner party with mob boss Lupino when an angry Mary Shelley possesses her and begins reeling off a list of his crimes in a conspicuous British accent. Ida is dragged to the side by two of Lupino’s goons, who try to shut her up, but Shelley will not be silenced, resulting in the poor girl being fatally pushed down the stairs.
Elsewhere in Chicago, Frank pays a visit to scientist Dr Euphronius, knocking on her door with a stack of papers detailing her interest in reanimating the dead. He implores her to test her theories and make him an undead companion after a century of being rejected by humanity. At first, Bale’s accent can be slightly off-putting, sounding like a strange, raspy mix of German, Transylvanian and Midwestern American. But he acts the part of the gentle giant well, expertly conveying Frank’s loneliness and longing. These are both central themes in Mary Shelley’s original novel, in which the monster says: ‘I am alone and miserable: man will not be associate with me’ and ‘[my] Creator … abandoned me.’
After deliberating over the ethics of such a feat, Euphronius eventually agrees. She and Frank then proceed to dig up Ida’s freshly-laid, unmarked grave and attach her corpse to one of Euphronius’ contraptions. Suddenly, Ida’s alive once more, vomiting black bile that stains her lips, cheeks and chest, her hair now platinum blonde and frazzled by the electrical currents used to bring her back from the dead. Frank decides to name his new companion Penelope and lies to her that she has always been his bride. This is convenient, as she remembers none of her previous life except brief flashbacks and a sense of unresolved business. Shelley will occasionally continue to speak through her throughout the film, but this part of the story is largely forgotten. Besides, three voices within one person can feel overwhelming to viewers who are not given enough time to empathise with the first version of The Bride before the next two incarnations emerge. However, it cannot be denied that Buckley has thrown her all into playing the part of Penelope, capturing her electrifying energy, lust for life, and her inexhaustible spirit. Everything Buckley does, from her furious and slightly convoluted monologues to her curious twitches and head rolls, speaks of an actress embodying a character who is utterly unique and a little kooky.
The Adventure Continues
Frank, who loves movies, decides to take his new bride to the cinema, thinking that no one will notice their monstrous appearance under the cover of darkness. Penelope, yearning to enjoy herself even more, drags Frank to an underground nightclub. By this point in the film, you can tell that no expense has been spared on the scenery. Grimy sidewalks are just metres away from sparkling Art Deco establishments. What should be an unsettling graveyard is tinged with vibrant, midnight blue. Neon lights bounce around the nightclub, but they are dimmed by a murky haze of smoke. There is a constant battle between light and darkness, cleanness and filth, the poor and the powerful. These juxtapositions highlight the duality of Chicago. Beneath its glittering facade, it’s a corrupt city where gangsters rule with impunity, and monsters roam the streets.
When the pair exit the club, things don’t go quite as planned. The Bride is attacked by two men who attempt to rape her, so Frank swoops in and kills them. This kicks off a Bonnie-and-Clyde-style adventure which is part accidental killing spree, part Hollywood bucket list. Later, Frank attempts to call Penelope ‘The Bride of Frankenstein,’ but she insists on ‘just The Bride,’ presumably to show her autonomy. But is she really autonomous? While the magnetic pull between Frank and Penelope is irresistible, it does pose some difficult questions. For instance, what choice did Ida have in being brought back to life? She doesn’t give her permission to be Frank’s mate, but as the movie progresses, they grow closer. Also, does Gyllenhaal choose to include scenes of sexual violence to present Frank as a knight in shining armour so that the audience will root for him? It’s difficult to tell.
Eventually, Frank and Penelope’s crimes make front-page news, spawning two subplots. In one, Lupino recognises Ida’s face in the newspaper and fears she will give his secrets away to the police, so he sends another of his henchmen to kill her again. Simultaneously, a hapless detective called Wiles and his undervalued female assistant Malloy, played by Penelope Cruz, must piece together who’s behind the recent string of murders and track them down.
Feminist Undertones
Malloy, much like Ida, is frequently silenced. But whereas Ida is the victim of male violence that punished her loose tongue, Malloy is discredited by her male colleagues, who look at her as an inferior. Only the undead Penelope, who operates outside the rules of society, can truly use her voice. And use it she does, screaming that the ‘angry dead’ have ‘got something to say’ and repeatedly shouting ‘me too,’ a barely-veiled reference to the 2017 ‘Me Too’ movement that raised awareness of rape culture. Her words end up sparking their own cultural movement, as the women of Chicago paint their lips black in imitation of her iconic look. Whether this is supposed to be a stand against the patriarchy is unclear, though it is unsurprising that Gyllenhaal has decided to lean into the feminist undertones of the film. Her critically-acclaimed directorial debut, The Lost Daughter, discusses similar themes. Meanwhile, Buckley has recently received numerous awards for her role in Hamnet, where she plays Shakespeare’s grieving wife Anne, who must overcome societal condemnation of her wayward behaviour. At this point, Jessie Buckley is no stranger to playing fierce and flawed women.
Gyllenhaal and Buckley’s passion for the movie is undeniable. As is the passion between Frank and his bride. Their love is not demure; it is as bold and electrifying as a thunderstorm, sending shockwaves across the city. The pair even outrage Chicago’s bourgeoisie with a quirky song and dance number to ‘Puttin’ On The Ritz,’ yet another pop culture reference, this time to the 1974 Young Frankenstein film starring Gene Wilder. Admittedly, this scene feels a little out of place, but it makes sense when you consider that the film’s cinematographer, composer (Hildur Guðnadóttir), and one of its producers also worked on The Joker and its musical sequel Folie à Deux.
As with all things, however, Frank and Penelope’s volatile romance comes to an abrupt end. Lupino’s lackey eventually catches up with the soulmates, shooting Frank in the head. A distraught Penelope manages to escape and carry her lover’s corpse to Dr Euphronius’ lab, before she too is shot. By the time Malloy arrives at the crime scene, it’s too late. Or is it? Because when the detective steps out of the room, telling Euphronius to take all the time she needs, Shelley’s voice can be heard comparing Frank and Penelope to Romeo and Juliet before a bolt of electricity rampages through the lab. The film ends on a close-up of the dead lovers’ hands, clasping each other as they are resurrected once more.
Despite its imperfections, you have to admire The Bride! for its fearless desire to be different in challenging an industry that’s increasingly reliant on uninspiring remakes and bland superhero franchises. Even Bale was surprised by the film’s risk-taking, originally assuming it would be a small indie film rather than something with millions of dollars worth of investment from Warner Bros. Unfortunately, the resulting film can’t seem to make up its mind about what it wants to say and, as such, some of its themes feel underdeveloped. It tries to be a Gothic romance-period-drama-tragedy- musical-steampunk-science-fiction-coming-of-age-feminist critique-gangster-and-detective story all in one. Just like the fictional Victor Frankenstein, Gyllenhaal ambitiously stitches so many different genres together that the final result, whilst intriguing, is not fully-formed.
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