Those of us with longer lifespans (i.e. Old Farts) will recall a film heavily promoted in the 80s that was very similar in structure to the film we’re reviewing. For those not aware, it was called The Bride (said it was similar) and starred Sting (yes, the singer) as Baron Frankenstein, Clancy Brown (excellent) as the Monster, and Jennifer Beals (yes, from Flashdance) as the title character. It wasn’t great, although Brown was praised for his sympathetic portrayal, which was unusual at the time, and it totally bombed. We mention this revisionary take on The Bride of Frankenstein, as the general concept has been dusted off again. In the present day, we now have Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride! (note the new shouty punctuation), which she has written and directed. During production, it drew attention to itself with budgetary tiffs, reshoots, and poor test screenings. Allegedly. However, the top-notch cast of Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Peter Sarsgaard, Annette Bening, Jake Gyllenhaal, and Penélope Cruz continued to intrigue and raise expectations. It is, of course, inspired by the classic 1935 sequel, which is now considered a masterpiece of camp horror. Having said that, the Bride in the original film didn’t do much else apart from hiss at Boris Karloff at the end and die in an exploding laboratory. Very much a passion project for Gyllenhaal, this movie was designed to bring the character to a level status with her other half and provide a feminist slant on the story. Reviews have been… “mixed” so far, and it doesn’t look like it will have the legs necessary for a hit. So, with that in mind, is it ALIVE!!… or not?

 

It all starts with the ghost of Mary Shelley (no, really) speaking to the cinema audience. Shelley (also played by Buckley) is noticeably pissed off. Whilst in the afterlife, she’s seen her novel (Frankenstein, obvs) become a cultural touchpoint, but (apparently) it’s not the story that she wanted to tell, being held back by society and the patriarchy. But she’s found a “crack” in reality and a way to realise her untold fantasy. Cue 1930s Chicago, where a despondent “good time gal” named Ida (Buckley again) is drunkenly trying to survive another night as a gangster’s plaything. Suddenly, she is possessed by the spirit of Shelley (yes, really) and starts to badmouth the bad guys. This leads to a “fall down the stairs” and a pauper’s grave. Now, cue a swathed figure in the big city (Bale as Frankenstein’s monster, who takes his “father’s” name). This surprisingly erudite character is over a hundred by now, and goddamn it, he’s as lonely as hell. He reveals his nature to Dr Cornelia Euphronious (Bening), a scientist who has somehow perfected a regenerative process that could revive a female companion for Frank (as he now goes by). Before you can say “body snatchers”, they’ve procured the corpse of Ida and (in a scene more reminiscent of “Metropolis” than “Frankenstein”) they get Ida kicking again. But Ida can’t remember anything and is initially wary of Frank. However, during an unintentional crime spree across the country, it seems that she is destined to discover her true identity and autonomy for the first time.

 

Nuttier than Dubai chocolate, wackier than a rubber chicken, and more of a patchwork project than Frank himself, there are a lot of issues with The Bride! To start with, the inclusion of Mary Shelley’s ghost is a weird decision, and it just does not work. You can see where it comes from. The 1935 Bride also has a prologue with Shelley giving an introduction, being played by Elsa Lanchester, who also plays the title character. So, it’s mirroring that. But having the real-life author be a possessing entity that (either intentionally or unintentionally) brings about the death of the main character is just plain bizarre. This plot strand could be easily excised from the storyline, and it wouldn’t make a scrap of difference. Instead, it’s used as an excuse for Buckley to flip-flop from an authentic US voice to a cut-glass English accent, which reels off word definitions like an ambulatory thesaurus (not making this up!) Although the ghost fades into the background in later scenes, the plot device still grates a little.

 

Shelley’s haunting and testy possession is also accompanied by several other missteps, either in tone or direction. At several points, the lead characters seem to be able to project themselves onto cinema screens, where you would imagine it was a flight of fantasy on their part, but other people react to the occurrence. They also seem to be able to force bystanders to dance at one point, and you're never really sure what the perception of “monsters” is in this movie universe. On some occasions, the overall tone switches from the sublime to the ridiculous. For example, one scene sees Frank and the Bride disguise themselves as food servers at a showbiz party, only for him to meet his screen idol. This starts as a genuinely affecting scene of Bale showing the character being overwhelmed by emotions, but then segues into a daft homage to the “Putting on the Ritz” dance scene from Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein. Yes, really!

 

It’s the moments of crassness like that, and obvious thematic spotlighting, which stop the film from being much more effective. Towards the end, there is a (female) rage against the machine, where a character shouts out “Me Too, Me Too” in a face-palming moment. All that’s missing is the hashtag! It could have been a powerful scene, but it now just spoon-feeds some critics the chance to point at the screen, spit out their popcorn, and scream “Woke nonsense”. This will be compounded by a feminist revolution that is highlighted at one point, having been inexplicably started by the Bride spouting a load of body-swapped gibberish during a criminal act, and initiates a “brain attack” protest. Just really odd. There are some good and powerful ideas in those messy moments, but they’re offered in such a thudding manner that you can’t really take on board the messages with good faith.

 

So, it’s messy and blunt and pretty bad in some places. And yet… and yet…There is an oddly likeable punk-rock sensibility to it that will appeal to a lot of people, and whilst a little overlong, it does provide offbeat entertainment with a verve that is hard to write off or simply dismiss. It would undeniably be a better film (and overall) experience if some of the issues, like the ghost of Shelley or poorly timed dance numbers, had been pruned from the screenplay. Because, despite a lot of negative reviews, there is some good stuff in its 2 hours’ worth of mayhem. Not least of which is the presence of the two leads themselves, namely Bale and Buckley. Some reviews centre on Buckley’s eccentric dynamism in the central role, all verbal tics and nonsense ramblings, juxtaposed with sassy observations and f-bombs. And it is exuberant and passionate turn from her. Like the mad lovechild of the Joker and Harley-Quinn, should they ever make that poor judgment call. But you can’t help thinking it could have been more soulful and effective if all that cobblers with the Shelley possession had been nixed at an early stage. Perhaps ironically, it’s Frank that actually feels like the more interesting character and one ripe for exploration. It’s an excellent performance from Bale, managing to balance the expected tropes of the fictional creature, alongside unexpected sweetness and naivety. Despite one character flaw (lying about her origins), he actually treats the Bride with respect and devotion, as opposed to being an immediately possessive asshole and expecting her submission to him. Whilst it lacks the gravitas of Guillermo Del Toro’s recent opus, it’s still an engaging portrayal and surprisingly touching.

 

In fact, Frank and another character (Sarsgaard as Det. Jake Wiles) represent flawed-but-mostly-decent representations of the men in the Bride’s orbit. Frank is inherently supportive and good to her, but manipulates her vulnerability to some extent, using her lost memory as an excuse to fabricate a connection. Wiles is a corrupt cop but is riddled with guilt and acts as a decoy to allow his female “secretary” (Cruz as Myrna Malloy) to perform the real detective work. Perhaps predictably, all other males are one-note misogynists. But it’s nice to note that the real point here is that lifestyle choices should be, and ultimately are, down to the Bride herself. Aside from when you’re metaphorically bludgeoned over the head with that fact, this actually leads to some sweet moments and a (mostly) satisfactory climax which feels refreshingly old-fashioned in a way. There’s also a mid-credit sequence which is actually worth sticking around for as well, as it ties up a couple of loose ends.

 

So, whilst it’s a mixed bag and there are some glaring issues, ultimately, it’s actually an offbeat romp that entertains. It will be undoubtedly divisive for many and has already been ripped apart in some quarters. But if you can live with the wacky Shelley interventions and some of the blunt social commentary, lovely performances and ideas are floating around inside this snow globe of a film. At the very least, seeing Bale and Buckley whooping it up with sheer joy during Bonnie and Clyde escapades is something that shouldn’t be underestimated. It won’t be a hit, but it could become a cult, despite the flaws. And you probably won’t see a better-looking punk shocker/gothic romance like this for some time. At least not on this budget and with this cast.