Maggie Gyllenhaal’s kinetic, chaotic odyssey The Bride! might just be the most alive the dead have ever felt on screen. In her sophomore feature film, Gyllenhaal (writing, producing and directing here) malleates a familiar premise into something wholly original, toppling the source material’s simple iconography in exchange for a new monster classic.
Set in a fantastical Chicago of the 1930s, scientist Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening) brings a slain young woman (Jessie Buckley) back to life to serve as companion for Frankenstein's monster (Christian Bale) who has spent the last century wallowing in loneliness. Upon her resurrection, she proves to be full of surprises – to Euphronius, to “Frank,” and to us. Buckley and Bale take everything we thought we knew about an iconic creature and his best gal, and amp up the glamour, the showmanship, and their autonomy – it even gives them guns.
Fair warning, dear moviegoers (and I do hope you go): in a market flooded by liminal spaces, intentionally plotless three-hour features, and what can really only be described as a cinematic epidemic of “vibes,” The Bride! is very much a story. Gyllenhaal’s thematic upcycling here shreds the white gown of its predecessor, finally extracts the feminine from “feminine rage,” and dares to ask: What if falling in love or even death itself were the least interesting things that happened to a beautiful woman?
Buckley’s portrayal of the titular monster (whose tagged with various names in the film, including Penelope and Ginger) is a masterpiece of movement, motive and mayhem. Her dual role as both the Bride and the ghost of a purgatory-lodged Mary Shelley is commanding, irresistible, and hopefully a sign of more to come from Buckley’s growing list of powerful leading roles. Bale’s turn as “Frank” is likewise unique in the canon of portrayals that precede him. He is gentle, but quick to anger, and fueled by passion for this woman he only just met, but has always longed for. He succumbs to presumptuous and pushy urges of which his bride wants no part, but anyone who has ever wondered if monsters experience chemistry will find their answer here.
As is the case in any formulaic story, the coexisting subplot both validates and drives the events. Peter Sarsgaard’s Detective Jake Wiles and his silently suffering “assistant”/ actual brains-of-the-operation partner Myrna Mallow (Penélope Cruz) pursue Frank and the Bride on their crime wave through the midwest while simultaneously investigating the events that initially led to her death. Gyllenhaal’s brother Jake also turns in show-stopping supporting work as Fred Astaire-esque movie star Ronnie Reed, and the choreographers do not fumble the opportunity for an unforgettable homage to classic films in a dreamlike dance sequence. The cinematography is artfully contemporary, but hearkens back to its silver screen inspiration with flashbulb-like bursts of a guerilla paparazzo.
While it is true the atmosphere is reminiscent of Bonnie and Clyde, Sid and Nancy, or, yes, even the divisively charming Joker 2, The Bride! is a stylized, anachronistic period piece that follows its own rules – in storytelling and aesthetics. Her signature orange silk dress, high-contrast shocking white coiffure, and the enigmatic inkblot across her face unite to form my prediction for costume-to-be this fall, but Vivienne Westwood and Alexander McQueen could have just as easily put it on their runways. Thank the gods of fashion if a haute Halloween is upon us. Even Hildur Guðnadóttir’s score is a cautionary, flickering nervous system, paired with contemporary soundtrack moments from Swedish artist Fever Ray, threading the film with a pervasive warning that while the story may be set in the 1930s, the danger is timeless. And for anyone who has seen the trailer, and if you’ve made it this far, it is not a spoiler to say that the angry mobs of The Bride! have thrown down their pitchforks in favor of Ford V8s and bullets.
The Bride! quakes with a gripping fury studded with punk recklessness and there is no time for apology or surrender. The same crowd of insufferable gorehounds who will only accept the most extreme torture porn as horror will likely dismiss this film the way they did with Sinners, but while the categorization is misguided, the grouping is spot on. If you’re looking for a traditional monster movie or splattery dismemberment story, look elsewhere. The Bride is dead; long live The Bride!
