Review: THE BRIDE!

 by Rob DiCristino

The worst couple you know is about to ruin your Halloween party.

We begin in an inky black void. This is the afterlife, we’re told, where author Mary Shelley (Jessie Buckley) has writhed in discontent since a brain tumor cut her promising career short at the age of 53. While modern audiences may revere her as the author of Frankenstein — which she wrote “on a dare,” according to the defiant opening banner text — Mary spent much of her working life in the shadow of her husband, Percy, whose literary renown always seemed to outpace her own. In the years since her death, Mary has done a lot of thinking about why that might have been. Why was her own work regarded with such marginal interest for so long, while her husband’s was held in such high esteem? Why is the work of women always discounted with such flippancy, as if their male equivalents possess some inherent talent that they lack? It isn’t right, Mary barks at us through the void. It isn’t fair. It’s time for women to fight back and get the respect they deserve. Frankenstein may have made her name, Mary tells us, “but I have more to say.”

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride! is the next chapter of her story. We begin in 1930s Chicago, where good time girl Ida (also Buckley) entertains a gaggle of mobsters. Somewhere between the cocktails and innuendos, Ida is suddenly possessed by the spirit of Mary Shelley, jumping onto the table and scolding her companions in a throaty — and disarmingly articulate — London roar. Things get out of hand and, long story short, Ida ends the evening in a pauper’s grave. Meanwhile, Frankenstein’s Monster (Christian Bale) — who has wandered alone since his creator’s demise — tracks down the noted mad scientist Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening). Frank is dying of loneliness, he tells her, and only the love of a reanimated companion can make his life worth living. You get where this is going, of course. With Detectives Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard) and Mallow (Penelope Cruz) hot on their tail, Frank and Ida — now “Penny” — get their Bonnie and Clyde on, crashing parties and curb-stomping any jackass loudmouths dumb enough to get in their way.

If Gyllenhaal's feature debut The Lost Daughter was a delicate, understated mosaic full of nuanced characters and humanistic themes, then The Bride! is its snot-nosed baby sister, a blood-splattered fairy tale for the Hot Topic set that refuses to bend to the edicts of good taste. Light on plot but heavy on vibes, Gyllenhaal’s film reimagines James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein as a primal scream of feminine rage. As Mary Shelley eggs her on from beyond the grave, Buckley’s Bride cuts a violent swathe of self-discovery that inspires downtrodden women across America to rise up and dismantle a patriarchy that treats them as disposable, second-class citizens. Meanwhile, her piecemeal paramour pursues his own best life, a new beginning molded in the image of Golden Age song-and-dance man Ronnie Reed (Jake Gyllenhaal). Frank may be lying to his Bride about a shared past that never actually happened — he says they’re newlyweds reincarnated after an “accident” — but their momentum feels powerful enough to keep them together forever.

It isn’t, of course, and our Bride will eventually have to reckon with the uncomfortable truth of Frank’s deception. Like Detective Mallow — whose female intuition unlocks clues in the case that the oafish Detective Wiles would never spot on his own — she’s a woman breaking free from this man’s world, a lusty, undisciplined siren who’s had Just About Enough of the cops, mob bosses, and cadaverous cassanovas who try to control her. Gyllenhaal’s thematic work may be loud and obvious throughout The Bride! — leading to a clumsy third act that nearly screws the whole damn pooch — but there’s an intentionality to it that is nonetheless endearing, a gothic irreverence that protects it from any truly meticulous criticism. Imbued with the manic power of her literary mother and styled like a Pinterest board of Helena Bonham Carter characters, Buckley’s Bride is an undeniable force of nature, a magnetic turn from a gifted actor who — like Margot Robbie and Emma Stone before her — should put the Oscar bait aside for a while and let her freak flag fly.

So while it may lack the intellectual heft of Coralie Fargeat’s The Substance — and, more graciously, the condescending smarm of Emerald Fennell’s Wuthering Heights — there’s enough style and verve in The Bride! to justify the ambition of Gyllenhaal’s swing. It’s a fun idea executed with energy and talent, an opportunity for a fledgling director to hone her craft while collaborating with a stable of talented family members like Jake Gyllenhaal — playing smug and greasy, go figure — and former co-stars like Christian Bale. Bale can do a morose, cockney Frankenstein with rage issues in his sleep, of course, but Gyllenhaal is wise to have her Dark Knight hold the center of the picture while Buckley colors in all its broader edges. She’s probably the only thing we’ll remember about The Bride! a year from now, but Hollywood — especially the Golden Age era (era) recreated here — used to run on curiosities like The Bride!, with journeyman directors unafraid to work across genres. A few more wild left turns like this, and Maggie Gyllenhaal could easily become one of them.

The Bride! hits U.S. theaters on Friday, March 6th.