The Bride review: It lives in chaos
‘The Bride’ is a frenetic tale of female empowerment from the perspective of a woman who demands agency in her second life.
Female icons come in many forms. Women around the world and through the centuries have faced many contradictions, limitations and injunctions. Those that challenge the status quo come from different walks of life. They’re not always the women people expect to stand up as leaders and sometimes that wasn’t even their intention. They often begin determined to bring about change for themselves and their protest gains attention, then momentum. Suddenly, there’s a movement and it’s bigger than anyone could have imagined. The Bride is a bewildering symbol of rebellion in an unlikely love story.
Frankenstein’s monster, a.k.a. Frank (Christian Bale), is exceptionally lonely. After more than a century of isolation, he demands a partner. In 1936, he seeks out Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening), who continues his creator’s work. Enter Ida (Jessie Buckley), an escort that parties with Wall Street suits and mob goons. When a night of revelry ends in her murder, she becomes the natural choice for their experiment. Ida awakens with no memory of her previous life, but a very strong sense of self. Refusing to remain cooped up in Dr. Euphronious’ house, the reinvigorated couple head to the seedy part of town. When their little venture turns violent, they go on the run.
Where the original The Bride of Frankenstein (1935) brought her to life at the end of the film only to immediately regret it, writer and director Maggie Gyllenhaal’s version makes her the focus. Beyond the obvious Universal horror inspirations, the film has several clear influences. Early on, there’s a Bonnie and Clyde vibe as the pair outrun the police and commit petty crimes to fund their survival. However, as they grow closer, there’s a toxicity that seeps into their relationship that more closely resembles Sid and Nancy or Natural Born Killers. Then there’s the less complimentary similarities to Joker: Folie à Deux as Frank regularly slips into musical fantasies and the narrative frantically tries to juggle its many competing ideas.
Ida spent her adulthood earning a living by debasing herself for sleazy men who felt entitled to her humiliation because they were paying for her company. Though she doesn’t remember that part of her life, she does feel a residual need for independence and a desire to no longer let anyone dictate her actions. Becoming The Bride gives her the opportunity to speak her truth and retake her power.
Supporting her endeavour is an unlikely ally: Mary Shelley. Also played by Buckley, the Frankenstein author appears in black and white. She claims this is the sequel to her novel that was too risqué for her to publish in 1818. Mary possesses Ida and demands she revolt against everything holding her back. The effect is schizophrenic. As Mary spouts secrets and poetry in the middle of Ida’s sentences, it’s like someone is frenziedly switching between channels. Blinded by infatuation, Frank thinks its charming even if he doesn’t understand its source.
Ida and Frank are harmless monsters until they’re attacked. Ida writhes in a club as strobe lights underline each provocative movement and exploring hand. When the pair go to leave, two men try to rape her. It’s ugly and violent, marking a turning event in the film. When Frank defends her honour with an old-fashioned curb stomping, they become fugitives.
After more than 100 years on Earth, Frank learns the nature of men do not change. Over time, he learns to accept his grotesqueness and the impossibility of ever being a part of society. But he worships Ida and refuses to let anyone treat her the way they treat him. Notably, when Ida recovers from the shock of her reinvigoration, she’s not repulsed by Frank’s appearance. Instead, she’s taken aback by his social awkwardness. Thus, their love story is built on accepting each other as they are — him with his scars and dim wit, and her with her inkblots and bizarre outbursts.
As Ida becomes more emboldened and self-possessed, she adopts the mantra, “I prefer not to.” She will no longer conform to the world of men. While Frank is the initial focus of her rejection, she gradually realizes he doesn’t belong to that world either — even if he desperately wants to.
When Ida makes her declaration publicly, she inspires a feminist revolution. Women everywhere mimic her blackened lips and stained cheek, reclaiming their power. However, its intensity feels superficial. Her gun-toting imitators terrorize men, but there’s no direction to their wrath.
In the meantime, Frank obsesses over silver screen star Ronnie Reed (Jake Gyllenhaal). He watches all his musicals, especially when he’s feeling overwhelmed or depressed. Reed represents everything Frank is not: he’s overcome a disability, is handsome, light on his feet and charismatic. Consequently, he often imagines himself in Reed’s tap-dancing shoes, culminating in a fever dream set to “Puttin’ on the Ritz.” In spite of the escapism it provides, his idolization of the actor is sad in its profound contrast to his own life.
If The Bride is punk, Frank is the strait-laced guy that doesn’t look the part. She isn’t going to be Frank’s dream woman, but she might be willing to forge something never seen before with him at her side.
Director: Maggie Gyllenhaal
Starring: Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale and Annette Bening
