I tried with this one. Yes, I wanted to like writer-director Maggie Gyllenhaal’s punked-put 2026 FRANKENSTEIN pastiche THE BRIDE!, which received a reception similar to that of JOKER: FOLIE A DEUX, which I enjoyed (fight me), but I’m afraid that simply wasn’t the case with THE BRIDE!
That the film flopped mightily should surprise no-one. It followed Guillermo Del Toro’s 2025 FRANKENSTEIN by less than four months, one of many bad decisions made by its financier/distributor Warner Bros. Others include a reported $90 million budget (far too substantial for what was essentially arthouse fare), the casting of the little known Jessie Buckley in the title role, and the decision to lean into “punk rock” posturing in the marketing, which, as Warner’s other 2026 release SUPERGIRL conclusively proved, was not a winning strategy.
The whole mess begins with the ghost of Mary Shelley (Buckley) claiming that for some reason she wasn’t able to write what she wanted to in FRANKENSTEIN, but now she’s finally ready to unleash “the motherfucking bride!” This occurs in Chicago of 1936, with Ida (Buckley again), a young woman who, Shelley informs us, is “in hell” because she’s supposed to be quiet and submissive. With the help of Shelley’s obliging spirit, Ida quickly attains her desired bearing: trashy and abrasive, in which state she takes a deadly tumble down a flight of stairs.
Enter Frankenstein’s stitched-up monster (Christian Bale), who turns up in the office of Dr. Cornelia Euphronious (Annette Bening). He requests she create a bride for him so he can get laid. They dig up Ida’s corpse and reanimate it with remarkable ease (going against Dr. Frankenstein’s methodology, which involved the creation of humanoid beings with sewn-together body parts), resulting in an undead Ida coming to with a black splatter of crystalloid solution on the right side of her mouth (a splat whose form changes from scene to scene). She proves to be quite the handful, rebelling against Euphronious’s society-imposed dictums with the refrain “I would prefer not to” (which originated with Herman Melville, and so, like most everything else in this film, isn’t at all original)She and “Frank” quickly escape the confines of Euphronious’s office.
They head for a punk rock happening (who knew there were such things in 1936?), complete with strobe lighting and a head bashing. Both elements are on loan from IRREVERSIBLE (2002), which gives way to another blatant influence: BONNIE AND CLYDE (1967), with the Bride and Frank embarking on a cross-country crime spree and killing lots of people, including a cop whose tongue the Bride forcibly extracts.
Gyllenhaal’s influences come to include NATURAL BORN KILLERS (1994), with our none-too-dynamic duo becoming heroes to dissatisfied women, who imitate the Bride’s look and mannerisms. The earlier, and for more notable, FRANKENSTEIN pastiche YOUNG FRANKENSTEIN (1974) is likewise referenced in a Frank led “Puttin’ on the Ritz” dance-a-thon.
Frank and the Bride’s exploits attract the attention of a pair of PDs, played by Penelope Cruz and Gyllenhaal’s hubbie Peter Sarsgaard. The latter, we learn, had a past dalliance with Ida, and essentially essays the Harvey Keitel role in THELMA AND LOUISE (1991): an authority figure who’s unaccountably sympathetic to the heroine, which does nothing to reverse her tragic (albeit entirely appropriate) fate.
Modern day anachronisms are scattered throughout THE BRIDE!, culminating in the title character intoning “Me too!” With that in mind, it may be wrong to complain about the consistently unconvincing period detail, but it is a constant annoyance. Gyllenhaal’s unsteady grasp of 1930s pop culture is evidenced by her attempts at aping the musical cinema of the of time, with Gyllenhaal’s brother Jake doing a thoroughly unconvincing Fred Astaire imitation, and by the fact that the word “fuck” is uttered with extreme regularity by the cast. The major inspiration, outside the aforementioned IRREVERSABLE, BONNIE AND CLYDE and NATURAL BORN KILLERS, appears to have been POOR THINGS (2023), but THE BRIDE!’s undistinguished handheld camerawork makes for a woefully inadequate substitute for the earlier film’s widely celebrated visual brilliance.
Christian Bale’s Frank is an especially crummy addition to a sorry line-up of substandard Frankenstein’s monsters. Outside a broken nose, his appearance fails to justify the horrified reactions people in this film all have to him, with Frank inspiring neither horror nor sympathy, being, simply, a wimp.
As the title character, Jessie Plemons was evidently supposed to be the height of cool. She has a striking look, admittedly, but that look doesn’t offset the constant mumbled dialogue or the obnoxiousness of a character that epitomizes poast-2020 Hollywood’s idea of femininity, which is synonymous with slovenliness.
Nor does the Bride’s appearance excuse the non-love story at the film’s center, with the character constantly belittling her beloved–her final words to him: “I’m not anybody’s bride” (said after demanding to be called the Bride). A concluding line of dialogue likens the proceedings to ROMEO AND JULIET, but the comparison doesn’t hold water, with one part of this supposedly star-crossed couple being too narcissistic and annoying, the other too weak, and the film overall a bust.
Vital Statistics
THE BRIDE!
Warner Bros.
Director: Maggie Gyllenhaal
Producers: Maggie Gyllenhaal, Emma Tillinger Koskoff, Osnat Handelsman Keren, Talia Kleinhendler
Screenplay: Maggie Gyllenhaal
Cinematography: Lawrence Sher
Editing: Dylan Tichenor
Cast: Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Peter Sarsgaard, John Magaro, Jeannie Berlin, Annette Bening, Jake Gyllenhaal, Penelope Cruz, Zlatko Buric, Louis Cancelmi, Julianne Hough, Matthew Maher