From Warner Bros.:
A lonely “Frank” travels to 1930s Chicago to ask groundbreaking scientist Dr. Euphronious to create a companion for him. The two revive a murdered young woman and The Bride is born. What ensues is beyond what either of them imagined: Murder! Possession! A radical cultural movement! And outlaw lovers in a wild and combustible romance!
In the third episode of the first season of Girls (HBO, 2012-2017), the lead character of the show, Hannah Horvath (played by its creator Lena Dunham), contracts HPV, a common sexually-transmitted disease, and attempts to track down which of her former partners gave it to her. Her journey eventually leads her to reconcile her relationship with her now gay half-of-college boyfriend Elijah, but that’s not relevant here.
Hannah’s friend Jessa (“friend” is debatable considering the rest of the show, but at this time they’re friends) tells her that “all adventurous women” have HPV. This empowers Hannah to accept her diagnosis, tweet the phrase, “All adventurous women do,” and, at the end of the episode, have a freeing white girl dance party with her roommate Marnie. Lena Dunham titled that episode “All Adventurous Women Do,” and it eventually became one of the show's most popular entries. I borrowed the title for this review because at the end of my press screening, I concluded that that’s how Maggie Gyllenhaal must’ve felt after finishing the screenplay for her new film, The Bride!
In The Bride! (the exclamation mark insists upon itself), we briefly meet Ida (Jessie Buckley), an argumentative, brash escort who, after being inhabited by the spirit of Mary Shelley, gets dragged out of a fancy dinner with mob bosses and pushed down a flight of stairs. Then, in 1936, we meet Frank (Christian Bale), Dr. Frankenstein's monster, who is in desperate need of a companion. He tracks down the renowned Dr. Euphronius (Annette Bening) and with her help, unknowingly digs up and "re-invigorates" Ida as his betrothed, to whom he gives the name Penelope. During a night on the town, though, Frank and Penelope are assaulted, leading Frank to violently murder both men and be caught on camera while doing so. They then start a Bonnie-and-Clyde/Queen-and-Slim on-the-run adventure, killing men and empowering women on the way.
It’s overwhelmingly apparent that she thought she did something, but what starts out as a fresh, punk remake of 1936’s Bride of Frankenstein AND a simultaneous metatextual adaptation of Mary Shelley’s original 1819 novel eventually becomes a sloppy hodgepodge of elementary approaches to interesting and important ideas.
Recently, Maggie Gyllenhaal did a red carpet interview where she noted that in the original Bride of Frankenstein film, the titular character only has two minutes of
screentime and no dialogue. In this film, Buckley's Bride has much more screentime and dialogue, but she has no arc. The way the story is set up, there’s no journey she has to go on. There's nothing that I felt she needed to change or learn. She was boisterous, loud, erratic, and at times, combative with men, but she was her own woman.
She’s stripped of a backstory by Gyllenhaal giving her amnesia, even as far as not remembering her name which becomes her only internal conflict. I understand that this forces her to rediscover herself but she’s never really given a chance as she’s always stuck in the context of men. She was revived without consent at the request of a man, an idea at which the film gestures heavily, but about which doesn't actually say anything meaningful.
She is repeatedly harrassed and assaulted, the purpose of which might be to establish villainy in the men - one instance is clearly played for laughs - but all it does is undermine her agency and womanhood. In almost every instance, it happens to her and it just becomes a part of who she is. Yes, revenge is enacted against most of the perpetrators, but most of that violence is done by Frank, the man, and the few acts of violence the Bride commits are incredibly tame compared to the events that begat them. The ending is also a culprit here too, but that would be too many spoilers. "Exploitative" might be the word.
Jessie Buckley is innocent, though. I think she is a fantastic, committed performer, and that is no different here. Her performance is VERY theater school, in that it's very physical, movement-based, and requires a kind of outsized commitment to the role to be believable. Luckliy, she's believable. Any issues I have with that character are only character-based. My only gripe is she has these Tourette's-like outbursts. I can't place that aspect as character or performance, but I personally didn't care for it as they amount to nothing (also unfortunate considering the cutural sensitivity around Tourette's right now).
I want to discuss Mary Shelley's involvement in this story as I feel like it's yet another example of an intriguing idea that doesn't go anywhere.
To my knowledge, the framing device of the original Bride of Frankenstein film is similar to this iteration in that Shelley is established as a kind of narrator and she is played by the same actress as that of the Bride (in the original film, Elsa Lanchester, and in this film, Buckley). What I find interesting about this version is that Shelley seems to be having more of a one-on-one dialogue with the Bride, inhabiting her and acting as a sort of conscience.
I like the idea of the protagonist communicating with the author of the source material to coax out the version of this character she wanted to write... but it goes nowhere. Near the halfway mark, Shelley as a character and narrator disappears and doesn't show up again for (what feels like) another hour. I love when films become "meta" and self-referential, and I think there was an opportunity to at least posit what Shelley might've actually felt about her story or even its adaptations, but the ball got dropped.
Christian Bale's performance as Frank is committed as well, but it's almost the kind of thing we've come to expect from Bale. What peeves me about Frank, though, is I felt his arc to be stronger and clearer than the Bride's! He's set up as a man overwheled by his loneliness, and though he overcomes this by the creation of the Bride, his story becomes about the internal conflict of lying to this woman so he can be in love. It is through this love, though, that he changes as a man. Maggie Gyllenhaal also tries to insert a treatise on the power of cinema in his storyline through his obsession with a musical actor played by Jake Gyllenhaal, but that aspect is also undercooked. In ways, he feels more like a protagonist than she does. He incites everything, and by the end, he's the one who has changed.
I think Writer Maggie and Director Maggie need to have a conversation and make sure they’re on the same page. They both have huge ideas but I don't think either one worked with the other to comminucate them here. In Gyllenhaal's first film, The Lost Daughter, her writing prowess, specifiaclly, shines. The mystery crafted around Buckley and Olivia Colman's characters (they play older/younger versions of the same character) is so enticing, and the performances from them and the rest of the company reflect it. That film also feels incredibly sure of itself, tonally.
Here, the film doesn't feel like it knows what it wants to be because Gyllenhaal has it try to be too many things. The dance sequences - one major and a few small - are notable (it almost feels like the film wants to be a muscial), but they serve no purpose other than to say "she's liberated" (though it never feels that way). She includes almost-powerful montages of revolutionaries rioting, but ruined by them shouting on-the-nose chants, “REVOLT,” and, “BRAIN ATTACK,” as if the audience can’t see what they’re doing. She includes monologues that have Buckley scream "RAGE," and while you understand its roots, she gives her character no real catharsis. What it boils down to is this: if you're going to be BOLD, be bold all-around.
I will say, it had me in the first half. The introduction of all of these ideas intrigued me to varying degrees. The anachronisms of the story, i.e. the punk styling, design, score, etc., were incredibly creative and, I thought, exist in nice contrast to Emerald Fennell's recent film, "Wuthering Heights" (podcast here) where the anachronism was not taken far enough. I'm a sucker for a dance sequence in a film, tap dancing in particular, so all of that was a welcome surprise, and as previously stated, Buckley, Bale, and the Mary Shelley character all started out working for me. The film is well-shot, as well. The cracks still showed, but I was ready for the R-rated Cruella, female Joker vibes that this was gearing up to exude (it even borrows Joker's cinematographer and composer).
Maybe if the film had more of a tragic ending, there would've been a stronger commentary on the oppressive patriarchy, but it doesn't, leaving the second half to flail around and lead to nothing as the film abruptly devolves into 2012 white women Tumblr feminism (the newspaper headings in the riot scene...).
I think this would have gagged during the Obama administration. Barbie (2023, dir. Greta Gerwig) only got away with it because it's a film about a children's toy, was marketed to children and teens, and thus required a more entry-level explanation. This film, being R-rated and targeted for adults, doesn't get that pass from me. Feminism and female rage is an absurdly important, complex, nuanced theme that by now, in 2026, deserves a complex, nuanced exploration, not this surface-level, male-centered, pussy hat (no shade), "it's time to boss up," "GIRL RRRRIOT!" hashtag feminism that feels stuck 14 years in the past. If The Bride! came out during the time of Girls as it feels like it should have, Hannah Horvath would tweet about it and EYE would retweet, but in a time where we are in desperate need of true radicalism in art, The Bride! represents a half-baked attempt that is nowhere near as radical as it (and its author) thinks it is.
The last thing I'll say is this: In the film, there is a female detective character, played by Penélope Cruz, whose entire setup and only real conflict comes from the fact that nobody thinks she is a detective because she's a woman. In the third act, there's an eye-rolling payoff to this subplot, after which, only one woman in my audience, presumably white, applauded and cheered. I think that's exactly what Gyllenhaal & co. wanted to have happen and it feels like they want it too bad. I understand that I am a man that is into men and thus have no connection to the experience of a woman, so if it's just that I missed something, if this movie affirms you and you feel the need to applaud and cheer, go right ahead. Hannah Horvath would. All adventurous women do.
Viewed on 3/2/26 at press screening
Published on 3/4/26