The Bride!

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride! is a work of punk-rock feminism that wraps its subversion in Brechtian layers of meta and extratextual inspiration. Any movie that features Christian Bale dressed up as Boris Karloff’s 1931 version of Frankenstein’s monster, only to have him dance to Irving Berlin’s 1929 song “Puttin’ On the Ritz” in an homage to Mel Brooks’ Young Frankenstein (1974), demands some attention. And then there’s Jessie Buckley, who gives fiery dual performances as both author Mary Shelley and the titular character, often at the same time. Together, Buckley and Bale cause a ruckus in 1930s America, like Bonnie and Clyde, except with more stitches and electricity. To call the film unconventional would be an understatement. And that’s just what Gyllenhaal is after: an embrace of outsiders and true originals who, fueled by social outrage and imagination, stand in proud defiance of patriarchal norms. The Bride! is a messy, not altogether successful experiment, but it’s nonetheless admirable for its instant boldness and transgressive energy.

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