The Bride!

Last night I traveled an hour in each direction to see either this movie or EPiC (Baz Luhrman's documentary/concert film about Elvis) and at the moment of stepping up to the cashier, I plumped for this movie, primarily because it had an earlier showtime. Maggie Gyllenhaal wrote and directed this loose adaptation of Bride of Frankenstein, featuring presumptive soon-to-be Oscar winner for best actress Jessie Buckley (Hamnet) in the title role and Christian Bale as a Frankenstein's Monster who comes to Chicago sometime in the 1930s to ask a reanimator, played by Annette Bening, to jump-start a dead woman for him because he is perishing of loneliness. The corpse they happen to dig up is that of Ida, a mobster's moll who was possessed by the ghost of Mary Shelley when she took a fatal tumble down a flight of stairs, but the Bride doesn't remember any of that. She comes to vivid, shocking life, engaging in scandalous behavior, leading "Frank" on an interstate crime spree, and you know, trying to live out Laurel Thatcher Ulrich's dictum that "well-behaved women seldom make history."

It's a take on Bride of Frankenstein that takes its departure from the idea of Shelley as a woman of revolutionary talent who was robbed of her opportunity to push her mother's feminist ideology by her own early death from brain cancer. The ghost, manifesting through Ida/the Bride (sometimes going as Penny) in fits of British-accented literary wordplay, wants to get the story out so badly that it costs the girl her life. Kind of. She was also, kind of, rubbed out by the gangsters she ran with, including a revolting fellow named Lupino who collects the tongues of people he had silenced and who, in one scene, blithely shoots one of his stooges between the eyes, wipes a splash of blood off his cheek, and carries on eating lunch entirely undisturbed. But now, as the Bride, she has become the more flamboyant half of a cross-country murder spree duo, trailed by a none-too-diligent detective (Peter Sarsgaard) and his sharp-as-a-tack secretary (Penélope Cruz), who have spotted a pattern: The killings go wherever movies starring a certain smiling crooner and dancer (played in a bunch of movies-within-the-movie by Jake Gyllenhaal) are playing. Because, as you know, Frankenstein's monster is a big fan of musical comedy. Joking aside, there's a tender spot here that furnishes one of the film's tragic themes.

So, enough synopsis. Trust me, the paragraphs above don't come close to doing justice to this movie's storyline. It's just a taster of an astoundingly weird movie. It's definitely an original, if you'll pardon the contradiction with the plain fact that it's adapted from previous work. It's so unlike what I am accustomed to seeing at the movies that I frankly couldn't tell while I was seeing it, and still don't know, whether I liked it or not. It's either a brilliant movie despite significant flaws or a disaster with flashes of brilliance in it. Frank and the Bride each reveal facets of themesleves that touch me deeply, striking right to the heart. They also do some awful things and get involved in some icky scenes, at both ends of the high-low class spectrum. They can't seem to stop making horrific mistakes, bringing to mind the proverb, "No matter where you go, there you are." But they keep doing surprising things, too, like ... well, let's get to that in ...

Three Scenes That Made It For Me: (1) The monster couple crashes a tuxedos-and-champagne affair while dodging cops in New York City. Frank finds himself standing before Ronnie Reed, the movie star he is not very ambiguously in love with, declaring his feelings and experiencing soul-crushing rejection. In one scene, the movie shows its full range of tone, from the monster's heartbreaking vulnerability to an outrageous "brain attack" dance in which the reanimated couple leads a ballroom full of unwilling participants before concluding in a tense, armed standoff with police and a violent escape. (2) Frank tells the Bride the story of how he proposed to her. He's lying, of course. But it's the lie she desperately wants to hear because she has no memory of her life before "the accident." Her need is so touching, and his lies are so clever and entertaining, that you can almost but not quite dismiss the niggling note of doom that buzzes through the scene. (3) In a later scene that forms a matching pair with No. 2, Frank admits the truth to the Bride and actually proposes marriage to her in a moment that brings the tragedy of their romance to a shattering height.

It's a strange, strange movie. A lot of it is improbable to the point of absurdity. Some of it comes close to feeling like a hallucination. It has a fat streak of revolutionary feminist wish-fulfillment running through it (the "brain attack" spreads, you know), turning the corner into an alternate history where anything can happen and you just have to live with it. The monsters become the latest rage. The movies become a lifeline for a creature who, on one hand, has apparently lived for over a century and, on the other hand, really seems capable of dying of loneliness. It has Annette Bening playing a genius who can only be talked into violating every covenant of scientific ethics by the appeal, "I thought you were a mad scientist." It has Jake G. as an actor who, upon hearing that his cheerful screen persona saved a man from oblivion, laughs it off with a cruel put-down. It has a heavily accented Penélope Cruz as a character whose name, Myrna Malloy, is perhaps the most preposterous thing said aloud during the entire film. And all kinds of other stuff the surprise of which I wouldn't spoil for all the world. Still not sure whether I think it's a good movie or a bad movie, it's definitely a movie I'll be thinking about for some time to come.