[MOVIE REVIEW]The Bride! tries to do too much

I arrived at the theater for my showing of The Bride! just as the previous show was letting out. As the door swung open and the audience filed out, I could hear Bobby Picket’s 1962 song Monster Mash from the inside.

And honestly, a “mash” is about right.

The Bride! was written and directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal, reimagined with inspiration drawing from the 1935 film The Bride of Frankenstein. It stars Jessie Buckley as its titular character alongside Christian Bale as Frankenstein’s monster.

In 1936 Chicago, a lonely Frankenstein’s Monster aka “Frank” (Bale) reaches out to scientist Cornelia Euphronius (Annette Bening), seeking to create a companion for himself. They successfully reanimate Ida (Buckley), recently killed at the hands of the criminal mob. What follows is a misadventure full of love, passion and lust, manipulation, murder, revenge, revolution, and self-discovery.

A far departure from its source material, the movie is enjoyable in some moments and a labored slog in others. Strong performances by the two leads anchor the film, but a plot that is as stitched together as the monster himself leaves the viewer with whiplash, falling somewhere on a Venn diagram that includes Frankenstein and Bonnie and Clyde.

It’s got horror, romance, sex, violence, crime, paranormal possession, feminism, and – would you believe it – even a dance number or two. And honestly, that’s what’s wrong with it.

Instead of a strong, coherent narrative, the story itself feels contrived; like a bunch of square pegs trying to simultaneously fit into the same round hole. Some plot points feel convenient, others rushed or barely resolved, if not entirely forgotten about.

The entire film felt like it was filled with ideas and plots that oozed with potential, only to fall flat because they were competing with one another.

One of its biggest misses is the inclusion of Mary Shelley (also played by Buckley), the original author of Frankenstein; or the Modern Prometheus. She opens the movie by monologuing on how she did not get to tell the story she desired to tell after Frankenstein, due to her failing health and ultimate death. Deciding to take matters into her own hands, she possesses Ida in order to tell that story.

In theory, the concept is intriguing. In execution, however, Mary Shelley feels more like a schizophrenic tick or - worse - Ida’s own version of Willem Defoe’s Green Goblin from Spider-Man.

As mentioned earlier, the film does have its moments of enjoyment, and visually its aesthetic is pleasing.

The chemistry between Bale and Buckley is palpable and sweet, and is the film’s biggest victory. Despite the inauthenticity it is built upon, there is an awkward charmingness between the two monsters, especially when comparing Ida’s more indulgent personality and Frank’s puppy-dog-eyed desire for classical love.

Still, the story feels clunky as a whole, as if everything was thrown against the wall and – unfortunately – every little bit stuck.

I imagine this movie will split the crowd, as I’m sure many will like it for its unapologetic edginess, bold themes, loud voice, and new creative spin. But for me, all those potential positives get lost in a sloppy hodgepodge; a film about identity that tries to be too many things at once.