Christian Bale's Frankenstein monster looks oddly appropriate in the bizarre The Bride. Finding himself in early 20th century Chicago, he appeals to Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening) about reviving a female corpse for him, to deprive him of the eternal loneliness. When a body of a recently murdered woman (Jessie Buckley, fresh from her Hamnet success) turns up, the new un-dead couple roam the 1930s America as a Bonnie and Clyde/Natural Born Killers types; at first, murdering out of necessity, and later, turning into the hunted.
Maggie Gyllenhaal's The Bride is a bigger movie than its limited release would suggest. Having cost a reported $90 million, it's a wonder how anyone approved it, provided it still remains unclear as to whom its audience was supposed to be. Tonally, the film fluctuates (a crime drama? a monster movie? a zombie romance?), and despite having some entertaining moments, it still lasts too long, and ends with a whimper, instead of a bang. Ambitious Hollywood failures are a thing, and The Bride falls within that regrettable trope.
☆☆
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