Black Vomit

A strange anomaly will occur every decade or so when there are two films with identical premises released within quick succession of one another; 1997’s Volcano and Dante’s Peak, 1998’s Armageddon and Deep Impact, 2011’s Friends With Benefits and No Strings Attached, and 2013’s Olympus Has Fallen and White House Down are prominent examples. Licensing arrangements mean that these “twin films” aren’t usually based on the same source material, but Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein has been in the public domain for over a century. Last year saw the release of Guillermo del Toro’s Frankenstein, a bifurcated adaptation of the original novel that shared the Oscar-winning director’s signature love of practical effects and gothic stylization. Del Toro’s passion for supernatural creatures was simultaneously the film’s greatest strength and weakness; the half focused on Jacob Elordi’s creature was riveting and emotional, but Oscar Isaac was miscast as the haughty, self-absorbed Dr. Victor Frankenstein.

Del Toro’s film became a Netflix vehicle shortly after the streaming service departed its role as the distributor for The Bride!, a competing Frankenstein project directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal. Gyllenhaal’s second film behind the camera is essentially a sequel to a faithful Frankenstein origin story that doesn’t exist. The Bride! is set after Frankenstein’s monster (Christian Bale), who’s conveniently referred to by his creator’s name, has gone into hiding in Chicago of the 1930s. Although “Frank” (as he’s affectionately known) has no issue concealing himself behind tattered clothes whilst in public, he’s yearned for a partner to spend the rest of his life with. With the help of the surgeon Dr. Euphronious (Annette Bening), an expert in matters of the undead, Frank’s matched with the perfect mate in the recently murdered woman Ida (Jessie Buckley). It’s after she’s resuscitated that Ida is drawn to Frank in a road trip of mayhem and murder that attracts the attention of the authorities Detective Jake Wiles (Myrna Mallow) and his assistant, Myrna Mallow (Penelope Cruz).

There’s been many Frankenstein adaptations, but The Bride! is the first in which the monster openly complains about his libido and stews in the backseat of a movie theater. However, the juvenile comedy is less assaultive than the film’s framing device of black-and-white visions of the undead spirit of Mary Shelley (also played by Buckley), who’s offered the story of The Bride! as the secret sequel that the original novel was never allotted. The suggestion that Shelley couldn’t achieve her vision because sexism is less flagrant than the strange continuity of Buckley’s performance. While Buckley is cast as Ida, Shelley, and “the Bride,” their personalities only seem to merge when it's convenient for Gyllenhaal to insert another montage of her disorderly behavior.

The frequent allusions to 1930s gangster films make little sense when Frank and Ida are frequently involved in any social circles. The Bonnie & Clyde-esque anti-establishment themes aren’t effective when the couple’s anger is directed towards a fanciful pastiche of ‘30s America that’s less authentic than the James Cagney films Gyllenhaal has so frequently referenced. What’s most disappointing is that the production design, costumes, and makeup for The Bride! are all excellent, and were fashioned as a tribute to the era in which films were most central within American culture.

The Bride! isn’t a horror film as much as it’s a gross-out exercise; although it's diametrically opposed to commerciality in a way that’s almost admirable, the imagery of Frank lapping up his lover’s charred vomit doesn’t have any point beyond shock value. Some sympathy can be allotted to Frank and Ida, whose victims only include abusive men, but their romance is frustratingly vacant. Ida’s given no opportunity to reckon with being created solely for the desire of Frank, even if her death came at the hands of a corrupt underling of a local gangster. The Bride! offers a brand of feminism lifted from 2016; being volatile and self-assuredly brazen is seen as an accomplishment because a serious critique of class dynamics would be too challenging. Nothing’s more emblematic of the film’s antiquated politics than the empowering depiction of Mallow, whose morally upstanding defense of Ida would suggest that law enforcement can be redeemed by “one good cop.”

Gyllenhaal’s so enamored by aesthetics that there’s little direction given to her actors. Bale’s by far the best part of the film because his Frankenstein performance is silly and menacing; few Frankenstein films depict the monster adjusting to life among the mortals, and Bale’s incapable of not being completely committed. Buckley’s performance doesn’t share the same consideration because there’s little to distinguish the Bride from the living version of Ida, who’d made a public spectacle of herself in the moments before her death. Frank can’t be the monster because Ida’s love for him is sincere, but she’s immune to criticism because of the suggestion that all of her crimes were justified. It’s odd for an angry film to spend so little time directing its fury at individuals; even Wiles (played by Sarsgaard, Gyllenhaal’s real-life partner) isn’t as much a dirty cop as he’s a good guy who made some mistakes.

The film’s single musical sequence is a garish rendition of “Puttin’ On The Ritz” that makes little attempts to reference the influence of Young Frankenstein, perhaps because a majority of younger audiences wouldn’t be familiar with the Mel Brooks classic; Gyllenhaal also cast her brother, Jake, as the pompous lead of ‘30s romantic melodramas, even though he’s an actor much better suited for darker, internalized characters. The Bride! declares itself the definitive Frankenstein story, but spends the majority of its runtime chasing other influences. Del Toro’s film, though derivative, showed a desire to engage with Shelley’s themes that Gyllenhaal must’ve felt that she was above.