When a movie stars performers as gifted as Christian Bale and Jessie Buckley, and is written and directed by someone as interesting as Maggie Gyllenhaal, expectations are naturally high. Unfortunately, The Bride ends up being one of those films where the ambition is clear, the craftsmanship is often impressive, but the final result is a frustrating, deeply messy experience.
Gyllenhaal’s film reimagines the world of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, centering on Bale’s lonely monster—referred to as Frank in the film—who has wandered the world for over a century without real human connection. Early on, there’s a poignant moment where he remarks that shaking someone’s hand is the first human touch he’s had in more than a hundred years. It’s a compelling setup: a tragic creature desperate for companionship.
Enter Dr. Euphornius, played by Annette Bening, who helps bring a woman named Ida back from the dead. Ida—soon to become the titular Bride—is played by Buckley. From there, the film attempts to follow the unlikely partnership between Frank and the newly resurrected Bride as they stumble through a strange world that doesn’t understand them.
In theory, it’s a fascinating premise. In execution, the movie is all over the place.
The biggest stumbling block is Buckley’s performance. It’s so odd and erratic that it becomes distracting almost immediately. The character frequently has bizarre outbursts, shifts in accent, and surreal inner visions that interrupt the narrative. Instead of feeling haunting or psychologically revealing, these moments often come across as unintentionally comedic. By the end of the film, scenes that seem intended to be dramatic or profound start eliciting laughter simply because of how awkward they feel.
The film also introduces several side plots that never fully come together. Jake Gyllenhaal appears as Ronnie Reed, a movie star whom Frank idolizes for his charm and romantic on-screen persona. There’s also a mob subplot involving a crime boss and Ida’s past life before her resurrection. These threads are introduced with some intrigue but ultimately feel half-developed, leaving the story scattered and unsatisfying.
Another element that feels oddly forced is the police storyline featuring Penélope Cruz and Peter Sarsgaard as detectives pursuing the pair. Cruz is always a compelling screen presence, and Sarsgaard is perfectly solid, but the material they’re given feels undercooked and clumsily inserted into the story. Much of the subplot revolves around the idea that Cruz’s character isn’t taken seriously by the male officers around her. The film returns to this point repeatedly—including a late sequence with a room full of dismissive male cops—and it’s all handled with such a heavy hand that it feels less like character development and more like another messy narrative thread the movie doesn’t know what to do with.
What’s especially frustrating is that glimpses of a much better movie appear throughout The Bride. One sequence at a nightclub—where the Bride dances while Frank experiences something close to joy—suddenly shifts into a brutal confrontation when two men attempt to assault her. Frank finally unleashes his rage, and the moment is shocking, violent, and compelling. For a brief stretch, the film hints at a darker, more focused story about two monsters on the run—a twisted Bonnie-and-Clyde dynamic. It’s exactly the kind of bold direction that might have worked.
But those moments are fleeting.
Instead, the movie drifts through long stretches of shouting, chaotic character beats, and narrative threads that never quite connect. The pacing drags, and the tone swings wildly from gothic drama to surreal character study to crime story without ever finding its footing.
And yet, for all its problems, the film is not without merit. Visually, it’s often striking. The production design, costumes, and cinematography show real craft and ambition. Certain set pieces—particularly the dance sequences—are beautifully staged. You can see the money on screen, and you can see the artistic intent behind it.
That’s what makes the failure so frustrating.
With a reported budget around $90 million and a cast this strong, The Bride feels like a massive swing that never quite connects. It’s messy, overlong, and frequently cringe-inducing—but also clearly the product of someone trying to do something bold rather than safe.
In an era dominated by endless sequels, reboots, and franchise installments, there’s at least something admirable about a studio like Warner Bros. giving a filmmaker the resources to make a strange, risky movie like this. Even if it doesn’t work, it’s arguably more interesting than another piece of franchise filler.
Still, admiration for the attempt can only go so far. At the end of the day, The Bride is the kind of movie where you find yourself checking the time, waiting for it to end, and wondering how something with so much talent involved turned out this unfocused.
Verdict: A visually impressive but chaotic misfire that wastes an incredible cast and struggles to justify its ambition. For many audiences, The Bride may very well end up being the worst movie they see in theaters this year.
The Bride! = 49/100