The 1985 film The Bride stands out as a curious entry in the Universal Monster canon, despite having a legitimate budget and wide theatrical release. Unlike many low-budget horror films from the era, it remains largely forgotten in genre circles even as Maggie Gyllenhaal’s recent feminist reinterpretation brings new attention to Bride of Frankenstein. This earlier version was notable for its distinctive production design and an unusual cast including Clancy Brown as Frankenstein’s monster, Jennifer Beals of Flashdance fame as the undead female lead, and Sting taking on the role of Doctor Frankenstein in a strangely theatrical performance. However, The Bride’s identity diverges sharply from traditional horror, making it an odd curiosity among Universal’s cinematic legacy.
A Gothic Premise That Quickly Turns Unconventional
The film’s opening sequence closely follows the expected Frankenstein mythos, presenting the creation of a female creature as the impatient original monster looks on. The laboratory is filled with genre staples like Jacob’s ladders discharging electricity, a deformed assistant played by Timothy Spall, and an intense lightning storm culminating in a brief, eerie moment where electricity animates disembodied heads in jars. This striking Gothic imagery sets an elaborate tone but misleads the audience, for the rest of the film drifts away from classic horror into a blend of Gothic romance, buddy comedy, and period drama.
A Lost Opportunity to Center the Female Creature
Franc Roddam’s film struggles with the character of Eva, the Bride herself, who remains peripheral throughout. The lack of focus on her may stem from skepticism about Jennifer Beals’ acting shortly after Flashdance, underscored by her nomination for a 1985 Razzie award. However, the film shows little genuine interest in Eva’s character beyond surface-level development. Sting’s Doctor Frankenstein overshadows her, with a notably awkward and grandiose performance that draws more cringe than intrigue. The result is a story that fails to respect its female lead as anything beyond a plot device, leaving Eva underwritten and unable to fully engage the viewer.
A Fragmented Plot Divided Between Two Leads
The plot operates like two parallel stories that barely intersect. One thread follows Eva under Doctor Frankenstein’s control, who attempts to groom her for high society despite her unpredictable “monster” outbursts such as inexplicable cat-screaming fits. The other focuses on Clancy Brown’s Frankenstein monster, who survives the lab’s destruction and transforms into a wandering knight errant named Viktor. Alongside his companion, the dwarf Rinaldo (David Rappaport), Viktor embarks on adventures that lead them into a corrupt traveling circus, where they rise in the ranks and become framed for murder. This storyline dominates much of the film’s runtime and features the strongest performances, highlighting themes of rejection and social injustice more compellingly than the Bride’s neglected narrative.
Disconnected Characters and Unfulfilled Narrative Threads
The division between Eva’s story and Viktor’s adventures is so stark that the two characters share only one brief encounter near the film’s end, without revealing their true identities to each other. An attempt to hint at a psychic connection between them is introduced but quickly abandoned, leaving an unresolved subplot that feels like an unfinished or excised part of the screenplay. This fractured storytelling undermines the cohesion of the film, making it difficult to stay invested in either character’s journey fully.
Screenwriter’s Attempt at a Feminist Perspective Falls Flat
Lloyd Fonvielle, who would later contribute to the 1999 The Mummy, appears to strive for a feminist reinvention of the Bride through the film’s portrayal of Eva and Doctor Frankenstein’s dynamic. However, the effort is clumsily executed, largely by painting Frankenstein as a pompous, sexist, and violent figure from whom the audience is meant to sympathize with Eva’s plight. Rather than empowering Eva, this makes Frankenstein the villain in an unimaginative way, lacking nuance or subtlety.
I might make the new woman,
he declares to a friend, describing his intent to shape Eva’s personality.
Independent, free, as bold and proud as a man. A woman equal to ourselves.
His friend responds with ridicule.
This rhetoric exposes Frankenstein’s chauvinism disguised as progressive ideas, as he does not genuinely want Eva to be free or equal, but a compliant ornament. His revelation that Eva was originally created to mate with the original monster but was deemed “fit for finer things” further cements his patronizing attitude. “Finer things” here implies himself and his own selfish desires. His attempts to “teach her to love” involve threats and intimidation, culminating in his confusion and anger when Eva rejects his advances and control.
Final Confrontation and Missed Thematic Potential
In the closing minutes, Viktor returns to confront and kill Frankenstein, symbolizing the triumph of the original monster over the flawed scientist. This climactic resolution enacts the familiar “Who’s the real monster?” trope but lacks moral depth, since Frankenstein’s character is portrayed simply as a villain without much complexity. Meanwhile, Eva remains sidelined, denying the film the chance to explore her transformation or perspective in a meaningful way.
Ultimately, The Bride earns its place as a shallow retelling that fails to balance its horror roots with character-driven drama. Its divided narrative and uneven tone make it less memorable than other adaptations, including Roger Corman’s 1990 Frankenstein Unbound. For genre enthusiasts and scholars tracing the evolution of Universal Monsters, this film functions mainly as an odd footnote rather than a rediscovered classic.
