The Bride (2026)

Director/Writer: Maggie Gyllenhaal

Starring: Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Penelope Cruz, Annette Benning, Peter Saarsgard

***

It’s late and I’ve just got back from a viewing of The Bride! I took my partner and my 1940s screenwriter. My partner has already sloped off, to leave us gals to talk. (He used “gals” ironically. He knows it is International Women’s Day.) The screenwriter pours us both a whisky. She offers me a cigarette. I refuse. “I’d prefer not to,” I say. I take a slug of the cheap bourbon and it hits the back of my throat.

“Did you like it?” I ask.

“I loved it.”

“#metoo.” I reply. The screenwriter is confused by my syntax. I don’t have the patience to explain the whole #metoo movement, so instead, I ask, “What did you like best?”

“Tell me the name of that actress.”

“Jessie Buckley.”

“She was magnificent. She was wild, exuberant, strong. I liked her moxie. I liked the way she’d bleached her eyebrows. Made her look like a demonic Jean Harlow.”

“She was fierce,” I agree.

“So, what did you like about the film?” The screenwriter asks.

I know I’m about to gush as a second slug of whisky hits my stomach and loosens my tongue.

“I liked that women’s rage was shown to be monstruous and powerful. I liked how there was a female scientist and a female detective, who got on with their jobs and were better than the men.”

“Yes, that was good,” the screenwriter replies. “I liked how the matinee idol was made to cower. How he whimpered apologetically. How he was asked directly if he had done something wrong. I’ve met a few of those putzes. I liked how it walked the fine line between revenge and justice.”

“All of that,” I agree, “And I liked the song and dance routines that showed how cinema can transport you. Can take your troubles away while putting on the ritz.”

More whisky.

I whisper, “I don’t want to sound trivial, but is it okay to say I also loved the way the costumes moved and the frenzied make-up?”

“Sure,” the screenwriter is not as drunk as me.

“I mean it’s a really clever script. It’s not scared of vocabulary and testing the audience. There’s both a celebration of Hollywood and a satire of it. It looks like Top Hat, and Young Frankenstein, and the Bride of Frankenstein and Bonnie and Clyde all at the same time. And they look so stylish as they go on their murder spree.”

“Yes, kid.” The screenwriter is nodding along with me. She takes a drag on her cigarette. “Ida, going after Mr Lupino. I liked that a reference to another female director.”

“And Christian Bale as Frank. You might miss him because Jessie is so wild and explosive, but he’s so vulnerable, bewildered by his violence.” I smile, “He did look a bit like Ted Danson, though.” I laugh at my own observation.

The screenwriter sighs, “I don’t know who that is. So, are you going to give it five stars?”

“Oh,” I sit back, “I don’t really give five stars. I’d prefer not to.” I hesitate and then I add, “It is definitely getting four stars, but thinking about it all now, I realise I never had time to sit back and relax or reflect. Just not enough space to really think. I didn’t like the way the skull cracked on the kerb.”

There is still whisky in my glass and I keep talking. “I like this,” I say raising my glass, “I like how we’re sitting here together, drinking, the air getting smoky and we’re just talking. Like this is friendship and fun. But sometimes alcohol, it makes us fragile and vulnerable. Bad people try to suck the joy out of our lives when we’re like that. Like Ida at the beginning of the film.”

I can hear that I’m tearing up. “I liked the way the people didn’t get away with being monsters and the monsters showed us how to be people.”

I say this like it’s the cleverest thing anyone has ever said. The screenwriter has one eyebrow raised. She stubs out the lipstick stained cigarette and taps her fingers on the table.

“I think you should stop drinking, now.” She says it kindly, but with an authoritative edge.

“I’d prefer not to,” I say and grab the bottle, “I’d prefer not to.”

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