The bolt of electricity that reanimated Frankenstein’s monster has, in one way or another, kept him alive more than two centuries after Mary Shelly’s Modern Prometheus first fascinated readers. Despite a myriad of filmic adaptations and interpretations, the current that zapped the timeless brute between life and death remains historically filtered through a stringent male gaze—even as his storied spouse takes centre stage. Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride! attempts to single-handedly tip the scales, clutching that very fluctuating energy to craft a markedly feminist crime yarn that’s both manic and marvelous.

Like its central couple, it’s a film of two distinct halves. One feminine, exuberant, and profound, and the other hulking, brutish, and dull. It’s an experience that feverishly jolts between moments of gorgeous grandeur and trite tedium. A fickle beast that, while narratively (and at times, thematically) incoherent, remains emotionally captivating. It’s a film meant to be felt and sensed, rather than grappled with or thought through. In that spirited vein, it calls us to experience its messy wonders like the undead lovers at its heart.

Opening with Mary Shelly (Jessie Buckley) herself, The Bride! radiates sound and fury as it transports us to 1930s Chicago, where Ida (also played by Buckley), an escort for the Italian mob, is in for a life-altering experience. When Shelly’s erudite and enraged spirit possesses her, she’s unceremoniously bumped off. Meanwhile, Frank (Christian Bale), tired of his isolated existence, arrives in the city and asks the famous Dr. Euphronius (Annette Bening) to create a companion for him.

Together, they exhume the murdered woman and give life to the titular bride. As the two grow closer, navigate growing pains, and ultimately become wanted by the authorities, they go on the run, Bonnie & Clyde style. With their various encounters sparking a desire in The Bride to carve an identity that can thrive and inspire on its own, rather than solely defined by her mythic companion.

Though before The Bride! can reach such enlightenment, Gyllenhaal’s film struggles to connect vibrant stylistic swings with cogent storytelling. A contrived, wasted mafia plotline gives way to an abrupt, tacked-on feminist revolt that’s not only stylized after Buckley’s ink-blotched and black-tongued maiden but recalls the shallowest qualities of The Joker (2019). Not to mention a stilted dynamic between detectives Jake Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard) and Myrna Mallow (Penelope Cruz), who are hot on the monstrous couple’s trail.

Nonetheless, The Bride! manifests as a pulpy phantasmagoria of sights and sounds, rife with sweeping vaudevillian dance numbers and gorgeous period detail that never take away from its intimate, deeply felt edge. Such unequivocal highpoints remain the product of the raucous, innate chemistry between Bale’s emotive mutant, who seamlessly transitions from a ghastly gentleman to a violently lovesick criminal, and Buckley’s split personality, who is both a synonym-spewing Shelly and a volatile new soul-in-the-making.

Much like its hearty, lovable duo, The Bride! is festering with scars, blemishes, and holes. But such imperfections become endearing in an experience that eschews the road more travelled. Sure, Gyllenhaal and company could have invested in a more traditional route, but like its defiant, undead heroine, it “would prefer not to.”

The Bride releases March 6th.