The Bride!

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Written and directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal, starring Jessie Buckley, Christian Bale, Annette Benning, Penélope Cruz, Peter Sarsgaard

A recurring complaint in criticism is the lack of originality in cinemas. Whatever one’s overall feeling about Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride!, the uniqueness of the film is not in question.

Sold in the marketing as both adaptation of the 1818 novel Frankenstein (indeed, Gyllenhaal shares her screenwriting credit with author Mary Shelly) and remake of 1935’s Bride of Frankenstein (oft lauded as the greatest of all the “Universal Monster Movies”), in truth the film is neither. It is very much its own, unique, wild, almost indefinable monster. ‘Inspired by’ may be a more apt, if less marketable description of this: a historic, gothic-horror, crime, romance, road-trip, feminist, black dramedy musical.

Jessie Buckley stars as the title character – a woman brought back from the dead in 1936 at the behest of Christian Bale’s “Frank”, the original Frankenstein monster now pining for a companion who is like himself. This woman is also possessed (periodically) by the spirit of Mary Shelly herself, who narrates aspects of the film, and can influence others in her vicinity when the needs arises. Returned without memories of her own, this Bride sets out with Frank to build a life but must repeatedly contend with misogyny and abuse at the hands of men. As her (and Shelly’s) anger grows the couple hit the road on a Bonnie-and-Clyde type crime spree. Any effort to recap or summarise the story will, frankly, make it seem incomprehensible, and ultimately the film is less concerned with narrative than with atmosphere, attitude and vibe.

The Bride! is a melting pot of inspirations and ideas in which the connective tissue to the original sources can be found, but ultimately do not infuse the Big Ideas of the film, apart from the obvious “mad scientist brings corpse back to life through psuedo-science alchemy”. Gyllenhaal very clearly comments on the cultural landscape regarding abuse of women, and has found in Shelly’s work a launching pad for something of a cinematic primal scream. While these ideas and the attitude of the film along with some pretty great production design (the title character looks perfect in her ‘imperfections’) are all definitely interesting, they never really coalesce into a clear narrative. Put more simply, the movie certainly feels as though Gyllenhaal wants to “say something”, but any message gets lost in the chaos.

That chaos can be a great deal of fun. Buckley unhinges herself in the best possible way and is a magnetic presence on screen. Bale may once again be the MVP, committing completely and utterly to the pitiful and simultaneously monstrous…well, Monster, while continually directing his and the audiences attention to the object of his affections, The Bride. There is a gleeful sense of freedom in following the couple on their escalating crime spree which revels in crime-genre staples (the couple indulges in champagne, caviar and fur-coats) and when the musical numbers hit, once getting past the initial question “where did this come from?” they are energetic and fun.
With the exception of Benning’s absurdly/incredibly named Dr. Cornelia Euphronious who is a delight in her mad scientist role, and Jeannie Berlin as her live-in maid who has an amusingly cantakerous relationship with her employer (and perhaps partner?), none of the other characters are given room in the film to develop. While much time is given to soaking in the central pair’s “life to the full” montage, story beats that are supposed to be driving the narrative go unexplored and underexplained, leaving a sense that the film is just leaping from scene to scene. The conceit of Shelly as a possessing spirit/force and narrator/manipulator might have been intended to account for the “random” moments, but itself is poorly defined and creates confusion as to exactly who and what is driving the story and making decisions.

If this hits with an cult crowd in the years to come, more power to it. The appeal of a given film can be any number of factors, like aesthetics, music and even collections of moments that might not gel as a whole, but each make their own cumulative impact. The Bride! owes more to arthouse sensibilities than anything else, and while it might not be an enduring classic, it is insane and wonderful that a film like this came to screens in the year 2026.


On a personal note…

As I departed the cinema that night, the attendant asked me “How was it?”

After a beat to think, my answer was “…It’s my kind of weird.”

The Cinéquarium – 24 June 2026

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If you’ve woken up and your screen fell on the ground and randomly opened to this page and you’ve got some space in the day and were thinking ‘Maybe I could catch a movie’…this is what’s new this week (in Australia at least).

Supergirl – James Gunn’s Superman (2025) was a surprisingly solid hit last year, so there’s a bit riding on this – the first real follow up in the “DC Universe” franchise – from Dumb Money (2023) director Craig Gillespie. Kara Zor-El (or Supergirl, played by Milly Alcock of House of the Dragon) heads out for an intergalactic birthday bender with the scene-stealing secret weapon of the previous film: Krypto the superdog. The super-powered party-gal ends up facing off against assorted alien jerks that get on her nerves, including a rebranded Jason Momoa as perhaps DC Comics most ridiculous superhero-adjacent character, Lobo (which is not at all pejorative and is honestly perfect casting). With a screenplay by Ana Nogueira (her first major film project) and overseen by Gunn as the creative head of the franchise, expect this one to be a fairly good time for the university aged crowd.

Minions & Monsters – Hitting just before the school holidays is the next installment in the Despicable Me franchise, focusing on the titular jaundiced, gibbering, goggle-adorned, helpfully inept and ever-loyal cash-machines. Set in 1920’s Hollywood the Minions find themselves making a monster movie, only to unleash an all too real terror into the world. With voice talent including Zoey Deutch, Bobby Moynihan, Cristoph Waltz, Allison Janney, Jesse Eisenberg, Jeff Bridges, Phil LaMarr, Trey Parker in a rare non South Park role and apparently George Lucas (…!), regular series director Pierre Coffin (also the voice of the Minions) and Patrick Delage are on hand to bring this one to the box office. The kids are guaran-damn-teed to find it hilarious.

Jackass: Best and Last – It’s astonishing how endearing a group of friends that became rich and famous by repeatedly attacking one another’s testicles have become. The progenitor of pretty much all prank shows whether live, televised or streamed, Jackass was a generational touchstone when it first came to screens, then dumbfounded critics when their cinematic efforts proved to be not only profitable with juvenile audiences, but actually possessed of artistic merit (exemplified in Jackass: Forever). The boys are promising that this will be the last time they will do exceptionally stupid and dangerous stunts for entertainment, and director Jeff Tremaine has undoubtedly covered the entire ordeal in excruciating detail, but expect a touch of melancholy and rumination on the realities of growing old, and the loss of the ability to withstand a cattle prod to the rectum.

Dear You – For those of the indie/arthouse/international film crowd, this Chinese family drama comes from filmmaker Hongchun Lan (who co-wrote the screenplay) and features a cast of largely first time performers. Something of a culturally significant project, the dialogue is entirely in a regional dialect, Teochew (rather than more globally accessible Mandarin or Cantonese), as the unfolding narrative ponders how ex-patriots remain connected to the places that they may have fled. Facing financial ruin, a young man sets out to find his grandfather, who had for some time sent letters with support money for the family (Qiaopi) after fleeing to Thailand to escape military conscription. Unburdened by famous faces, these are the kind of films that can be deeply transportive experiences.

The Mandalorian – Chapter 13 “The Jedi”

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…Grogu?

Huh.

Ok then.

Oh…’spoilers’, I guess.

So we’re well into the second season of “The revitalisation of the Star Wars franchise”, and while there’s much about this episode that I can be invested in, I have to admit to a slight sense of anxiety that The Mandalorian is starting to tread into the dreaded territory of “continuity”. Of course I get that Star Wars is a grand and sweeping mythos, and that much of the love of fans for the franchise is tied up in how connected the ongoing saga has become over the course of film, television, books and comics. The idea that something I watched or read twenty years ago might pay off in the story as I engage with it now is a wondrous, almost magical tie to the earliest experience of the franchise. But, as I said before, I’m tired of Star Wars being bound – shackled – by the obsessive need to tie everything together. It means, in an entire universe full of worlds and characters, we end telling the story of like, three people. It takes the magic out of it all.

To whit: in this episode, Mando seeks out and meets a character that featured significantly in The Clone Wars, and has strong ties to the central figures of the series. Asokha Tano (wonderfully played by Rosario Dawson) has set herself against a despotic military governor. When Mando comes to the compound looking for the Jedi, he first meets Morgan Elsbeth, who attempts to hire him to take out Tano. Like many of these set-ups in the series, this is little more than the means to connect the characters, to once again give an opportunity for Mando to ply his skills and code in the service of those who can’t defend themselves.

By this point, if you’re sticking with the series, it’s because you appreciate the things it does well. Mercenary escapades that are tense, thrilling and still have a slight edge – because the only fixtures of the series are the titular Mandalorian and The Child, there is a genuine question as to whether guest characters will make it through the conflict.

Where this episode walks the line between the show being it’s own thing and being interwoven with Star Wars mythology is in the interactions between The Child and Asokha Tano. A well-established Jedi refers to Yoda by name, and is able to communicate with The Child finally unveiling some of the cute little tykes shrouded past.

Also, he has a name. Doubt anyone’s going to use it, but anyway.

Why this works well is that it serves to strengthen the connection between Mando and The Child. It results in ultimately another quest that will force Mando to continue his journey, but that is the whole point of the series. If anyone wants to complain that the show repeats itself, they need to take aim at most television in existence.

A shout out goes to the fabulous Michael Bien guesting as a hired gun to the crooked governor. It’s a thankless role, but he gets one moment in which he brings the world-weary charm that he does so well.

As it stands, The Mandalorian is still the best thing connected to Star Wars in decades, and I’m not going anywhere as long as Jon Favreau is in the saddle.

In honour of David Prowse – I Am Your Father (2015)

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I Am Your Father

Year: 2015

Written and Directed by Toni Bestard & Marcos Cabota

I am young enough that while Star Wars is ever-present in my memory (I have no recollection of the first time I watched any of the original trilogy) I do not recall learning of the deaths of those legendary performers who lent so much class and prestige to what was supposedly trashy sci-fi nonsense – Alec Guinness and Peter Cushing. In my experience, Star Wars exists as this kind of tribute to the last performances of these great actors, but their passing wasn’t something I was ever aware of enough to mourn.

For more reasons than my fondness for those original movies, the news of the death of David Prowse is something I feel keenly.

Passing yesterday after struggling with illness, David Prowse leaves behind a legacy that few could hope to match in their lives.

He was the Green Cross Code Man, protecting British children and families by enforcing proper street safety:

He was the man who transformed Christopher Reeve from 98 pound (admittedly tall) weakling into Superman:

and appeared as Frankenstein’s Monster, villains in Dr. Who and the BBC adaptation of A Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy as…someone’s bodyguard.

Of course, I’m not going to steer clear of his most famous role: Darth Vader. While much of the iconic villain was contributed by James Earl Jones as the voice of the evil space wizard, it cannot be overstated how important was Prowse’s physcial performace as the character. His every step radiated threat and menace, and his stature intimidated my younger self even through the television screen.

In thinking how I could honour his passing, I figured I’d recommend a beautiful moment in the big man’s life, as captured by the touching 2015 Spanish documentary I Am Your Father.

Being encased in the Vader costume for three movies, one might think that the incredible moment when young Luke Skywalker looks at his fathers real face in his final moments would be almost a reward to the performer who has worked so hard for so many years. As any Star Wars fan will tell you, for that heart breaking scene where Luke meets Anakin, only to be forced to say goodbye in the same moment, it was not Prowse beneath that mask, but a newly recruited actor, Sebastian Shaw.

Spanish documentarian and filmmaker Toni Bestard was long bothered by this fact. He was unable to understand what possible reason there could have been for withholding such a powerful moment from a hard working actor.

So he made a documentary about it.

The joy of this brief feature is in meeting the gentle giant who brought to life this fearsome villain, and observing the grace with which he faced his difficult relationship with the original Star Wars films, the Lucasfilm company and their head man, George Lucas.

The film’s denoument involves a painstaking recreation of that unmasking scene from Return of the Jedi, filmed some 30 years after the films release, this time with Prowse finally able to perform the role of the loving father, saying goodbye with gratitude.

While entrenched in Star Wars fandom, the film rises above the usual geek trappings of rabid devotion to a property or repeating the cycle of talking about what we love the best about being a fan. Instead it grapples with the difficult reality of accepting that these films were made by people who sometimes couldn’t get along with each other, and sometimes did wrong by one another. It examines the effect on the life of a performer, who has only ever wanted to do his best in whatever role he is invited to play, and do the best he can for his family. It asks whether we as fans are content to consume and demand, or whether there may be an opportunity, from time to time, to give something back.

In saying farewell to this performer, I can think of no better tribute than to know what he went through for the sake of our entertainment.

God bless David.

The Mandalorian – Season One Reflections

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I’ve gotta get this out of the way up front: I’m kind of over Star Wars.

I never thought I would ever say – or write – those words. When I was a lad there was a briefly-lived publication called Sci-Fi Invasion, and I can clearly remember one of the articles starting with the words, “There comes a point when you just can’t watch Star Wars again.” I thought to myself at the time ‘that will never be me’. The galaxy far, far away meant so much to me during my formative years. It was the campfire around which I was able to peacefully engage with my older brother, and form connections and friendships in times when I felt quite alone.

That’s the unspoken power of our stories, isn’t it? And it’s the reason people get so passionate about sharing them, or in some cases defending them. To consider critisism of a beloved film (or TV series, or comic, or novel et. al.) feels tantamount to critisising the relationships that formed because of it – and if those relationships have been an important part of shaping the people we have become, does that mean we need to question our sense of self as well?

No. I don’t really believe that…I just want to point out that I can understand why some people may believe that.

For myself, I have simple grown tired of Empires and Rebellions and Jedi and Sith. Part of it is over-exposure – I can’t go five minutes without being confronted with some piece of Star Wars merchandise; part of it is a reaction to the ugly behaviour of some “fans” in the wake of some of the more recent films release; and part of it is overwhelming sense of inter-connectedness, or continuity, with books and cartoons and comics that just feels like too much to try and absorb in the limited time I have.

Then the director of one of my favourite films of all time got involved…and I’m hooked once again.

In the same way that my growing disinterest in Star Wars was the result of many factors working against my brain, The Mandalorian has fanned the flames again because of many factors working together to engage me again.

Firstly, it’s a Western. If you’ve seen my review of the great series Firefly, or the underrated Sean Connery pot-boiler Outland, you will know that I am a sucker for the Space Western. It’s true, Star Wars has always been heavily shaped by the legacy of John Ford or Sergio Leone, but The Mandalorian puts that aesthetic front and centre. The tales are of lawless people in lawless places, alternately trying to make their way and survive their enemies. As a bonus, it is also a pretty great Samurai show, so Kurosawa fans should find a point of connection.

Secondly, it stands on its own. I am aware that, for fans in the know, The Mandalorian is dotted with references to characters and events from the wider universe, but as someone who has not seen a single episode of The Clone Wars I can attest that my ignorance does not diminish my enjoyment of the series one bit. In fact, I might even go out on a limb and suggest that one could very well enjoy The Mandalorian without ever have seen a single film in the franchise.

Thirdly, it feels…expansive. One of the little bugbears about some of the entries in the Star Wars Saga is that degree to which, for a story that encompasses an entire galaxy, the scope of events and the characters involved seems awfully limited. The Mandalorian, though small scale and featuring only a handful of characters, boasts a diverse and at times bizzare gathering of aliens & misfits. Watching these individuals from wildly different backgrounds interact is a true delight. And one of them sounds like Nick Nolte.

The series is episodic in the best way – in that there are very few details that inform the plot of one episode too heavily linked to another. As a “soldier of fortune” type, Mando (as the title character is called) seeks contracts which typically will involve him visiting violence upon another person. His code – or creed, perhaps – means that we the viewers can feel assured that this violence is likely justified.
But there is an arcing story – a quandry that contributes to the conflict of each episode. Discovering, piece by piece, the details of Mando’s past and pondering the hints dropped to a greater threat looming in season two does not feel like a chore. Most welcome is the fact that my good buddy and showrunner Jon Favreau does not feel the need to end every single episode with a damn cliffhanger.

The Mandalorian is truly a breath of fresh air for a weary Star Wars afficionado. It’s worth the price of a subscription to Disney Plus, at least for as long as it takes to watch all the episodes. This is the possibility of a brighter, more engaging future for this universe…so check it out.

This Is The Way.

Existentialism

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Today’s entry to make you smile runs a slight risk of delving too deep into angst, but hopefully it will be a gift that keeps on giving.

How many of you remember Garfield? For me, that fat ol’ cat with the penchant for lasagne was a staple of my comics diet as a youngster. I’ve not revisited the character at all in the way I have with Calvin & Hobbes or the Peanuts gang…but recently I’ve discovered that the comic is actually at its best when Garfield isn’t in it.

Several years ago Dan Walsh created this webcomic simply by curating the old Garfield strips by Jim Davis, and editing out the title character. What we are left with is hilarious and harrowing, as Jon Arbuckle (Garfield’s owner) goes through his day-to-day without a communicative feline to bounce his ideas off. He faces existence alone, and is revealed to be more than a little batty from the isolation.

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You can find Garfield Minus Garfield here.

For those curious, Jim Davis is familiar with Garfield Minus Garfield…and apparently loves it. You can read his thoughts on it here.

Fighting the End of the World

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We’ve reached the end of the first week in which Esoteric Fish have attempted to lighten your mood a little. It was a little rough – we’ve lost some wonderful creators in these past weeks, along with the devastation caused by our collective microbial adversary.

But as we sign off for the weekend, we leave you all with our best wishes, our prayers for health and safety, and above all, a strategy that could save us all.

At least…maybe it could have saved this franchise.

Max Von Sydow – Five Farewells: Flash Gordon

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So I’ve referenced the fact that, to me at least, Max Von Sydow was an actor who was for the longest time one of those faces that very recognisable, but just never registered in the way that Harrison Ford or Tom Cruise or Sam Jones did. Whether or not this is shared by anyone else, I long had the impression that Uncle Max was no simply a “face”, but he had always been and “old face”. I recognised him as an old man (or at least older) in the films that I remembered him from – and this is a point we’ll come back to in a later post.

The truth is, however, that he was not perpetually “70 or so” – he was once a young, strong man with a young, strong face, and the first time I realized this was when I finally saw

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Oh Son…that is the cover from a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book.

Flash Gordon

Year: 1980
Director: Mike Hodges
Writers: Lorenzo Semple, Jr. & Michael Allin
Starring: Sam J. Jones, Melody Anderson, Ornella Muti, Timothy Dalton, Mariangela Melato, Brian Blessed, Peter Wyngarde, Topol and…Max Von Sydow.
Based on characters created by Alex Raymond.

If you are unfamiliar with the 1980 film that defines “campy schlock”, you are most certainly familiar with it’s magnificent theme song by the legendary band Queen. It’s the one that goes *bu bu bu bu bu bom bom bom bom Bom Bom BOm BOm BOM BOM BOM* FLASH…AA-AAAAAAA, Saviour of the Un-I-Verse!”

I lack the necessary words to convey just how important it is that you go out and watch this movie immediately. Whatever the stories behind the making of this beautiful mess, watching it has felt a little like watching a massive prank being pulled on one man by his college-mates, plus a few professors. So many British thespians (plus Topol!) appear in this flick, and every one of them has stepped straight out of the River of Ham, and are having a marvelous time. The only guy “playing it straight” is the films lead, Sam J. Jones as Flash Gordon. The result is hilariously entertaining, as the titular hero rockets to the planet Mongo to prevent galactic tyrant Ming the Merciless (Sydow) from destroying the earth.

Sydow effortlessly dominates this movie, establishing as magnetic presence that fixes the audience to the screen every time he shows up. I mentioned that in his great career, Sydow showed up in a fair bit of sci-fi or horror schlock, but in most roles he’s playing with sense of serious grace, raising the standard of the film he’s in. Flash Gordon is that rare occasion when he gets in on the over-the-top glory with his performance.

Flash Gordon has more than earned its place in the cult classic vault, and Max Von Sydow is a big part of that.

Oh go on then…I’ll leave you with the song.

Stuart Gordon, Gone Beyond – 24th March, 2020

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We bid a very fond farewell this week to Stuart Gordon – visionary director; subversive social commentator; cheeky bugger. In what is proving to be a crushing week for my creative spirit, Gordon has passed away at the age of 72. While he was not a household name the likes of Spielberg or Kubrick, to fans of genre cinema – most especially horror – he stands out among his peers as being one of the most unique filmmakers of the 80’s and 90’s. Whatever else one might say about him, his voice was truly his own.

There’s something of a rite of passage for movie guys of a certain generation – it comes about when one progresses from the point of being fascinated by the VHS covers in the genre sections of their local video store (ask your parents kids), to finally watching the movies themselves. When I was a kid our family would make weekly trips to the bargain video barn, and while my brother and sister searched and made their choices, I would slip away to the horror section, and gaze upon the terrifying, but engrossing, cover art. I would never dream of actually watching one, mind – I was way too intimidated. I was fascinated at their existence though. Many of those cover images are indelibly burned into my mind,  but none moreso than-

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Stuart Gordon’s Re-Animator, based on a short story by H.P. Lovecraft, is an entry point for many into the magnificent fusion of horror and comedy. It is Gordon’s first and most widely known film, but is really indicative of his output as a whole. It is a film that combines genuine heart, biting satire, laugh-out-loud humour and gross-out horror sequences. It is bizarre, upsetting, tense, ridiculous, funny, awful, disgusting and at points in phenomenally bad taste…and I love every second of it.

While best known as a horror director, Gordon actually had a diverse output on screen and on stage, directing plays which may have been his greater passion. Gordon is responsible for bonkers sci-fi schlock Robot Jox, but also for a staple of my childhood, Honey I Shrunk The Kids.

Gordon scared me hysterical, and I loved him for it. Vale Stuart, I doubt we’ll see another like you.

We encourage you to read more of Stuart Gordon, who was a bizarre inspiration, but a great one.