Mel Brooks

The Bride!

10/03/26

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Maggie Gyllenhaal’s previous film, The Lost Daughter, seemed to be loved by all and sundry – despite being, in my opinion, a bit slight. The Bride! couldn’t be any more different if it tried. This is a film so sprawling, so packed with bonkers invention, that it almost feels as if it’s about to burst off the screen and into the auditorium. It’s also one that embodies the term ‘divisive.’ It’s had some critics clutching their pearls and reaching for two (and even one) star reviews, while many viewers have denounced it in no uncertain terms. How dare Ms Gyllenhaal defile the genius of Mary Shelley in such a way? Doesn’t she understand that Frankenstein is a great work of art that needs to be treated with respect? 

We open with Mary Shelley herself (Jessie Buckley) in close-up monochrome, berating the fact that she didn’t live long enough to continue her famous story, and proclaiming that she will create a sequel by hook or by crook. Somehow, she manages to home in on Ida (Buckley again), a woman misbehaving in a Chicago bar in 1936. A quick case of possession occurs, which has Ida acting lewdly and shouting abuse (in a variety of voices) at Lupino (Zlatko Buric), the gangster who runs the city. For this misdemeanour, Ida is promptly pushed down a flight of stairs to her death. Bye bye, Ida… or is it?

Shortly thereafter, ‘Frank’ (Christian Bale) arrives in the city in search of Dr Cornelia Euphronious (Annette Bening), a scientist famed for her experiments with reanimation. Frank has been around since the 1800s and is starting to feel a crippling sense of loneliness. Would Dr Euphronious be prepared to animate a female corpse for him, so he can finally enjoy a meaningful relationship? The good doctor understandably has some doubts, but luckily she acquiesces (otherwise this would be a very short movie) and Ida’s freshly-buried body and Shelley’s spirit are zapped into something larger than life. 

‘Penny’ – as Ida/Mary is now known – and Frank start to get to know each other and they go out nightclubbing in a sleazy part of the city. After Frank kills a couple of guys who attempt to rape Ida, the couple are forced to go on the run…

And yes, on paper, it does sound ridiculous – but then, so does Mary Shelley’s original story to be fair – and what my words can’t adequately convey is the sheer exuberance with which this is all done, a degree of WTF invention that leaps out of every frame. The Bride! is quite literally a fearless monster mash-up of epic proportions, with knowing nods to Bonnie and Clyde, Mel Brooks and the Hollywood musicals of the 1930s. Frank, it turns out, is a major fan of song-and-dance man, Ronnie Reed (Jake Gyllenhaal), and never misses the opportunity to catch one of his films at the cinema. In doing so, he unwittingly leaves a trail for detectives Jake Wiles (Peter Sarsgaard) and his much cleverer partner, Myrna Malloy (Penélope Cruz).  

I’ll be the first to admit that not everything Gyllenhaal attempts here quite comes off – she wrote the screenplay, as well as directing – and there are rough edges to some of the scenes of mayhem and bloodshed. Furthermore, if you’re one of those people who hates coincidences, be warned – there are a lot of them here. But overall, The Bride! offers such a wild, unpredictable thrill-ride that I quickly throw aside my qualms and  have a great time with it. Buckley is every bit as mesmerising as she is in Hamnet, while Bale’s interpretation of the Monster as a hesitant, apologetic creature, worn down by decades of travails, makes him strangely endearing. Lawrence Sher’s cinematography is stunning and there’s an intriguing score by Hildur Guõnodóttir. The whole enterprise is underpinned by a powerful feminist subtext, which reflects the era in which it’s set.

So, my advice would be to disregard the bad word-of-mouth and watch The Bride! with an open mind. The film’s opening weekend suggests that it’s going to lay a great big egg at the box office, but those who admire audacious creativity will find much to admire here.

4 stars

Philip Caveney

JD Shapiro: I’m With Stupid

22/08/22

Gilded Balloon, Teviot (Billiard Room), Edinburgh

It’s a Monday night on the Fringe and it’s raining, which no doubt explains why the audience in the Billiard Room is best described as ‘modest’. No matter. JD Shapiro takes the small number in his stride and comes out with all guns blazing, ready to dish the dirt on his adventures in the screen trade. He warns us right up front he’s going to be dropping a lot of names tonight, but clearly has no fucks to give on that score. Drop them he does, in large quantities.

Shapiro is the kid from New Jersey, who arrived in LA with one hundred bucks in his pocket and a crazy dream in his head – a dream of making it big in Hollywood. He’s the guy who wrote a silly movie called Robin Hood: Men in Tights (on spec) and managed to get it into the hands of Mel Brooks, via the dentist that they both used. He’s also the guy who, when offered a first chance to direct a movie, turned down Dude, Where’s My Car? (yeah, I know, but it made a ton of money) in favour of a little thing called Battlefield Earth, starring John Travolta, which now rejoices under the title of the ‘worst film ever made’.

Shapiro is refreshingly open about it. He agrees that Battlefield Earth is terrible and tells us he spent some time trying to get his name removed from the project before it ever came out. Because, of course, the finished movie wasn’t what he’d envisaged at all… but you know, too many cooks and all that.

Shapiro is a likeable character with a real twinkle in his eye, a raconteur who interacts easily with us, offering us a series of projected illustrations from various points in his career, and his opinions on all manner of things. He talks about the time he took Michael Jackson for a ride in his jeep, the crazy projects he tried to launch with Marlon Brando (who actually seemed more interested in making cookies), and the fifteen years he spent working alongside his closest pal, Stan Lee. With names like this to drop, who wouldn’t go for it?

This show is part stand-up, part memoir, and it’s a splendid way to pass an hour on the Fringe.

I leave feeling strangely upbeat, thinking that I must have another look at the screen adaptation I made of one of my novels. I wonder if my dentist has any contacts? You never know…

Meanwhile, why not take the opportunity to nip down to the Billiard Room and experience for yourself the ups and downs of the film industry?

4.2 stars

Philip Caveney

The Producers

 

29/11/18

Pleasance Theatre, Edinburgh

It’s hard to imagine the kind of outrage that must have been generated by Mel Brooks’ The Producers on it’s original release in 1967, when it’s tap-dancing Nazi stormtroopers and flamboyantly gay directors must have touched a whole bunch of raw nerves. Adapted as a musical by Brooks and Thomas Meehan in the early naughties, it’s one of those rare creatures, a brilliant film, that became an excellent musical, that became a superb musical film. The Edinburgh University Savoy Opera Group have some very big jackboots to fill here, but I’m happy to say that they rise to that daunting undertaking with their usual brio.

For those who are unfamiliar with the story, this is the tale of struggling theatre impresario, Max Bialystock (Max McLaughlin) and shy, nervy accountant Leo Bloom (Rob Merriam). The two men form an unlikely alliance when Bloom casually points out that a producer might easily take a bigger profit from a disastrous flop than from a major success, provided the account ledgers are suitably cooked. With this in mind, Bialystock sets about procuring two million dollars to fund a new musical by seducing every elderly lady in his little black book – and, once they have the budget, Bialystock and Bloom go in search of the worst show ever written, plus the worst actors to perform it. Pretty soon, they settle on a little piece promisingly entitled Springtime for Hitler…

This is unashamedly a creation of its era and happily, there’s been no attempt to soften the outrageous content to suit more modern sensibilities. The cast play it exactly as written, which leads to the only false note, when Bloom insults Bialystok by calling him ‘Fatty,’ (something that worked well enough for Zero Mostel and Nathan Lane, but is simply puzzling when applied to the lithe figure of McLaughlin). But that’s a minor niggle in what is, otherwise, a very satisfying production.

McLaughlin and Merriam make an appealing duo, while Georgie Rogers plays Swedish wannabe Ulla with the volume turned up to 11 and Will Peppercorn is a suitably deranged Franz Liebkind, a man who thinks nothing of wearing a German steel helmet and a swastika as leisurewear. Supporting actors make the most of their smaller roles (I particularly like Gordon Stackhouse’s turn as Carmen Ghia, a performance so archly camp that every gesture manages to evoke a belly laugh). But this musical is, of course, the very definition of an ensemble piece with twenty-two actors confidently moving around the small stage, singing and dancing up an absolute storm, even when incorporating their zimmer frames. And let’s not forget, there’s a seventeen piece band in this show, conducted by Caitlin Morgan, who deliver an assured musical accompaniment throughout.

Yes, this is a student show and of course, they don’t have the budget for fancy effects and state-of-the-art scenery, but when it comes to talent, The Producers is positively bursting with the stuff. If you like the original film, you’ll love this and you’re certain to come out, like me, with a great big smile on your face.

4.5 stars

Philip Caveney