Editorials
Here Comes ‘The Bride’: Jennifer Beals Takes Control in ’80s Gothic Romance Frankenstein Retelling
Few characters in the history of horror have captured our attention like the Bride of Frankenstein.
Elsa Lanchester originated this electrifying role in James Whale’s 1935 classic sequel to Frankenstein, and we’ve been collectively obsessed ever since. With just a few minutes of actual screen time, the Bride quickly makes her presence known by rejecting the Monster to whom she’s been promised. For 90 years, we’ve explored this striking archetype through just about every conceivable lens. As we approach Maggie Gyllenhaal’s The Bride, which promises to be an overtly feminist take on the classic character, let’s renew our vows to this beguiling woman in a cinematic trip down the aisle, er .. memory lane.
Reimagining Mary Shelley’s foundational text, Franc Roddam’s The Bride (1985) is quintessentially 80s in tone. Released fifty years after Bride of Frankenstein, the film picks up where Whale left off with another dark and stormy night as Dr. Charles Frankenstein (Sting) prepares another dangerous experiment. He’s wired an intricate globe to harness the lightning and channel it into a woman’s corpse. But something goes wrong with the straps and pulleys holding her aloft and the constructed body is wracked with electrical currents from a multitude of lightning strikes. Convinced his creation has been destroyed, Charles prepares to declare a total loss when he hears muffled coughing from within the shroud. Clearing away the bandages, a roomful of men stare down at the face of a beautiful woman.
While this setup mirrors Whale’s iconic scene, the experiment’s results are wildly different. Jennifer Beals stars as the creature Charles calls Eva, named for the proverbial first woman, auspiciously created from the rib of a man. Just two years after her breakout performance in Flashdance, Beals had become a household name. The entire world was familiar with the gorgeous young woman’s slim silhouette, and Roddam’s staging highlights her attractive physique. Rather than a heavy sheet or billowy medical gown, Eva’s body is wrapped in semi-transparent bandages that more closely resemble a dancer’s catsuit.
Splayed on a thin harness, she’s suspended just below a massive globe wired to ripple with electric blue light, not unlike imagery from the iconic dance film. Near the peak of his own popularity, Sting’s performance as a dashing but cruel scientist adds a distinctly modern flair to this gothic story. While it may be set in a 19th-century castle, Roddam’s version of the Frankenstein story would fit right in on MTV, which itself had premiered just four years earlier.
The creature that emerges from this gauzy shroud is also remarkably modern, at least by 80s standards. Removing a white medical cap releases Beals’ trademark cascade of curly brown hair teased into an untamed halo to replicate Lanchester’s gravity-defying ‘do. But Roddam’s modern take on the Universal monster omits the white streaks seeming to emerge from her temples. Eva’s face is pale and makeup-free, seeming to imply an unbridled innocence. But the most striking difference, particularly compared to Clancy Brown’s Monster, is a lack of scars indicating a corpse’s construction. Though we will learn that her body has been pieced together from appendages salvaged from the dead, no evidence of this assembly remains on Eva’s smooth skin.
Like Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus, she has emerged from Dr. Frankenstein’s table a voluptuous woman fully formed. Ironically, Kelly LeBrock had just made waves as a similar creation in the John Hughes comedy, Weird Science, which premiered two weeks before The Bride. The cinematic scientists of 1985 were not concerned with creating life itself, but in reconstructing a vision of female perfection.
Roddam continues this focus on Eva’s form in her first conversation with her creator. As Charles sits by the fire, she wanders, naked, into the room. Her head and torso are hidden in shadow while a beam of light falls on her pubic area. This framing is likely meant to disguise Beals’ body double, but it also presents Eva as a dehumanized sexual being. While musing about his experiment, Charles will profess a desire to create “the new woman … independent, free, as bold and as proud as a man.” But his actions tell another story. Over the course of their relationship, we will learn that Charles is only offering the illusion of power. What he actually wants is the “pliant” body on display in this scene, a blank female canvas to be molded into his perfect mate.
Though Charles has no discernible reaction to Eva’s nudity, his housekeeper is horrified. Mrs. Baumann (Geraldine Page) rushes into the room, desperate to cover the young woman’s body. This traditional mother figure has been tasked with taming Charles’ creation, who has no concept of societal norms. Her brazen nakedness is an affront to the gender-based expectations Mrs. Baumann has internalized. But Eva is not intentionally rocking the boat. In a precursor to Yorgos Lanthimos’s 2023 Oscar darling Poor Things, she is a woman bestowed with a man’s liberation. She has not been raised under a lifetime of misogyny, nor has she been bred to attract a powerful husband who will give her the protection of his status and wealth. Eva sees no need to cover her body because she has not been told that it is dangerous.
As Eva gains independence, she becomes a direct threat to Charles’ authority. Save for a few painful scenes in which she learns to speak — and one wild moment in which she screams at a cat — Beals becomes a feminist champion. Nodding to her Flashdance character, an ultra-feminized dancer who feels at home in a masculine world, Beals is at her best when she’s arguing with Charles and insisting on her own autonomy. She challenges him in a philosophical debate and sneaks away for a dalliance with a handsome suitor, ignoring Regency-era fears that losing her virginity will disqualify her for any lucrative marriage. But rather than praise Eva’s independence, Charles feels emasculated. We realize that he only wants an enlightened companion to serve as a mirror to his own brilliant mind.
Finding Eva in the arms of another man, he decides to finally lock down his bride. After sharing the details of his experiments, he explains that she was created to be given away to the monster now known as Viktor (Brown). But beholding her ethereal beauty, Charles decided to claim her for himself. Threatening to “uncreate” her, he orders Eva to “obey” his plans to forcibly consummate this one-sided relationship. But Viktor reappears in the nick of time, drawn by their psychic connection. Creator and creation fight to the death until Viktor throws Charles off a high balcony.
It’s tempting to view this intrusion as a valiant prince saving a damsel in distress, but Roddam’s conclusion is anything but. After experiencing both cruelty and kindness in the larger world, Viktor has learned that love must be earned and companionship means nothing without consent. Assuming Eva will reject him again, the hulking man prepares to leave, but is surprised when she calls him back to her. Finally understanding their unique connection, Eva excitedly asks to hear his story. Roddam ends the film on this emotional connection, speaking volumes with what he does not show. A gondola hints at a romantic trip to Venice, which would fulfill Viktor’s most treasured dream. But the monstrous couple does not appear in this fantasy, implying that their future together has not yet been decided.
The film may end with Eva choosing Viktor, but we don’t yet know what their relationship will become, and she is under no obligation to fulfill the man’s dreams simply because he saved her from Dr. Frankenstein. No longer defined by her male creator, Eva is free to choose her own destiny.
Here Comes the Bride; Maggie Gyllenhaal’s spin on the Bride of Frankenstein arrives in March. We’re celebrating with a look back at the various iterations of the classic horror icon.
After fifty years of continuous writing, Stephen King has become a genre unto himself.
The unrivaled Master of Horror made a splash in 1974 with his debut novel Carrie and has been terrifying readers ever since. Two years later, Brian De Palma brought this shocking story to the screen with an equally electrifying horror film that remains a genre classic and a prototypical example of “Good For Her” horror. This dual debut seemed to open the floodgates, unleashing endless waves of Stephen King films.
From the highs of Misery, Cujo, and The Shawshank Redemption to the schlocky fun of Cat’s Eye, Creepshow, and Children of the Corn, the last five decades have seen just about every notable horror creator take a stab at the author’s massive collection.
In recent years, this singular subgenre has begun to burst at the seams, expanding to include Stephen King-esque fare. In 2016, brothers Matt and Ross Duffer debuted Stranger Things, a sci-fi series heavily inspired by two of King’s most famous books. The Netflix series remixes Firestarter and It by following a little girl with psychic powers and an intrepid group of kids on bikes who must battle an otherworldly foe and a sinister government agency. With its clever blend of modern effects and comforting nostalgia, this gateway horror series paved the way for Andy Muschietti’s It adaptation which remains the highest grossing horror film of all time.
Four years later, Mike Flanagan would create Midnight Mass, a spiritual adaptation of King’s second novel Salem’s Lot. Published in 1975, the book sees a tiny New England town torn apart by a centuries-old vampire. Though Flanagan’s story is perhaps more tender, both iterations of the classic horror tale follow close-knit communities shaken to their core by the presence of an ancient evil.
In addition to these recent hits, 2025 was a banner year for the Master of Horror. Audiences delighted in six mainstream adaptations, including the massively popular It: Welcome to Derry which chronicles earlier cycles of the titular clown’s reign. With this boost to King’s cultural cache, it’s no surprise that we’ve begun to see more unofficial adaptations of the author’s work and horror creators who build their own unique castles in King’s creative sandbox.
So what defines a Stephen King-esque story?
For the past fifty years, the prolific author has dipped his toes in nearly every subgenre from supernatural stories and grisly gore to western fantasy and science fiction. Including his vast catalogue of short fiction, King has tackled ghosts, demons, werewolves, zombies, aliens, mutants, and self-driving cars, not to mention bizarre monsters of his own creation. But what truly unites this vast array of horror is King’s focus on relatable characters. In his 2000 memoir/instructional text On Writing, the prolific author describes the amusement he finds in writing disparate characters, placing them in horrific scenarios, then exploring the ways they try to survive.
An unofficial Stephen King adaptation may take place in the author’s native New England — bonus points if it’s set in Maine — and reference his well-known heroes and villains. But what makes the King connection unbreakable is a character-driven story about average people who band together in the face of abject terror.
Weapons Captures Small Town Stephen King
Following his 2022 shocker Barbarian, Zach Cregger returned with Weapons, a sprawling story that begins in a doomed elementary school. On an otherwise ordinary day, Justine (Julia Garner) arrives at her desk to find that all but one of her students have disappeared. As the mystery grows increasingly violent, Justine and Archer (Josh Brolin), the father of a missing boy, find their way to the home of Alex (Cary Christopher), the class’ only surviving student. In some ways reminiscent of Salem’s Lot, Weapons swings wildly through the unfortunate town, introducing us to its flawed inhabitants as we watch their lives fall apart.
Cregger’s setup nods to a pair of King short stories. Both “Suffer the Little Children” and “Here There Be Tygers” tackle monstrous presences in elementary schools, but as Weapons reaches its final act, Constant Readers may remember another Stephen King tale. Featured in his 1985 collection Skeleton Crew, “Gramma” introduces us to George, a little boy tormented by an aging witch. On an afternoon alone with his sickly grandmother, the frightened child gradually realizes that the imposing old woman has been waiting for an opportunity to cast a spell that will extend her own life by possessing his body.
Alex finds himself similarly tortured by his aunt Gladys (Amy Madigan), a garish witch who orchestrates a desperate plot to sustain her own strength. Transforming humans into mindless weapons, Gladys has taken over Alex’s family home and lured his classmates to the basement. Holding them in a comatose state, she syphons off their energy to extend her own supernatural life.
Vastly different in many ways, both “Gramma” and Weapons hinge on a sinister witch who uses horrific magical spells to sacrifice the bodies of her vulnerable prey.
Hokum Echoes The Shining and 1408
It’s nearly impossible to watch a film about a haunted hotel without thinking of King’s third novel, The Shining. This icy story follows Jack Torrance, an angry writer struggling with his sobriety and a shameful incident haunting his past. Accompanied by his wife and young son, Jack has taken a job as the winter caretaker for the Overlook, a haunted hotel situated high in the Rocky Mountains. Snowed in, Jack finds himself tormented by dangerous ghosts who amplify his greatest fears.
Damian McCarthy’s Hokum follows a similarly troubled figure. Ohm Bauman (Adam Scott) is a surly writer who travels to the Bilberry Woods Hotel in rural Ireland to spread his parents’ ashes. Haunted by his own tragic past, Ohm finds himself trapped in the honeymoon suite, a decaying room that’s been permanently closed to protect visitors from a dangerous witch trapped within its walls. Visual nods to King’s text abound with woodcut figurines and an animated clock, mirroring ominous descriptions found in King’s text.
Another terrifying sequence sees Ohm staring with horror at a closed door, the only thing separating him from the approaching witch. As the door knob slowly turns, Constant Readers remember Jack’s narrow escape from the ghostly woman in room 217. And Ohm’s popular Conquistador books directly reference King’s long-running fantasy series The Dark Tower which follows a gunslinger named Roland Deschain tasked with protecting the nexus of the universe.
In addition to these thematic comparisons, Hokum bears striking resemblance to King’s terrifying short story “1408.” Collected in 2002’s Everything’s Eventual, the terrifying story follows Mike Enslin, a dejected writer who’s risen to fame penning essays about his adventures in haunted locations. Mike arrives at the Hotel Dolphin and bullies his way into the titular room, despite the manager’s dire warnings. McCarthy nods to this story with an ominously misplaced hotel room door, reminiscent of King’s entry to 1408, an unsuspecting portal that appears to move each time Mike looks away.
However, McCarthy’s most direct reference lies in a minicorder Ohm uses to capture notes. Trapped inside the dreaded honeymoon suite, this device offers well-timed messages while sitting next to a decomposing corpse. Mike records his time in 1408 with his own trusty minicorder. Described for the reader, his tape has captured the man’s slow descent into madness as the room prepares to swallow him whole. With conclusions that differ wildly in tone, both Ohm and Mike find their lives irrevocably changed by encounters with the supernatural realm.
Widow’s Bay Builds Its Own Version of Castle Rock
Katie Dippold’s Widow’s Bay has taken the idea of an unofficial King adaptation and turned it into an art form. The Apple TV series sees the residents of the titular island plagued by a curse that dates back centuries. Not only does the picturesque hamlet not accommodate wifi connections, those born on the island face certain death should they ever try to leave. Desperate to modernize the tiny town, Mayor Tom Loftis (Matthew Rhys) draws in waves of tourists just as a new cycle of terror begins.
Blending horror with deft comedy, Dippold makes cheeky references to King’s body of work. Tom warns that, “there’s something in the fog,” reminding readers of King’s 1980 novella The Mist. And Loftis’ own stay in the town’s haunted hotel sees him tormented by the ghost of a murderous clown. We even spy a vintage King hardback peeking out of a local book trade box.
In many ways Widow’s Bay feels like a new iteration of the author’s Little Tall Island, a tiny village off the coast of Maine. In addition to the 1992 novel Dolores Claiborne and a handful of harrowing short stories, this quaint fishing village is also the setting for King’s 1999 teleplay Storm of the Century. Premiering on ABC primetime, this tragic tale follows a terrified group of islanders who batten down the hatches for a dangerous Nor’easter only to find a more sinister threat lurking within.
Constant Readers may also be reminded of Castle Rock, the author’s favorite fictional town.
First introduced in the 1981 novel Cujo, the charming village becomes the star of Needful Things, King’s satire about consumerism. After several Castle Rock stories, we’re reintroduced to its residents as they gossip about the arrival of Leland Gaunt and the grand opening of his curio shop. Anything their hearts desire can be found in his varied inventory, so long as they’re willing to pay the price. Pitting cantankerous neighbors against each other, Gaunt ignites a wave of grisly violence by exploiting long-held resentments and feuds.
The town’s only defense against this supernatural threat is beleaguered sheriff Alan Pangborn. Still grieving the deaths of his wife and younger son, Alan struggles to connect with his older child and pick up the pieces of his shattered life. Also a widower, Loftis struggles to raise his own restless son and explain the strange details of his wife’s tragic death. Attempting to unravel the island’s dark secrets, Tom is aided by quirky residents including a surly fisherman named Wyck (Stephen Root) and Patricia (Kate O’Flynn), an earnest Town Hall employee. King’s own novels feature many of these proactive alliances with disparate characters combining their strengths to overcome insurmountable odds.
With Widow’s Bay renewed for a second season and Mike Flanagan’s Carrie series on the horizon, the future seems bright for new King adaptations, both spiritual and directly pulled from his catalogue. The prolific author also shows no signs of slowing down with two publications nearing release. His upcoming novel, Other Worlds Than These, is the long-awaited third Talisman book which teases direct ties to his Dark Tower world. Holly Forever will be a new installment of his crime series, offering a different kind of genre fare.
This embarrassment of riches spawning multiple worlds seems ripe for spiritual adaptation and will likely inspire horror creators for decades to come.
Kate O’Flynn, Stephen Root and Matthew Rhys in “Widow’s Bay,” now streaming on Apple TV.
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