About “The Bride!” in a few words:

The Bride! is a dark, stylish reimagining of the classic Frankenstein myth, directed by Maggie Gyllenhaal. Set in 1930s Chicago, the story begins when a lonely monster named Frank convinces scientist Dr. Euphronious to bring a murdered woman, Ida, back to life. She becomes the Bride — fierce, unpredictable, and very much her own person. What follows is part gothic horror, part outlaw romance, as the pair tear through the world like a strange undead Bonnie and Clyde.

Meet the characters from The Bride!

Ida

Oh Ida, she’s the kind of person who barges into a room and somehow rearranges the furniture with just her vibe — stubborn, warm, and a little bit dangerous in the best way. She’s fiercely practical but keeps this tiny stack of ridiculous poetry scraps under her mattress (no, she’ll never admit which ones are hers). Protective to a fault, hates being told what to do but will argue for hours about the correct way to hang a picture frame — and yes, she hums lullabies when she’s thinking, which is both terrifying and oddly comforting. You get the sense she has secrets but also bakes awful cakes for friends, which somehow makes everything okay.

Frank

Frank is rough around the edges in a way that’s basically his entire charm — grumpy, loyal, suspicious of strangers, but also the guy who’ll show up at 3 AM with a toolbox and a ridiculous idea. He swears he hates grand gestures (lies) and will deny ever crying, even though he keeps a shoebox of movie ticket stubs from sad films. He’s a terrible dancer and a brilliant improvisor; give him a problem, he’ll MacGyver something that sort of works and probably involves duct tape. Also, he collects matchbooks for reasons he can’t explain, which is either sentimental or deeply weird, and I’m leaning toward both.

Dr. Euphronious

Classic mad-scientist-with-manners energy — brilliant, eccentric, and always three experiments ahead of everyone else, wearing an odd bow tie and smelling faintly of pipe smoke and oranges. He rattles off jargon like fireworks and then apologizes for being long-winded while inventing a device that may or may not be slightly dangerous (but “only to bad ideas,” he says). Loves obscure jokes, keeps a pet frog named Socrates (he says it’s for research; it might be for company), and has this bizarre habit of correcting people’s grammar mid-sentence — charming or insufferable depending on the day. He hates crowds but will do public lectures because he can’t resist showing off a diagram at full dramatic flair.

Myrna Malloy

Myrna is glitter and steel — socialite, strategist, and somehow both brutally honest and outrageously performative, like a rose with thorns and a killer hat. She runs every room she’s in but will casually let someone else think they’re in charge just to see what happens (manipulative, yes, but also oddly generous sometimes). She loves cats even though she’s allergic and writes these deeply melodramatic poems that she pretends are terrible — then reads them aloud at parties like it’s a sport. Sharp-tongued, meticulous about her gloves, and prone to last-minute chaos that she’ll call “spontaneous,” which is maybe true? maybe not? Either way, you can’t look away.