Bride of the Wind (2001)

reviewed by
Jon Popick


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For those of you who couldn't get enough of Albert Brooks' 1999 film The Muse (and I know a lot of you couldn't, considering it didn't even recoup its $15 million budget) and thought, "Gee, it sure would be great if this were based on truth...and set in turn-of-the-century Vienna...and a drama instead of a comedy," then, people, I have got a film for you. Bride of the Wind is a drama based on truth that is set during turn-of-the-century Vienna, and instead of its main character inspiring the likes of James Cameron, Martin Scorsese, Jeff Bridges and Meathead, she motivates real artists of that time.

The muse is Alma Moll (Sarah Wynter, The 6th Day), the social-climbing daughter of a popular stage actress. Bride opens, after some handsome opening credits that show old Austrian film clips, in 1902 Vienna, which is atwitter with the news that the great composer, Gustav Mahler (Jonathan Pryce, Stigmata), is taking up residence in their fair city. Everyone rushes to kiss Mahler's ass, but Alma gets his attention by criticizing his music. Mahler in intrigued, but tells Alma, "A symphony is like the world; it must contain everything." I think Baz Luhrmann incorporated the same practice into Moulin Rogue.

Mahler is easily seduced by Alma, and they eventually marry, but he forces her to give up her burgeoning music career to focus on things like balancing his books. Alma squirts out a couple of kids, and after one of them dies she heads for the sanitarium, where she falls in love with Bauhaus architect Walter Gropius (Simon Verhoeven). Alma still accompanies Mahler in his move to New York City, yet continues to yearn for Gropius.

Then she falls for Impressionist painter Oskar Kokoschka (Vincent Perez, I Dreamed of Africa), whose first attempt at a physical relationship with Alma is greeted with a squeeze to the ol' twig-and-berries (she's some lady, this Alma). After Kokoschka, she moves onto left-wing author Franz Werfel (Gregor Seberg), who looks a lot like SNL's Darryl Hammond. Alma marries a few of these four men (it's honestly difficult to keep track of her latest hubby), and, although it's not shown in the film, continues to bed famous men. Alma's poor daughter, Anna, obviously confused by the carousel of men, just calls them all "Uncle."

We're never really given a clear reason why she hops beds so frequently. Bride is, I think, supposed to show Alma as a pioneer feminist (and, indeed, the script was written by a woman, first-timer Marilyn Levy), but winds up portraying her as a flaky horn-dog who is easily bored with men. To make matters worse, Wynter isn't that great of an actress. Other than her cute pout (think Cate Blanchett crossed with Renée Zellweger, only without the talent), there isn't much going on, other than her willingness to participate in a lot of lingering sex scenes.

Wynter isn't the only performer who disappoints. The usually reliable Pryce turns in a performance reminiscent of the great Frank Langella. It doesn't help that the story is poorly written and full of silly dialogue, or that it casually mentions major historical events as if they were an afterthought, like when somebody literally sticks their head into one scene to shout about the assassination of the Archduke. Given the short running time, I wouldn't be surprised to learn that the original cut from director Bruce Beresford (Double Jeopardy) was much longer and a bit more detailed but shoddily edited to a more reasonable length. And I'm not even sure you could consider Alma a muse. She's more like a starfucker than anything; an early ancestor of Bonny Bakely.

And the title of the film, in case you were wondering, comes from one of Kokoschka's paintings. 1:38 - R for sexuality and nudity


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