Coen Brothers

(Netflix Streaming, September 2019) Trust the Coen Brothers to go back to the western genre and make it feel fresh again. An anthology of six unconnected short films, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs blends genres and approaches to come up with something quite a bit better than a list of ingredients may suggest. Things get off to a roaring start with “The Ballad of Buster Scruggs,” in which a sharpshooting singing cowboy benefits from cartoon physics and a sociopathic disregard for decency to deliver an exhilarating look at familiar western tropes. It’s disturbingly gory and yet easily the funniest of the segments—go figure. This is followed by the just-as-mean-spirited “Near Algodones,” featuring a bank robber who gets richly punished again and again. Farther away from Monument Valley, “Meal Ticket” is a far more sombre affair featuring a limbless performer and a misanthropic impresario. The sole upbeat segment of the film, “All Gold Canyon,” is a near-procedural look at a gold prospector stumbling upon a gold deposit in an unspoiled valley. “The Gal Who Got Rattled” starts off on a good note as a woman embarks on a wagon train journey to Oregon, but things quickly turn sour as they have a tendency to do throughout the entire film. Finally, “The Mortal Remains” lands us in fantastical territory as a stagecoach ride is probably a metaphor for another kind of passage. All stories are unified by downbeat endings, superb cinematography and the Coen’s usual gift for screenwriting. While some segments seem to end on sour or even inconclusive notes, the film feels far more satisfying than countless other films where most of the protagonists don’t survive until the end. The experience of watching The Ballad of Buster Scruggs isn’t what we may expect from reading story synopses—it’s far funnier (in a darkly humorous vein) than the plot suggests, and the combination of terrific cinematography (seriously—the west seldom looked so good) and good acting does manage to raise the final result to something quite fascinating. It probably takes some experience with the Coen’s typically inconclusive and dark storytelling style to get the most of the film, but it’s quite an unusual piece of cinema.

(On DVD, March 2012) I must be mellowing in my old age, because I can imagine a younger version me wanting to burn stuff after the whopper of a non-conclusion at the end of the Coen brothers’ A Serious Man.  It’s a necessary spoiler to state that, after an entire film showing a man’s life getting worse and worse, the film shies away from a third act and snaps to a black screen at the moment where the crises are at their worst.  While the Coens have a certain track record of doing this (and being rewarded by Oscar for the trick), careful watchers will note that the move isn’t entirely gratuitous: It’s a wrath-of-God reaction to the protagonist’s final C-grade moral decision, and the film does announce, earlier, the notion of a story without a satisfying conclusion.  Still, it’s a maddening move after a generally successful black comedy in which a multitude of sharply-drawn characters are introduced and sent careening off each other.  You would think that there would be a bigger payoff… but just accept that it isn’t so.  As for the rest, there’s a lot to like in the film’s not-missing part, from the atmosphere of a 1967 Minnesota Jewish suburbia, to many lesser-known actors doing good work to a certain cruel sense of humor in which everything steadily gets worse and worse… even in the protagonist’s dreams.  This certainly isn’t a major entry in the Coens filmography, but it does carry their usual brand of expectation-defiance and unconventional artistry.

(In theaters, September 2008) Dark comedies are a tough, tough assignment, and if the Coen Brothers have been able to do the genre full justice before, they’ve also had a few misfires along the way, and Burn After Reading skirts particularly close to that edge. Among the film’s biggest problem is a sudden turn for deadly violence after a first half that promises nothing more serious than bloodied noses. It’s a jarring misstep in what is otherwise an absurd story of adulterous urban professionals who just happen to work in intelligence operations. The rest of the film is hit-and-miss, more often amusing rather than frankly funny. All of the actors, from Brad Pitt to George Clooney to Tilda Swinton to John Malkovich, seem to have a lot of fun inhabiting seriously flawed characters. (Indeed, one of the film’s highlight is the precise way Malkovich’s characters enunciates his colorful threats and insults.) The film’s two funniest scenes both star J.K. Simmons as an Intelligence Director completely mystified by the accumulation of transgressions and violence that characterize the film. Otherwise, though, the film ends quickly and with a succession of off-screen developments. There’s little satisfaction here for those who like well-wrapped narratives, nor those who prefer more conventional comedies.

(In theaters, November 2007) One of the least-useful conflations out there is the idea that familiar genre structures go hand-in-hand with inferior work. That ignores the lengthy tradition of genre storytelling, the centuries of experimentation to find out that yes, audiences are happier when the story ends with a nice bow and flourish. Mess with these expectations at your own peril and cranky comments. So it is that for 90% of its duration, No Country For Old Men is crackling crime drama film-making, up to the Coen Brother’s own best standards. The pace is measured, the story takes interesting twists and turns, the cinematography is almost perfect and the characters are interesting enough. As one character tries to escape with a suitcase full of money and an implacable killer decides to grab the loot for itself, there are a few terrific suspense scenes, and the film itself is simply mesmerizing. But then there’s the ending. In an effort to stick as closely to the Cormac McCarthy novel as possible, the Coen Brothers deliberately send the film spinning out of control, leaving the plot threads dangling loose as the conclusion dissolves in ever-less-relevant scenes. There are several points at which the film would have been better had it stopped there: hope for equipment malfunction at the right moment. Which is a shame, because otherwise No Country For Old Men ranks as of the the better Coen films. Oh well; nothing perfect.

(In theaters, April 2004) There’s no denying that on the heels of Intolerable Cruelty, the Coen brothers have once again disappointed many with this lesser film. A remake that audaciously re-imagines the basic story of the London-based 1950s original in contemporary Southern Mississippi, The Ladykillers is a slight comedy that unfortunately loses interest as it winds up to its conclusion. The best two things about the film, as may be expected from the Coen Brothers, is the music and the secondary characters. While Tom Hanks gets all the flash and glory in the lead role of a cultured southern gentleman who decides to try his luck at crime, every character in the film speaks with their own cadence and idioms, a musicality of speech that meshes well with the musical background. (What O Brother, Where Art Thou? Did to folk music, this version of The Ladykillers does to gospel choirs, maybe even too much) Sadly, the relatively amusing first half of the film loses stem once the light crime comedy cedes its place to much darker and moralistic material. Suddenly, the film isn’t so much fun to watch. It doesn’t help that the lead character, a formidable black woman with a fearful sense of right and wrong, is such a dull character. While the film is supposed to revolve around her, her presence just isn’t as compelling as the dastardly villains she’s facing. Oh well; Quirky is the word, but then again quirky is what the Coen Brothers are all about, occasional misfires and all.

(In theaters, October 2003) The Coen Brothers doing a romantic comedy? Believe it… and it’s just about as quirky as their other films. George Clooney scores another great performance as a teeth-obsessed attorney who comes to be fascinated by a beautiful woman (the luminous Catherine Zeta-Jones) who’s out to get as much money as she can. Will they get together? Will it last? Will it have a happy ending? I can’t seriously answer that without spoiling the fun. Suffice to say that this is the Coen Brothers’ funniest film since The Big Lebowski. While Intolerable Cruelty isn’t particularly high on belly laughs, it’s amusing throughout and plays without too many false notes. The supporting characters alone are worth seeing. Some particularly witty sequences are built around the script’s cynical take on relationship, with the result that this romantic comedy feels rather more comedic than the usual puff-fluff rom-com. Good stuff.

(In theaters, November 2001) Most Coen-Brothers films take at least two viewings to appreciate, but even knowing that, The Man Who Wasn’t There remains a disappointment. Oh, it starts well enough, with an unremarkable protagonist slowwwly being sucked in a web of criminal acts. But then the Brothers get weird on us, and in short order we’re asked to juggle a noir storyline with elements of aliens, oral sex and ironic punishment. I know, I know; it sounds good on paper, but doesn’t translate as well on-screen. It would be foolish to deny the depth of the screenplay, what with its constant return to the conformity of the American dream. Nor would it be useful to ignore the visual polish of the black-and-white cinematography, which gives rise to some powerful imagery. But with its languid and divergent second half, The Man Who Wasn’t There tests even the most indulgent viewer and diminishes its impact. A second viewing will be useful… but can wait a few years.

(In theaters, June 2001) The problem with pictures made by the Coen Brothers is that you can’t comment them fairly after seeing them only once. Their latest, a series of adventures set in depression-era Deep South, is both exceptional and average, interesting and boring, witty and muddled. George Clooney exhibits considerable charm as always, playing a fast-talking shady character sympathetic enough to hold the film together. O Brother, Where Art Thou? is a film unlike anything you’ve seen before, with music you haven’t heard before and sight you’re unlikely to see again. The mixture of folk music, southern accents and gold-tinted visuals is far, far away from the current Hollywood aesthetics. As far as the story goes, however, some are bound to be disappointed; the film wanders a lot, like the three protagonists, and viewers are likely to remember individual sequences, not a common plot. As a comedy, it’s decidedly low-octane; a steady smile, a few giggles but few outright laughs. Parallels with Homer’s The Odyssey might be overstated, unless you want to impress your date.

(In theaters, November 2000) This thriller by the Coen brother takes a long, long, long time to get going, as we’re introduced to an array of increasingly unsympathetic characters who all seem to be doing their best to become even more unlikable. Eventually, though, the plot mechanics so laboriously introduced all come into play, and the film gets progressively more interesting. Already obvious from their first film is the Coens’ eye for good images, which remains interesting even when the rest isn’t.