Now I've Seen Everything Dep't-Update: The Coen Brothers (The Cosmopolitan Years)

It's always been the Coen Brothers as a writing-directing team, although Joel is more often the guy calling the camera shots and both Ethan and he write the screenplays, and Ethan produces. The sensibilities that intertwine the two make the creative decisions that make or break these movies, so it's a little hard to be able to discern exactly who does what. The fact of the matter is, they both do (and Roderick Jaymes, their regular editor is actually a psuedonym for the two).

The Coens have always had an eye to bringing out the best of their material, be it original work or adaptation, with edgy actors who can produce drama and comedy equally well. They successfully tread from the independent film circuit to mainstream cinema in a very short period of time, and their work is of such an obviously high caliber that audiences connected with them not long after critics did, and not even that blind industry ogre, Oscar, could delay giving them top honors. Their acting company contains A-listers and up-and-coming character actors on their way to the A-list. Their biggest-budgeted film was also their biggest failure. And they have such a peculiar sensibility that confounds and even tweaks expectations that their most devoted fans have Coen movies that they can't explain or fathom...and sometimes simply disregard.

But each film is a complicated moebius strip of cruel fate and clueless human failings, reflecting and refracting the rich vein of material from both the cinematic and literary past. It may start as inspiration, but it becomes increasingly Coen to the final frame.


The Big Lebowski (1998) It's a little inside: an L.A. mystery story that recalls the imagery and style of Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe, but in the guise of "The Dude."* Through no fault of his own, the perpetually half-mast Dude (Jeff Bridges) is assaulted in his home, and his favorite rug urinated on, which ignites a long-dormant desire for justice and payback. That he gets pulled into a kidnapping plot by another Lebowski, a well-heeled California family, with a crippled father-figure and a collection of entitlement-addled kids, is just gravy to getting a rug out of the deal. Narrated by a laconic Sam Elliott in the first-person, and with frequent drug-and-movie-influenced fantasy sequences when The Dude is knocked unconscious (a Marlowe specialty!), "The Big Lebowski" is a brilliant flash-forward to the seamy side of The City of Angels that Chandler documented during the '40's and '50's. Another stellar cast (great work by John Goodman, Steve Buscemi, John Turturro, Julianne Moore, David Huddleston, and an early turn by Philip Seymour Hoffman) headed by Bridges tells a great detective story that doesn't feel like a detective story, but works more like an indictment of society, which is Chandler to a finely-crafted metaphor, proving that not only does the Dude abide, but Chandler's neon-flashed mean streets do, as well.

Of all the Coen's films, this one seems to have struck the cultural nerve with the deepest roots. If you're making plans, this year's LebowskiFest ("A Celebration of All Things Lebowski") starts in Los Angeles May 7th and 8th. Here's the poster:




O Brother, Where Art Thou?* (2000) "You shall see a cow on top of a cotton bale, and many other startlements," intones a blind prophet to the three escaped inmates (George Clooney, John Turturro, and Tim Blake Nelson). To say nothing of a blue-grass themed fantasia equal parts Homer, L. Frank Baum, and Depression-era musical. The startlements are a-plenty, including a Busby Berkley-inspired Ku Klux Klan rally, a phantasmagorical flash-flood on the prairie, as well as instant, anonymous fame. "O Brother, Where Are Thou?" is an odd, perfect blend of grit, dirt and fairy-dust, with a star-making turn that throws George Clooney directly into Clark Gable territory—although his fellow prison escapees Turturro and Nelson are just as good—along with great work by John Goodman (as a cyclopsian double-dealing travelling salesman), Holly Hunter, and Charles Durning. The soundtrack became a platinum seller producing a bluegrass mini-craze and the film, the Coen's most assured crowd-pleaser—although folks probably weren't exactly sure why.


The Man Who Wasn't There(2002) After their most successful film, the Coen's moved against type again with one almost no one saw. "The Man Who Wasn't There" is a luridly-titled, luridly plotted black and white contemplation on the type of pot-boiler James M. Cain would concoct but told absolutely straight. There are no hysterics in this movie (although hysterical things happen, including murders and suicides)—as a matter of fact, Billy Bob Thornton plays his barber Ed Crane without much emotion at all. Chain-smoking, narrating in a dull monotone, Ed decides he's going to invest in 1949's latest technological miracle—dry-cleaning. To get his investment stake, he surreptitiously blackmails the owner of Nerdlinger's department store (James Gandolfini), whom Ed knows is having an affair with his alcoholic wife (Frances McDormand). The ensuing "incredible mess" occurs, leading to complications that ensure both Ed and his wife being tried for murders neither one of them committed. The tone is different and the era is new, but one starts to feel the sameness of a Coen formula creeping in as far as plot while the stylistic window-dressing is changed. Still, Roger Deakins' cinematography (photographed in color, but printed in black and white) is luxurious to look at, and makes this entry stand out for that one element.


Intolerable Cruelty (2003) After the slight mustiness of "The Man Who Wasn't There," this one is at least different. There are a lot of people who despise this movie enough to claim that the Coen's didn't really make it; they did, and it's one of their most conventional (and thereby unconventional) films. Crass, bawdy and cynical to the core, it still manages to be a love story set in the world of L.A. divorce lawyers. In this world of circling sharks, the Coens dare to bring up the word "trust."

Miles Massey (George Clooney, in an archly comic performance) is at the top of his game and beset by ennui. Legendary in his trade for the unbreakable, iron-clad "Massey Pre-nup," he has climbed the top of the pyramid only to find...nothing. Dissatisfied with his mansion built on sand, he's looking for something to believe in—a challenge to his game, and he finds it in Marilyn Rexroth (Catherine Zeta-Jones, oozing danger), the soon-to-be-ex-wife of his current client. Opposing her in court, he becomes gob-smacked and follows her gold-digging career with a combination of fascination and hero-worship, only to watch her re-marry to Texas oilman Billy Bob Thornton, who, to display his unquestioning devotion eats his Pre-nup (with barbecue sauce) at the wedding reception. A lot of sharp dialogue delivered at a fast pace; imagine a Tracy-Hepburn movie with a really rancid sense of humor and you've got this movie. Excellent supporting work by Paul Adelstein, Richard Jenkins, and Julia Duffy. Favorite joke: the matrimonial attorney organization that holds its convention in Las Vegas is called N.O.M.A.N. and their slogan is "Let N.O.M.A.N. put asunder."


The Ladykillers (2004) Something of a mis-fire, this Americanized remake of a beloved 1955 Ealing Brothers comedy (starring Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers, and Herbert Lom) was intended to be directed by the Coens' old cinematographer Barry Sonnenfeld, who pulled out of the job. So, the Coens directed instead. The plot is basically the same: a gang of miscreants led by a dark Professor (Tom Hanks) rents a room from a clueless old woman (Irma P. Hall), as it is the perfect location to dig a tunnel to a vault where they can steal a fortune. In this case, it's a riverboat casino. Things go Incredibly Wrong (mostly due to the incompetence and internal bickering of the gang-members) and they soon wind up (each of them in turn) on a garbage scow heading down the river to be dumped. How the Coens arrange for everybody (and everything) to be deposited on that barge stretches credultiy a bit, and as a final ironic knife twist, the woman, left with the money and no criminals to spend it, contributes the entire fortune to Bob Jones University

When things go wrong... Unfortunately, the same can be said of the film as well.

The Coens would rebound and spectacularly.


No Country for Old Men (2007) The one that won all the marbles: Oscars for Best Screenplay, Best Supporting Actor (Javier Bardem), Best Directors, and Best Picture. And yet "No Country for Old Men" was never a sure thing. Based, or should I say (as it's the fashion now), "slavishly adapted" from Cormac McCarthy's book, it seems like a perfect fit for the Coen's, who changed little, but meticulously cast it.

And, one should add, brought it to life—no small accomplishment.
One would think, looking back over their history, that "No Country for Old Men" could have been written just for them, as so many elements of their past films and the structure of it (not to mention the outlandishness of the deeds and the obliqueness of the dialog) are contained in it. However it happened—by devious planning or the serendipity of coincidence—story and directors appear to be made for each other.

Full review here: No Country for Old Men


Burn After Reading (2008) Another change-up pitch coming after their Oscar success, "Burn After Reading" is a satirical romp, mixing two groups of the hopelessly narcissistic: the self-improvement gym crowd, and "K" street intelligence workers. A mix of Coen regulars (Clooney, McDormand, J.K. Simmons and the nearly invisible Richard Jenkins given a prominent, heart-breaking role) with new blood (Brad Pitt—who's hilariously dumb,*** John Malkovich, Tilda Swinton, and David Rasche), it's a "get-rich-quick-scheme" turned deadly when a bunch of rank amateurs think they can play the same game as the pro's. Meanwhile, the CIA monitors the situation, refusing to act until theings get particularly ugly (wow, just like real life). It's the Coens doing the spy genre, the way they do everything else, with a cheery dark humor and following the letter of Murphy's Law. 

Full review here: Burn After Reading


A Serious Man (2009)  Myth and reality mix it up in modern times, but which is it? Oh, don't asky why? Don't make it complicated. "Embrace the mystery."

But, do so at your own risk.

I thought this was the best movie of 2009 for what it said about life and the observation of it (who said "an unexamined life is not worth living?"), but also how it mixed myth, reality and perception (even as we watch the movie unfold in a theater) in a literate, apt way.  Some critics jusy looked at the Coen's faith (or lack of it in practical terms) and judged it "anti-semitic."  Schmucks.  Here are better observations from some wildly disparate view-points:

http://toddalcott.livejournal.com/287862.html
http://scienceblogs.com/cortex/2010/03/magical_thinking.php
http://blogs.indiewire.com/thompsononhollywood/2010/03/01/a_serious_man_26_righteous_men_theory/

Full review here: A Serious Man

Today is something of a nirvana day for me: The Coen brothers' version of one of my favorite novels, Charles Portis' "True Grit" opens, and the subject and creators couldn't be more apt.  I love the 1969 "John Wayne" version, but always felt it missed the mark a bit from the book ("You shot him in the lower lip?  What were ya aimin' at?" "His upper lip!" A bit like that).  Steven Spielberg is the exec behind it.  The Coens working for Spielberg.  That is something. 

* "The Dude" is based on one of the publicists the Coens met when they were shopping "Blood Simple" around the film-festival circuit," Jeff Dowd. Dowd is one of those fixtures in the L.A. film community that you wonder how they make a living, and as such he's a modern counter-point to Chandler's Philip Marlowe who always seemed to be out of work, without portfolio, schedule or prospects.

** "O, Brother, Where Art Thou?" is the title of the film director John Sullivan wants to make in "Sullivan's Travels."

*** This was particularly on their minds during its construction, referring to the story as a "duelling idiots" movie. Reportedly, after shooting his last scene, Clooney remarked: "OK, I've played my last idiot!" ("I guess that's the last time he works for us," says Joel) When told they'd written his part specifically for him, Pitt mentioned he didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, and added he wasn't sure how to play the part—"There was a pause and Joel said 'You'll be fine.'"

Now I've Seen Everything Dep't (Update): The Coen Brothers (The Prairie Years)

It's always been the Coen Brothers as a writing-directing team, although Joel is more often the guy calling the camera shots and both Ethan and he write the screenplays, and Ethan produces. The sensibilities that intertwine the two make the creative decisions that make or break these movies, so it's a little hard to be able to discern exactly who does what. The Fact of the matter is, they both do (and Roderick Jaymes, their regular editor is actually a pseudonym for the two).

The Coens have always had an eye to bringing out the best of their material, be it original work or adaptation, with edgy actors who can produce drama and comedy equally well. They successfully tread from the independent film circuit to mainstream cinema in a very short period of time, and their work is of such an obviously high caliber that audiences connected with them not long after critics did, and not even that blind industry ogre, Oscar, could delay giving them top honors. Their acting company contains A-listers and up-and-coming character actors on their way to the A-list. Their biggest-budgeted film was also their biggest failure. And they have such a peculiar sensibility that confounds and even tweaks expectations that their most devoted fans have Coen movies that they can't explain or fathom...and sometimes simply disregard.

But each film is a complicated moebius strip of cruel fate and clueless human failings, reflecting and refracting the rich vein of material from both the cinematic and literary past. It may start as inspiration, but it becomes increasingly Coen to the final frame.


Blood Simple (1984) I read about "the buzz" surrounding this film in Time Magazine, and decided to attend the premiere at the Seattle International Film Festival (complete with Coen Bros. Q & A afterwards). A more violent, solitary and sinister take on James M. Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice, and Double Indemnity, what stuck were the sick sense of humor, the brazen camera moves by DP Barry Sonnenfeld (I always remember that one sliding the bar that vaults the drunk lying across it--they probably wouldn't pull that one today) and the set-piece structure. what was also clear was that the Coens were studious, not content to show the highlights, but to delve into the psychology of the situation. Case in point: the sequence when stud Ray (John Getz) is getting rid of the body of his lover Abby's husband (Dan Hedaya) — he thinks she killed him and is trying to protect her—by driving it in the middle-of-the-night down a two-lane highway surrounded seemingly infinitely by farm-land. He hears the husband begin to wake up, and in a moment of panic pulls over and flees the car, running into the field.

And stops. And stands there, looking at his car with the lights on, sitting on the freeway with a not-quite-dead body in it. And there's a perfect Coen situation: what do you do? What can you do? You have to go back, or else someone's going to find the car--your car, with the body inside--eventually, but you're scared to death to go back. You have to go back. There's no choice. he has top go back. And the Coen's don't cut a frame of the entire terrifying walk back. Hitchcock meets Truffaut...again. Only Hitchcock would never be so rural.

At the Q&A, the low-key Coen's took the amused audience's questions with matter-of-fact answers, until one blow-hard schlumpfed to his feet. "Why so much blood?" he yelled at the stage. The Coen's blinked, looked at each other. Joel said, "It was dramatically necessary." Ethan, said "People bleed, man." "Bullshit!!" said the questioner. It was a portent to the violent reactions that the Coens would generate no matter what movie they made, what genre they explored. You can't please everybody.


Raising Arizona (1987) Picketed at the time of its release (because a baby was used in the stunt sequences--one wasn't, of course--but you can't tell that to biddies with signs!!), The Coen's mordant sense humor is on fine display on their first out-and-out comedy.

The comic sense of "Raising Arizona" is as dry and dead-pan as its desert locations, and its peripatetic zinging around the flat-lands (both in terms of the protagonists and the camera work) has the speed and geometry of Chuck Jones's "Road-Runner" cartoons.Nicolas Cage is H.I. McDunnough, Picasso-asymmetrical in his look, even has the hang-dog look of Wile E. Coyote. As his better quarter in "The Family Unit," Edwina (Holly Hunter) is all bantam chicken-hawk, chest out and lines belted to the loges...in the theater across town. The ying/yang-zing-zing of the McDunnoughs would be enough for most films, but "Raising Arizona" has peripheral characters of mythical proportions threatening their double-wide existence, including John Goodman and William Forsythe as former prison acquaintances, who literally rise up from the Earth, and Randall 'Tex' Cobb as a smouldering biker-"warthog from Hell." Invaluable in the mix is Trey Wilson as Nathan Arizona, the unfinished furniture King whose family's sudden density inspires the childless McDunnoughs to baby-napping. The energy the Coen's instilled in "Raising Arizona" was probably siphoned some of the nitrous oxide of their crony, Sam Raimi, who's "Evil Dead" movies have the same sort of manic intensity. The intensity would remain. The mania would occasionally re-surface.


Miller's Crossing (1990) Coen Brothers, formalized. When they turn serious, the Coens turn very serious, and their first study without a hint of the sly, off-putting humor is this small scale mob movie with big themes in the style of Dashiell Hammett. Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) is a foot-soldier in Big Leo's (Albert Finney) bootleg whiskey business during Prohibition, in a small industrialized eastern town. Despite their differences, rival hood Johnny Caspar (the wonderful Jon Polito), is polite enough to request that his gang "whack" loose cannon Bernie Bermbaum (John Turturro). Bernie is brother to Leo's moll Verna (Marcia Gay Harden), and so refuses, despite the complications the duplicitous Bernie causes to both sides. Tom would like to see Bernie gone, because he's also seeing Verna on the side, and the complicated loyalties/disloyalties he engenders will turn to blood-shed on both personal and business levels. A great cast telling a subtle story, with just a tinge of Bertolucci atmospherics, Miller's Crossing is a full-blooded masterwork.


Barton Fink (1991) The Coens experimented with surrealism in Raising Arizona, but they turn the stage completely over to that realm with this satire of hypocritical "kitchen-sink" theater writers slumming in Hollywood screenplays. Barton Fink (John Turturro) is clearly based on Clifford Odets, the leftist-playwright who named names before the House Un-American Activities Committee ("I'll show them the face of a true radical" Odets crowed, only to cave and name names when he appeared). Fink, fresh off another theater triumph, signs on with Capital Pictures to write a Wallace Beery wrestling movie and retreats to the Hotel Earle, whose eerie deformities and distractions only enforce his writer's block on the subject. Part of it is lack of inspiration. Part of it is that East Coast intellectual Fink knows little of hard-knock reality, except what he can romantically invent. Visits by working stiff travelling salesman Charlie Meadows (John Goodman) (whom Fink dismisses to his detriment) and alcoholic writer W.P. Mayhew (John Mahoney) only complicates matters. "Barton Fink" is such an angry, vindictive film that it's more off-putting than entertaining, but the visual and sonic inventiveness of the Coens is on full display to make the audience...and Fink squirm in their chairs (This is the first Coen film photographed by their essential collaborator Roger Deakins). But despite their obvious animosity towards Fink, they allow him to emerge from their creative Hell, more or less unscathed...but still a bit myopic.



The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)The first genuine bomb created by the Coen's, this big-budget collaboration between the brothers, producer Joel Silver and Sam Raimi told a Capra-esque pastiche by way of Preston Sturges and Ayn Rand about an up-and-coming business student (Tim Robbins) assuming a corporate position under false pretenses, who manages to save the failing Hudsucker Company with the most worthless of inventions—the hula-hoop. If it weren't the story of "Wham-O" it might be bizarre enough a story to tell. As it is, the film strains any good feelings it has by stilted performances from Paul Newman and Jennifer Jason Leigh and a production that seems to care more about the architecture and the whizzing camera-work than anything resembling character. Silver, who was a mega-producer at this point, producing many of the Schwarzenegger action movies and the "Die Hard" series seemed to have the magic touch at this stage of his career, and threw all sorts of money into this project only to see the film rejected by audiences even as a cult hit.

The Coens were angling for respectability with The Hudsucker Proxy. But returning to their roots with their next film garnered the attention they were seeking.


Fargo (1996) "THIS IS A TRUE STORY. The events depicted in this film took place in Minnesota in 1987. At the request of the survivors, the names have been changed. Out of respect for the dead, the rest has been told exactly as it occurred."

Yeah, not so much, I think. Despite an opening crawl that says the story is based on true incidents, the crimes of "Fargo" never happened, but might have been pieced together from several incidents. Car salesman Jerry Lundegaard (William H. Macy), frustrated trying to secure income from his father-in-law (Harve Presnell) conspires with a couple of roughnecks (Peter Stormare, Steve Buscemi) to kidnap his wife and hold her for ransom.

Then, what the heck, things go terribly, terribly wrong.

Fitting nicely in the "terrible mess" school of comedy (where well-organized plots go hilariously awry), the kidnapping-gone-wrong is soon being investigated by the highlight of the movie (among many) in the character of very pregnant Police Chief Marge Gunderson (Frances McDormand), who sweetly waddles through the horrific story looking at clues with a clear eye and common sense. Audiences loved Marge ("You betcha!") and feared for her, travelling as she did, the first true moral compass to appear in the amoral Universe of a Coen Brothers movie.

Next: The Coen Brothers (The Cosmopolitan Years)

A Serious Man

"Dybbuk Stops Here" or "Shlimazel Tov"

Mel Brooks once described comedy thus: "Tragedy is when I cut my finger. Comedy is when you walk into an open sewer and die."

Chevy Chase once queried: "If Helen Keller fell down in a forest, would she make a sound?"

The point being that the act of observation calls into question the validity and interpretation of something happening. The one thing on which anthropologists, media critics and quantum physicists agree is that looking at something may change it's behavior.* Without observation we can't be sure: is the cat in the box alive or dead?; would the Louds have divorced without the filming of "An American Family?" Did the presence of Margaret Mead change the behavior of the Samoans she was studying? If a schlemiel spills hot soup on a shlimazel in an empty restaurant, is it a brokh or bupkes? Scrutiny changes things.

Take Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg). When we first see him, Larry is being scrutinized right down to his bones—he's having a chest X-ray performed. But the dissection doesn't stop there. A physics professor, he's being considered ... closely ... for tenure by his department-heads. His curriculum involves lectures on understanding the Universe through mathematics to explain such scientific folklore as the quantum theories of Schrödinger's cat and Heisenberg's "Uncertainty Principle."

But if Larry wanted to teach them about "Verschränkung" and make it stick, all he'd have to do is plan a field-trip to his own Minneapolis house. There, his world is being mired in cosmic strings.

His wife (Sari Lennick) wants a divorce—specifically a "get,"** a Jewish divorce decree, so that she can remarry in the faith—as she's been "seeing" family-friend Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed)—the "serious man" of the title. Sy's giving Larry "serious" tsuris by being gentlemanly about stealing his wife, but he has to stand in line to do it. His son Danny (Aaron Wolff), who's about to be bar-mitzvahed, is a pot-head and a nudzh, as self-absorbed as his daughter (Jessica McManus). Then there's Larry's brother Arthur (Richard Kind), an out-of-work nudnik who gambles and is constantly draining a sebaceous cyst, while working on his own form of physics—a "Mentaculus"—literally, scribblings in a notebook, that somehow develops a system for winning at poker. A South Korean student of Larry's is trying to get a better grade to keep his scholarship, and Larry finds an envelope of C-notes on his desk; is the student trying to bribe him? He can't really know without seeing the student place the envelope on his desk. He's also being vaguely warned by a colleague that his tenure is in danger from anonymous "denigrating" letters to the deciding committee. From whom? For what? Larry has no control over these events, does nothing (as he says again and again) to provoke them, and everywhere he turns, more pile on and on and on, like an equation, or an involved comedic story, that has no resolution.

As they say, it's always something.

But Larry keeps looking for answers—from his lawyers, from his rabbi's—some bissel, or quantum, of understanding of what is happening to him, trying to find the presence of Hashem in all of this. But even from the roof-tops he can't gain perspective. The signals aren't clear, and there's always a new disaster around every corner, behind every phone-call. And in the close-knit Jewish community, there is always scrutiny, if only from God.

It's a wonderful conceit from the literate Coen Brothers: taking the messy travails that assault the Jewish men in the works of, say, Isaac Bashevis Singer, Saul Bellow, or Philip Roth and looking for the answers in quantum mechanics, where the concerns of God might have been previously. But, they also take it to another meta level, where the artificial world of cinema (or fiction) adds another level of scrutiny.

Orson Welles said, "If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story." After a sense of complacency, "A Serious Man" ends on the cusp of two more disasters, literally going to black before they hit. Who knows? Maybe the very act of not observing the outcomes may change them. Maybe we're complicit in the disasters, as is implied by quantum mechanics, as God might have been in the old world.

What does God want? Maybe exactly the same thing that an audience wants—a good show. And the act of observing manifests it quantumly for the shlimazels.

Damned clever, these Coens. Turning movie-watching into a study in physics. You don't see that every day.***

Having seen "A Serious Man," I think it's a Full-Price Ticket. Outcomes may vary.

* It's formal name is "The Hawthorne Effect," or "Observer Effect."

** "A what?" asks all the specialists in the movie when confronted with this word.

*** Actually, you probably have if you've seen "No Country for Old Men," or "Burn After Reading." The film-makers, there, are concerned with the pre-determination of destiny and randomness.

Now I've Seen Everything, Dept.: The Coen Brothers (The Cosmopolitan Years)

It's always been the Coen Brothers as a writing-directing team, although Joel is more often the guy calling the camera shots and both Ethan and he write the screenplays, and Ethan produces. The sensibilities that intertwine the two make the creative decisions that make or break these movies, so it's a little hard to be able to discern exactly who does what. The fact of the matter is, they both do (and Roderick Jaymes, their regular editor is actually a psuedonym for the two).

The Coens have always had an eye to bringing out the best of their material, be it original work or adaptation, with edgy actors who can produce drama and comedy equally well. They successfully tread from the independent film circuit to mainstream cinema in a very short period of time, and their work is of such an obviously high caliber that audiences connected with them not long after critics did, and not even that blind industry ogre, Oscar, could delay giving them top honors. Their acting company contains A-listers and up-and-coming character actors on their way to the A-list. Their biggest-budgeted film was also their biggest failure. And they have such a peculiar sensibility that confounds and even tweaks expectations that their most devoted fans have Coen movies that they can't explain or fathom...and sometimes simply disregard.

But each film is a complicated moebius strip of cruel fate and clueless human failings, reflecting and refracting the rich vein of material from both the cinematic and literary past. It may start as inspiration, but it becomes increasingly Coen to the final frame.


"The Big Lebowski" (1998) It's a little inside: an L.A. mystery story that recalls the imagery and style of Raymond Chandler's Philip Marlowe, but in the guise of "The Dude."* Through no fault of his own, the perpetually half-mast Dude (Jeff Bridges) is assaulted in his home, and his favorite rug urinated on, which ignites a long-dormant desire for justice and payback. That he gets pulled into a kidnapping plot by another Lebowski, a well-heeled California family with a crippled father-figure and a collection of entitlement-addled kids, is just gravy to getting a rug out of the deal. Narrated by a laconic Sam Elliott in the first-person, and with frequent drug-and-movie-influenced fantasy sequences when The Dude is knocked unconscious (a Marlowe specialty!), "The Big Lebowski" is a brilliant flash-forward to the seamy side of The City of Angels that Chandler documented during the '40's and '50's. Another stellar cast (great work by John Goodman, Steve Buscemi, John Turturro, Julianne Moore, David Huddleston, and an early turn by Philip Seymour Hoffman) headed by Bridges tells a great detective story that doesn't feel like a detective story, but works more like an indictment of society, which is Chandler to a finely-crafted metaphor, proving that not only does the Dude abide, but Chandler's neon-flashed mean streets do, as well.

Of all the Coen's films, this one seems to have struck the cultural nerve with the deepest roots. If you're making plans, this year's LebowskiFest ("A Celebration of All Things Lebowski") starts in Los Angeles May 7th and 8th. Here's the poster:




"O Brother, Where Art Thou?"* (2000) "You shall see a cow on top of a cotton bale, and many other startlements," intones a blind prophet to the three escaped inmates (George Clooney, John Turturro, and Tim Blake Nelson). To say nothing of a blue-grass themed fantasia equal parts Homer, L. Frank Baum, and Depression-era musical. The startlements are a-plenty, including a Busby Berkley-inspired Ku Klux Klan rally, a phantasmagorical flash-food on the prairie, as well as instant, anonymous fame. "O Brother, Where Are Thou?" is an odd, perfect blend of grit, dirt and fairy-dust, with a star-making turn that throws George Clooney directly into Clark Gable territory—although his fellow prison escapees Turturro and Nelson are just as good—along with great work by John Goodman (as a cyclopsian double-dealing travelling salesman), Holly Hunter, and Charles Durning. The soundtrack became a platinum seller producing a bluegrass mini-craze and the film, the Coen's most assured crowd-pleaser—although folks probably weren't exactly sure why.


"The Man Who Wasn't There"(2002) After their most successful film, the Coen's moved against type again with one almost no one saw. "The Man Who Wasn't There" is a luridly-titled, luridly plotted black and white contemplation on the type of pot-boiler James M. Cain would concoct but told absolutely straight. There are no hysterics in this movie (although hysterical things happen, including murders and suicides)—as a matter of fact, Billy Bob Thornton plays his barber Ed Crane without much emotion at all. Chain-smoking, narrating in a dull monotone, Ed decides he's going to invest in 1949's latest technological miracle—dry-cleaning. To get his investment stake, he surreptitiously blackmails the owner of nerdlinger's department store (James Gandolfini), whom Ed knows is having an affair with his alcoholic wife (Frances McDormand). The ensuing "incredible mess" occurs, leading to complications that ensure both Ed and his wife being tried for murders neither one of them committed. The tone is different and the era is new, but one starts to feel the sameness of a Coen formula creeping in as far as plot while the stylistic window-dressing is changed. Still, Roger Deakins' cinematography (photographed in color, but printed in black and white) is luxurious to look at, and makes this entry stand out for that one element.


"Intolerable Cruelty" (2003) After the slight mustiness of "The Man Who Wasn't There," this one is at least different. There are a lot of people who despise this movie enough to claim that the Coen's didn't really make it; they did, and it's one of their most conventional (and thereby unconventional) films. Crass, bawdy and cynical to the core, it still manages to be a love story set in the world of L.A. divorce lawyers. In this world of circling sharks, the Coens dare to bring up the word "trust."

Miles Massey (George Clooney, in an archly comic performance) is at the top of his game and beset by ennui. Legendary in his trade for the unbreakable, iron-clad "Massey Pre-nup," he has climbed the top of the pyramid only to find...nothing. Dissatisfied with his mansion built on sand, he's looking for something to believe in—a challenge to his game, and he finds it in Marilyn Rexroth (Catherine Zeta-Jones, oozing danger), the soon-to-be-ex-wife of his current client. Opposing her in court, he becomes gob-smacked and follows her gold-digging career with a combination of fascination and hero-worship, only to watch her re-marry to Texas oilman Billy Bob Thornton, who, to display his unquestioning devotion eats his Pre-nup (with barbecue sauce) at the wedding reception. A lot of sharp dialogue delivered at a fast pace; imagine a Tracy-Hepburn movie with a really rancid sense of humor and you've got this movie. Excellent supporting work by Paul Adelstein, Richard Jenkins, and Julia Duffy. Favorite joke: the matrimonial attorney organization that holds its convention in Las Vegas is called N.O.M.A.N. and their slogan is "Let N.O.M.A.N. put asunder."


"The Ladykillers" (2004) Something of a mis-fire, this Americanized remake of a beloved 1955 Ealing Brothers comedy (starring Alec Guinness, Peter Sellers, and Herbert Lom) was intended to be directed by the Coens' old cinematographer Barry Sonnenfeld, who pulled out of the job. So, the Coens directed instead. The plot is basically the same: a gang of miscreants led by a dark Professor (Tom Hanks) rents a room from a clueless old woman (Irma P. Hall), as it is the perfect location to dig a tunnel to a vault where they can steal a fortune. In this case, it's a riverboat casino. Things go Incredibly Wrong (mostly due to the incompetence and internal bickering of the gang-members) and they soon wind up (each of them in turn) on a garbage scow heading down the river to be dumped. How the Coens arrange for everybody (and everything) to be deposited on that barge stretches credultiy a bit, and as a final ironic knife twist, the woman, left with the money and no criminals to spend it, contributes the entire fortune to Bob Jones University

When things go wrong... Unfortunately, the same can be said of the film as well.

The Coens would rebound and spectacularly.


"No Country for Old Men" (2007) The one that won all the marbles: Oscars for Best Screenplay, Best Supporting Actor (Javier Bardem), Best Directors, and Best Picture. And yet "No Country for Old Men" was never a sure thing. Based, or should I say (as it's the fashion now), "slavishly adapted" from Cormac McCarthy's book, it seems like a perfect fit for the Coen's, who changed little, but meticulously cast it.

And, one should add, brought it to life—no small accomplishment.

One would think, looking back over their history, that "No Country for Old Men" could have been written just for them, as so many elements of their past films and the structure of it (not to mention the outlandishness of the deeds and the obliqueness of the dialog) are contained in it. However it happened—by devious planning or the serendipity of coincidence—story and directors appear to be made for each other.

Full review here: No Country for Old Men


"Burn After Reading" (2008) Another change-up pitch coming after their Oscar success, "Burn After Reading" is a satirical romp, mixing two groups of the hopelessly narcissistic: the self-improvement gym crowd, and "K" street intelligence workers. A mix of Coen regulars (Clooney, McDormand, J.K. Simmons and the nearly invisible Richard Jenkins given a prominent, heart-breaking role) with new blood (Brad Pitt—who's hilariously dumb,*** John Malkovich, Tilda Swinton, and David Rasche), it's a "get-rich-quick-scheme" turned deadly when a bunch of rank amateurs think they can play the same game as the pro's. Meanwhile, the CIA monitors the situation, refusing to act until theings get particularly ugly (wow, just like real life). It's the Coens doing the spy genre, the way they do everything else, with a cheery dark humor and following the letter of Murphy's Law. And, as with all Coen Brothers comedies, quite a few didn't get it—citing examples that didn't seem to bother them at all in previous films.

Full review here: Burn After Reading


So, what's next? Another comedy, "A Serious Man" with Richard Kind, Adam Arkin, and George Wyner (three very funny actors, each with a distinctive off-putting rhythm) then they'll attempt to do a "serious" remake of Charles Portis' "True Grit." Can't wait. In the meantime, there's this recent work:

* "The Dude" is based on one of the publicists the Coens met when they were shopping "Blood Simple" around the film-festival circuit," Jeff Dowd. Dowd is one of those fixtures in the L.A. film community that you wonder how they make a living, and as such he's a modern counter-point to Chandler's Philip Marlowe who always seemed to be out of work, without portfolio, schedule or prospects.

** "O, Brother, Where Art Thou?" is the title of the film director John Sullivan wants to make in "Sullivan's Travels."

*** This was particularly on their minds during its construction, referring to the story as a "duelling idiots" movie. Reportedly, after shooting his last scene, Clooney remarked: "OK, I've played my last idiot!" ("I guess that's the last time he works for us," says Joel) When told they'd written his part specifically for him, Pitt mentioned he didn't know whether to be flattered or insulted, and added he wasn't sure how to play the part—"There was a pause and Joel said 'You'll be fine.'"