Created by Rita Molnár 2001, CC BY-SA 2.5, via Wikimedia Commons
.jpg){kind=link}
By Geoff Carter
In The New Wave 2.0 series, The Pen in Hand Blog will be examining the work of today’s most provocative and influential filmmakers, artists whose singular filmic stylings and visionary storytelling have stretched the boundaries of cinema. Drawing upon Francois Truffaut’s definition of an auteur, these pieces will be looking at writer/directors whose singular works have transcended the art of filmmaking and taken it into the realm of genius. This week, The Pen in Blog will be looking at the strangely idiosyncratic filmic world of Joel and Ethan Coen.
Expecting the Unexpected: The Films of the Coen Brothers
The settings of their films have spanned the frozen prairies of Minnesota, the balmy beaches of Malibu, the seamy lower East Side of New York, the backstreets of Hollywood, and everywhere in between. And in many ways, the Coen Brothers—always chameleonlike in their intentions—and as fearless as they are in their interweaving of cinematic genres, are distinctively American filmmakers. Not only do they use the map of the United States as their template, but many of their character display the explicitly American habit of taking shortcuts—specifically criminal shortcuts—to get what they want.
Unlike other auteurs examined in these pieces, Coen Brothers films are not defined by stylized visuals, (like Tim Burton or Wes Anderson), one specific locale (like Woody Allen or Martin Scorsese) or a lingering mood (like Jim Jarmusch), but by no-win narrative situations that catch unwary characters wandering into the unknown—and unknowable, not unlike dinosaurs walking into a tar pit.
Much has been written about the “philosophy” of Joel and Ethan Coen, their underlying thematic message; some critics maintain that their films are about the absence of meaning, others state realities inhabited by their characters—like the suburban Minnesota setting in Fargo—are pockets of civility and in a dangerously violent and unpredictable world, and that the lives of characters like Marge Gunderson, Jeff Lebowski, and Norville Barnes are insular existences that secure them from an unpredictable and hostile universe. Marge is shielded by her belief in law and order—and a loving husband, Lebowski by his own fragile bubble of coolness, and Norville by his idealistic belief in the American dream. These are the touchstones which key most realities, but in Joel and Ethan Coen’s world, they turn out to be the flimsiest of anchors in a turbulent and capricious world.
In fact, the only really predictable thing about a Coen Brothers movie is its unpredictability. Hail Caesar! is an oddly combined pastiche of film noir, screwball comedy, and Hollywood tribute that seems to take one left turn after another. Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin), a studio fixer, is taxed with—among other sundry tasks—solving the disappearance of Baird Whitlock (George Clooney), the studio’s moronic leading man. As Mannix wanders through the lot, witnessing a Busby Berkeley type swim extravaganza, an acrobatic Western sequence, and an all-mail sailor dance sequence, all lovingly—and hilariously—choreographed, his encounters with the actors, producers, and gossip columnists (twin sisters Thora and Thessaly Thacker—played brilliantly by Tilda Swinton) range from the acerbic to the absurd. The Coens turn the expectations of the noir genre on its head by incorporating elements of screwball comedy, black humor while still maintaining a sublime undercurrent.
The Big Lebowski similarly manipulates the expectations of the noir genre. It would be difficult to find a more inept private eye than Jeff Lebowski, aka the Dude. When he finds himself thrown headfirst into a seamy world of family intrigues, violent nihilism, and California pornography. Confronted with these unexpected incursions into his world of loose joints and bowling leagues, the Dude—almost despite himself—figures things out. The film is hilarious because of his plight, but the Dude is not the butt of the joke—it is his insistence that he is in control of a world gone completely awry. The Dude abides—Lebowski’s creed and the film’s message, is why the film is a cult classic. For all his ineptitude and cluelessness, the Dude is unflappable. He refuses to be intimidated by an unpredictable reality,
Some of the brothers’ works also reflect the darkness of a universe gone awry. A Serious Man follows Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg), a professor whose life is dissolving before his very eyes, through an existence laced with wisps of his past. Or Inside Llewyn Davis, a film about an aspiring folksinger in 1960s Greenwich Village who discovers the loneliness and alienation of a mediocre artist in an cold—literally—world.
Coen Brothers films can be unexpected combinations of tragedy and comedy, yet they are painstakingly and lovingly constructed. O Brother, Where Art Thou? is the most unlikely combination of narratives. Even though the first frame claims the movie is based on Homer’s Odyssey, and elements of the story (including the Sirens and Polyphemus) are in it, the brothers have denied using the epic poem as its basis.
The film begins with a jailbreak, contains a character who has sold his soul to the devil for guitar playing prowess, has an immaculately choreographed (and morbidly incongruous) KKK rally, and features some of the best old-timey country music around. And despite—perhaps because of—the absurdly wild plot, it is a brilliant piece of filmmaking. The three escapees, Everett (George Clooney), Pete (John Turturro), and Delmar (Tim Blake Nelson) bounce through Depression-era Alabama on their quest, encountering a world on the brink of change, a land soon to be flooded by the Tennessee Valley Authority.
The Coens have delved into the genres of film noir, screwball comedy, the Western, political thrillers, caper films, and even anthologies (The Ballad of Buster Scruggs), bending and twisting narratives and expectations to create their own beautiful and cryptic universes. Yet—and unexpectedly—they occasionally play it straight. Probably one of their best films, No Country for Old Men, is a painstakingly conceived and executed film, is a brilliantly made thriller that remains true to Cormac McCarthy’s original novel. Most recently, Joel Coen adapted and directed The Tragedy of Macbeth with Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand, a highly stylized and almost expressionistic version of the Shakespeare classic. No mashups there.
Part of the definition of an auteur(s) is that any part of their oeuvre is recognizable as their work. This is decidedly true of the Coen Brothers. And while their films may be self-referential and lean heavily on the rich history of the Hollywood film, they are decidedly profound as well as being exquisitely entertaining. You never know with these guys. A tossed newspaper, a mosquito getting breakfast, a lost CD, or green toenail polish could be the keys to an entire dark universe.