With their first two films, Blood Simple and Raising
Arizona, Joel and Ethan Coen established what would become a guiding
principle of their careers: their next film will be very different from their
last. Now that the Coens have been making movies for over thirty years, this
pattern has become more discernible, but for the first half of their careers,
this dynamic tended to stymie audiences. People who enjoyed the nuanced
ambience and crime narrative of the last film felt put off by the light-hearted
silliness, slapstick, and absurdity of the next one. Of course, given enough
time and the handful of breakout box-office successes in the Coens’ body of
work, this dynamic has easily shifted by disappointing fans of their offbeat
comedies with seemingly impenetrable works of moody soul-searching. O
Brother, Where Art Thou?, a quasi-musical road-trip farce based on The
Odyssey by Homer and set in the Depression-era South remains among the
Coens’ most bizarre concepts, so it stands to reason that their next film would
return to more familiar turf. Beyond the ever-changing look and tone of the
Coens’ films, they have established a consistent focus on what happens when
people break laws in attempts to better their individual stations in life.
Arriving within a year of the highly successful, O Brother, Where Art Thou?,
The Man Who Wasn’t There revisits the theme of upwardly mobile crime in
a deceptively stylish manner that exhibits the Coens’ strengths in storytelling
and celebrates the love they have for telling stories, as well.
A calm, slow grace accompanies The Man Who Wasn’t There
from start to finish. The quick, episodic pace of the 1930’s South of O
Brother, Where Art Thou? has been exchanged for a sedate, focused stride
through an unremarkable Southern California town in the 1950’s. Sepia tone
gives way to a rich and textured Black and White. After their first two films,
the Coens quickly began adding “period pieces” to the their repertoire, but
this is their first use of Black and White. This conscious choice of a more
date-appropriate film style enables the Coens to further luxuriate in the
details of the era including a quick visual guide to the popular haircuts of
the day, the elaborate and ornate sets of a local department store central to
the plot, and an afternoon spent at a distant relative’s countryside wedding.
The Coens proceed to lampoon this regard for the specifics with repeated scenes
among the characters that directly convey that no one is really paying
attention to anything. Tony Shalhoub’s character, the hotshot, A-list lawyer
Freddy Riedenschneider, bases an entire legal defense on Werner Heisenberg’s
uncertainty principle but not once manages to get the name of the scientist
right. Playing the central role of “The Barber” Ed Crane, Billy Bob Thornton
delivers a wonderful, two-fold performance through his subdued yet gripping
screen presence combined with his narration throughout the film that highlights
the Coens’ knack for beautifully composed, but absurdly mundane writing.
Constructing a film around a taciturn main character who shares limited dialog
with other characters on screen but supplies deliciously detailed commentary
throughout the film stands as one of the Coens’ best jokes.
The Man Who Wasn’t There sits squarely at a midpoint
in the Coens’ body of work between the depth and intensity of Fargo and No
Country for Old Men and the manic levity of Raising Arizona and Burn
After Reading. Yet another playful homage to Film Noir like The Big Lebowski,
this film not only rewards repeated viewings, but also demonstrates the Coen
Brothers’ greatest skill as filmmakers: the ability to inject the fairly
commonplace plots of genre films with levels of keen observation, perversity,
and playfulness that allow their films to become transcendent. The Coens always
collect great ensemble casts and, with regulars like Frances McDormand and Jon
Polito alongside character actors like Richard Jenkins as well as actors better
known for their TV work like James Gandolfini (The Sopranos) and Tony
Shalhoub (Wings, Monk), this film is no different. Also, it is
worth noting that this is one of Scarlett Johansson’s first significant roles,
arriving the same year as Ghost World, but a full two years before her
breakout performance in Lost in Translation. Simply put: The Man Who
Wasn’t There holds up because the writing is fantastic, it looks great, and
the actors appear to be having fun while turning in memorable performances.
Perhaps, the unexpected success of O Brother, Where Art Thou?
overshadowed this film upon its release, but time has been far kinder to this
film than its direct predecessor. Next time you find yourself craving a Coen
Brothers’ film cue this one up and you won’t be disappointed.
- John
Parsell
