Burn After Reading (2008)

Following their Oscar Scoop in '98, Joel and Ethan Coen surprised many with this dark, if somewhat slighter outing. Burn After Reading marks their thirteenth outing - a bad omen? Depends who you ask.

It also marks the return of George Clooney to the Coen fold for the third time (Oh Brother, Where Art Thou? and Intolerable Cruelty coming before). Ever-dependable Frances McDormand is here, too, also joined by Brad Pitt, Tilda Swinton and John Malkovitch. Richard Jenkins gets an honorable mention here; his name was omitted from the movie poster and DVD packaging, but is as essential to the story as everyone else.

Burn After Reading is an ensemble piece and all principals get roughly equal screen time, each delivering great performances, but it's probably Pitt's performance that lingers longest - a goofy turn as a dim-witted, over-energised gym instructor.

The Plot

The backbone of the story concerns a stolen disc which may or may not contain sensitive CIA intelligence - carelessly left in a gym locker, it falls into the hands of Pitt and McDormand, who decide to trace the owner, then blackmail them for it, more out of excitement than real malice. McDormand's character is obsessed with the idea of cosmetic surgery, and with every other financial avenue a dead-end, the disc appears like a gift from the gods.

Plot isn't the primary interest here, though. What's on offer here is a combination of spy movie pastiche, combined with an examination of middle-aged mores: even though (initially) disconnected, all the characters share a frustration with where their lives have gone, and strive to find better.

 Tilda Swinton plays a very convincing harridan.

Malkovitch seethes frustrated, impotent anger from every pore, every other word an expletive as he rages against the little men of the world; marginalised by his superiors, he quits his relatively senior position in the CIA ('third-level clearance'), telling his incredulous wife (Tilda Swinton) that he plans to write his memoirs instead. This gets as far as him hubristically narrating nonsense into a Dictaphone. Ultimately, these anecdotes end up as text, saved to the disc that will fall into the wrong hands.

So wrapped up in his world, he fails to notice Swinton's boredom, never suspecting her affair with Clooney, a boyish, sex-addicted buffoon who allows Swanson to think he's planning a new life with her. Only, he's not really likely to leave his wife, a successful author on an endless series of book launches - it just gives him plenty of time to chase skirt.

Various contrivances allow these disparate characters to bump into one another, sometimes romantically; occasionally, with violence. McDormand's ill-conceived plan to ransom off the disc creates a vortex, pulling in the rest of the cast.

 Malk turns the AngerFrenzy up to ten. Again. Which is a good thing.

 

Coen Themes

Expectations were high when Burn After Reading arrived at theatres. Perhaps No Country For Old Men had raised the bar a little too high; compared to that movie, Burn After Reading appears to be a breezier affair. Where the Coen's previous thrillers subverted genres (The Big Lebowski turned Chandleresque hardboiled fiction on it's head; The Man Who Wasn't There celebrated the works of James M. Cain), Burn After Reading tips a nod to espionage cinema.

Carter Burwell's excellent score evokes all the tension of a heavyweight thriller, puncuating exterior scenes shot through a voyeuristic lens as if this were a Cold War drama. The fun here is the banality of it all - there is no spy element, only the fumblings of idiocy. As with many other Coen films, this is an examination of the stupidity of people, of best-laid plans spectacularly failing.

And then there's the violence. When it happens, it happens suddenly, shockingly; scenes that start out as almost slapstick quickly turn into ugly, brutal aggression.

Summing Up

A DVD release of a movie like Burn After Reading allows us some distance from the expectations prior to a theatrical release. This certainly isn't the disaster some reviewers would have us think - OK, so it isn't as funny as Lebowski, nor as meticulous as The Man Who Wasn't There. It lacks the wonderful cinematography of Roger Deakins, who had become something of a fixture to previous Coen projects.

But Burn After Reading isn't trying that hard. It's a suburban tale, the focus turned onto the players rather than the setting. It's certainly less challenging than previous efforts - but that's no bad thing. It isn't a 'light' movie, though - the final scenes are pitch black and as cynical as anything else the brothers have offered up before.

Revisiting 'Blood Simple'

Blood Simple (1984) Dir: Joel Coen

The first Coen Bros. movie and - in some quarters - still held as their finest picture.  I watched it again this weekend, for the first time in many years. With the benefit of retrospect, it's easy to see what would become Coen preoccupations: low angles, noir-ish mood, characters who act rather than talk - but act stupid, then pay the price for their stupidity.

In many ways, this is the Coen's closest homage to the stories of James M. Cain. True, their later The Man Who Wasn't There is undoubtedly more authentic to the traditions of both hardboiled literature and Film Noir.  But in terms of story, Blood Simple examines similar themes of morality as found in Cain's The Postman Always Rings Twice or Double Indemnity - doomed lovers who make dubious decisions, inevitably questioning their motives toward each other.

Frances McDormand

Frances McDormand shines in a very early role but the real star of the show is M. Emmet Walsh, playing a seedy private eye. Walsh is always good value* but he's probably never been better than he is here, playing an odious, duplicitous man who gets under your skin seconds into his initial scene.

 M. Emmet Walsh

Less compelling is John Gets as Ray - he's saddled with a frustrating inability to articulate what's on his mind, although that's a blame more for the script than for Gets' performance.  The inarticulation of characters (and the price they pay for it) forms an important aspect to hardboiled fiction; perhaps it translates better on page than it does to screen.

Still, it's a taught, compelling thriller, with plenty to admire, not least the pitch-black humour the Coens would go on to be celebrated for.

  That's a hand pinned to the window frame - and those are bulletholes poking through from the next room. You'll have to see the movie to find out what that's all about if you don't know. 

* Movie Lore: Critic Roger Ebert coined a movie edict called 'The Stanton-Walsh Rule', which decrees that any movie starring Walsh or fellow character actor Harry Dean Stanton must have merit.

The Glass Key (1942): Classic Movie Review

Examining the Enduring Appeal of a Film Noir Classic

 

Stuart Heisler's adaptation of Dashiell Hammett's novel still influences Hollywood, with a tale of dubious alliances and loyalty.

In The Glass Key, Alan Ladd plays Ed Beaumont, right-hand man to Paul Madvig (Brian Donlevy), a boorish, ambitious player with political aspirations.

When the murder of a reckless playboy casts suspicion on his boss, Ed works to protect Madvig. Matters are further complicated when Madvig falls for the daughter of a wealthy industrialist (Veronica Lake) - especially when Ed falls under the spell of the same girl.

It's a labyrinthine plot, typical of the genre. Given the right running time (the film plays out in under 90 minutes), the script distills Hammett's usual complexities adequately - but it's still hard to follow.
Although, fans of the hardboiled crime tradition will know, that's part of the fun.

Faithful to Hammett's Hardboiled Style

Hammett popularised the kind of story-telling that threw the reader into morally murky waters. In The Glass Key, there aren't any good guys as such - just the corrupt, or the even more corrupt.

This isn't a weighty theme, however - the movie skips along with snappy dialogue and flashy smiles. But unlike other Noir-ish movies - Casablanca, for example (released in the same year), there are no noble heroes; characters are motivated by self-serving agendas, acting to protect their own interests.

The Glass Key is celebrated as one of the earliest pairings between Ladd and Lake, who went on to make a total of seven movies together. Although Lake shares top billing here, she's actually in only a handful of scenes, but when the pair first meet in this, the scene crackles with energy.

Veronica Lake glides gracefully through her brief scenes, her distinctive voice punctuating the dialogue with effortless style. Ladd is perfectly cast, his face seeming to barely mask a sardonic smile.

Brian Donlevy is superb as the oafish yet successful Madvig. Another standout performance comes from Ladd's counterpart: a thug called Jeff, played by William Bendix.

A Standout Action Scene

In perhaps the most startling and memorable scene, Ed is held captive by Jeff and repeatedly beaten. The ferocity and intensity on display is shocking for a film almost seven decades old. Bendix relishes the role, giving a creepy, homo-erotic spin to his psychopathic punishments, wooing Ed with pet names; continually, he refers to his quarry as 'sweetheart' and 'baby'.

Ed's flight from danger is an audacious, physically punishing scene that has him fall three storeys, through a glass roof and onto a dinner table. Unlike action heroes of today, he spends the next few days in hospital and never completely recovers.

Summing Up

Held alongside other movies of the genre, The Glass Key is a slighter example of Film Noir. In terms of plot, however, it was hugely influential: Akira Kurosawa acknowledged it as the chief inspiration for Yojimbo (1961), a film that in turn influenced many subsequent Hollywood movies, most notably A Fistful of Dollars (1964).

These examples are eclipsed by the Coen brothers' Miller's Crossing (1990), which effectively rewrites The Glass Key for a modern audience.

An undisputed classic of the era, The Glass Key is essential viewing for any self-respecting fan of the genre.

No Country for Old Men

“Whatcha got ain’t nothin new. This country’s hard on people, you can’t stop what’s coming, it ain’t all waiting on you. That’s vanity.”

No Country for Old Men (2007) Dir: Joel & Ethan Coen

I watched this movie again, twice (it had been a while). It really isn’t the box of tricks I’d remembered it being, not once I knew what was coming.

Moss isn’t the lead, he just occupies most of the screen time. Bell is the lead, only he spends most of the movie ducking out of harms way. Bell’s opening monologue sets it all up; Moss chooses to do what Bell won’t, which is to take a step into evil (‘A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He’d have to say, “O.K., I’ll be part of this world”’).

So many people seem to think the terrifying Chigurh character is supposed to be supernatural, but surely the rather calamitous (and completely random) accident toward the end prove his fallible, flesh-and-blood credentials?  His last potential victim refuses to play his coin-toss game, forcing him to decide their fate; once stripped of his harbinger role, he seems to be a victim of chance as much as anyone else.

Roger Deakins is again in charge of the lens (as with most Coen films) - his foreign eye (he’s a Brit) seems to capture America in a unique way, evoking movies like the old John Ford westerns, but adding something else to the mix.

Did I say I liked it?