Coen Country: The Films of Joel and Ethan Coen

The Hudsucker Proxy (1994)
by Ari

One of the many funny things about The Hudsucker Proxy is that brothers Joel and Ethan Coen had mainstream, commercial aspirations for this screwball, Capra-esque comedy about a blissfully ignorant dreamer named Norville (Tim Robbins) who takes charge of a massive manufacturing corporation because top executive Sidney J. Mussburger (Paul Newman) wants to see it crash and burn. The film was co-produced by Joel Silver and Sam Raimi (who also contributed to the story), and I believe was the most expensive undertaking in the Coens’ filmography at that point in their careers. Their previous film, Barton Fink, was a critical success and a hit on the festival circuit (it won the Palm d’Or and Best director at Cannes), but it under-performed at the box-office because of its personal, eccentric nature. So, with The Hudsucker Proxy, the idea was to create a hit for both Coen enthusiasts and the general public.

If you’ve seen the movie, then you understand how preposterous and hilarious that is. Not only is The Hudsucker Proxy one of their most original works, but it’s so devoid of mainstream interest that I find it remarkable it was even made in the first place. A 1950’s-inspired fairy tale about a guy who wants to sell hula-hoops (”you know, for kids”) and a fast-talking career gal (Jennifer Leigh) who unexpectedly falls in love with him on his accidental break for success? A film that brings to mind not only Frank Capra, but Billy Wilder and Ernst Lubitsch as well. This is their idea of a mainstream hit for contemporary audiences? You gotta love those crazy Coens....or at least admire the fact they convinced someone to fund something so idiosyncratic.

The heavily stylized screwball homage is, at its best, one of the funniest and entertaining movies of the ‘90s, and though it may lack the depth or thematic substance of a Miller’s Crossing or Barton Fink, it makes up for it in terms of pure comedic pleasure and escapist value. It’s a charming story with sweet characters and feel-good moments, the most lighthearted and playful movie of their careers thus far. Since much of their work is layered with dark, bleak philosophy, Hudsucker Proxy is a departure of sorts. It’s a light affair, but unlike their future disappointment Intolerable Cruelty, it actually has a pulse.

There’s an exuberant, giddy energy to the way the Coens execute the story, with breathlessly paced montages and quick, perfectly timed comedic punchlines. Robbins and Leigh have especially good chemistry, with Norville’s boyish innocence reacting uncontrollably to Amy Archer’s tough-on-the-surface attitude. And as I previously mentioned in my Miller’s Crossing piece, the Coens have a way of building classic set-pieces like few others can manage. The Hula-Hoop invention is a masterful display of comic energy and visual language, another example of the impeccable craft that goes into the construction of their movies.

Fargo (1996)
by Erik

The sixth feature film written and directed by the Coens is one of my personal favorites, and one of the best of the '90s. This violent and darkly funny kidnapping tale is not based on a true story, despite what the opening words tell us, the first of many brilliant gags the Coens are pulling here. The film was nominated for 7 Academy Awards, won two: Joel and Ethan's first Oscar, completely deserved for their original screenplay, and Frances McDormand, Joel's wife and a regular in their films (to date she's appeared in seven Coen films if you count her uncredited voice work in Barton Fink and the upcoming 2009 film Burn After Reading), won for her brilliant work as Police Chief Marge Gunderson, the film's true heart and soul. Gunderson is a strong, funny, smart and very pregnant character; the kind we rarely see in the movies these days, if at all.

As much as I do love Marge, the film would be nothing without the intensely funny Steve Buscemi—another Coen veteran. His Carl Showalter is a man that can't not talk, and the banter that ensues with his partner Gaear Grimsrud (Peter Stormare), a man who maybe utters a total of 20 words the entire film, is a lesson in character dynamics and juxtaposition. Some of my favorite lines from Carl, but there are many more:
 
-Oh, fuck it, I don't have to talk, either, man! See how you like it. Just total fuckin' silence. Two can play at that game, smart guy. We'll just see how you like it. Total silence.
 
-The heckya mean? (Mocking the William H. Macy character)
 
-Just a little of the ol' in-and-out (Carl says to the hooker in a trademark Coen reference to Kubrick)
 
-You know, it's proven that second-hand smoke is, uh, carcin-... uh, you know, cancer related.
 
-I guess you think you're... you know, like an authority figure, with that stupid fuckin' uniform, huh buddy? King clip-on-tie there, big fuckin' man, huh? You know these are the limits of your life, man. The rule of your little fuckin' gate here. Here's your four dollars, you pathetic piece of shit.
 
-How the fuck do you split a car, ya dummy? With a fuckin' chainsaw?
 
Fargo came at an interesting time in the career of the Coens. They quickly wooed critics and the art house with Blood Simple, Raising Arizona, Miller's Crossing and Barton Fink. Then Hudsucker Proxy came, a film that seemed to disappoint many and widely considered (I find it to be ok, but it's a lesser Coen effort) their first blunder. Following up with Fargo was a hell of a way to get back in the good graces of moviegoers. Hitting the ball out of the park after a strikeout is something the Coens will do again later in their career.

Fargo pissed off many Minnesotans who were insulted by their depiction in the film. Having lived in Minnesota my entire life, I was always a bit dumbfounded by this. Local media complained often (especially when it started winning awards), but I always saw our representation as part of the dark comedy. Yes, we do talk with somewhat thick accents (Oh yaaaahh, you betcha). The film goes overboard with this, but all in service to creating the feel of "Minnesota nice," and it is perfectly captured. This is a fully realized, dreary, bleak and wintery white world. To put a brutal kidnapping in the center of this world only betters the film, giving it a unique feel from all other Coen efforts, which usually take place in hotter climates.

All the pieces come together here: Top-notch direction, performances and script. My favorite technical achievements in Fargo are the great Roger Deakins' (another Coen regular) snow-pelted cinematography, this film oozes cold, something so perfectly at odds with Marge's warmth. Carter Burwell's score really is something to behold, all strings, brass and percussion that builds to a haunting sound. It's a big score, but not a BIG score, never calling attention to itself, except for the opening and closing shots ("Don't you know there's more to life than a little money").

The Minnesota-born filmmakers often speak about their predilection for keeping their films under the two-hour mark. Clocking in at a brisk running time of 98 minutes, Fargo is edited so skillfully by the Coens, under their pseudonym Roderick Jaynes, that it often feels like a longer movie. This is not to its detriment. Fargo certainly doesn't drag by any means. It doesn't leave you wanting more because Ethan and Joel, like ideal parents, surrounded themselves in the right creative community and gave birth to a near-flawless film. Every scene is absolutely necessary to the narrative and character arcs. This is an efficiently-made, brutal and beautiful film.

The Big Lebowski (1998)
by Scott

Of all of the successful films made by the Coen Brothers, perhaps none has found a broader appeal within the pop cultural zeitgeist than The Big Lebowski.  I mean, let's face it – you don't exactly see people wearing Fargo t-shirts, yet "The Dude" is all over the place.  Whether you're dealing with casual filmgoers or the pickiest of cinephiles, most people seem to show some love for Lebowski.  Perhaps this is because the film is just plain fun.

The premise works as a sort of zany, free form riff on Raymond Chandler crime fiction.  It's a genre that the Coens seem to have a fondness for (see: the Dashiel Hammett inspired Miller's Crossing) and are quite comfortable working in, while also infusing the proceedings with their trademark comic flair.  Jeff Bridges anchors the film, with his beloved performance as Jeff "The Dude" Lebowski.  The Dude is somewhat reminiscent of Elliot Gould's portrayal of Philip Marlowe in Altman's The Long Goodbye, except that he's even more laid back, and not quite as smart.  It is not difficult to assume that the film has struck a chord with viewers because of The Dude.  He seems to personify the slacker American dream: drinking, getting high, bowling, avoiding responsibility, and somehow affording to live in Los Angeles without a job.  Maybe there's a certain part of all of us that wants to be The Dude.  Or, maybe he's just fun to watch.

Many other memorable characters fill the film, such as John Goodman's batshit crazy Nam vet Walter Sobchak (perhaps my favorite) and John Turturro's brief, hilarious turn as a velvet clad bowling champion named Jesus.  There are also nihilists, ferrets, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, Steve Buscemi, a goofy dream sequence, and Ben Gazzarra as a porn producer. 

To say that the plot tends to be "random" is a bit of understatement.  But that really doesn't wind up being a problem for the film.  In fact, it might be one of its major strengths.  Though it might not have the emotional resonance of some of the Coen Brothers finest films, it gets by on its creative energy and overall entertainment value. 

Continue to O Brother, Where Art Thou?, The Man Who Wasn't There and Intolerable Cruelty