First, a note of definition: by "Coen movie," I mean a movie that is both written and directed by the Joel/Ethan team. Gambit, The Naked Man, and Crimewave all have writing credits by one or both of the brothers but were not directed by either of them, so I've excluded these films. I also only considered feature-length movies, so don't look for any short films on this list.
I have a lot to say about some of these movies and a little less to say about others (weirdly enough, the ones I like the best I have the least to write about). If I snub a film or say too little about a favorite of yours, don't hesitate to add to the discussion in the comments. I've said elsewhere that I think lists are great for stirring up conversation, so now that the ideas have been stirred, let's get to conversating!
Alright. Without further ado, the list.
Edit (3/5/2014): I've update this list to now include Inside Llewyn Davis, with a description taken verbatim from my Favorite Movies of 2013 post. I'll probably do the same thing for future Coen films. Note to self: don't do career-spanning retrospectives of people before the careers of the aforementioned people are over.
Edit (11/12/2017): I've decided not to update this list until the Coens either die or retire. Then I'll revisit when I can have the full spectrum of their career to examine.
16. Intolerable Cruelty
Three movies share the reputation for being the "worst" Coen brothers movie: Intolerable Cruelty, The Hudsucker Proxy, and The Ladykillers. But really, calling these movies the "worst" is more a statement on the greatness of the rest of the Coens' movies than an indictment of these three, because they're actually pretty good, albeit flawed (and I happen to think one of them is borderline-great, but we'll get to that in a minute). As is obvious from its placement on this list, though, I think Intolerable Cruelty is the most flawed, though that doesn't mean it's bad. Catherine Zeta-Jones gives a bland performance as an already bland femme fatale character, and the dialogue is a little limp (probably because Joel and Ethan revised an existing script rather than creating something entirely of their own). Also, as is the case with many Coen comedies, the ending gets a little too loud and zany. But dwelling on these flaws does Intolerable Cruelty a disservice. By and large, it's an entertaining, joyously dark satire of modern marriage with lively non-Zeta-Jones performances. It may never reach the heights of some of the other movies on this list, but separated from the prestige factor of its writer-directors, it's a pretty fun way to spend 100 minutes.
15. The Hudsucker Proxy
The Hudsucker Proxy is two-thirds of a much better movie. Lest I sound too hard on the film a few sentences from now, let me point out just a few of the many wonderful things about it. The camerawork, for one: it's clever and energetic in a way that cinematography in Coen brothers movies usually isn't (the hula hoop montage gets a lot of well-earned acclaim, but almost every scene sings with playful, punny camera movement). Then there's the farcical depiction of upper-level corporate dealings, which walks just the right line between dark and silly. And the film's screwball dialogue is one of the Coens' most accomplished executions of their love for paying tribute to old-Hollywood styles; Jennifer Jason Leigh is is the MVP here, delivering that dialogue with a spot-on pastiche of '40s-era movie wisecracking. Yet the elephant sitting atop the slight but otherwise pristine Hudsucker is its ending, which introduces an out-of-nowhere fantasy element that threatens to topple the whole enterprise. If you've seen it, you know what I'm talking about. It's a contrived twist that's only interesting for how it foreshadows the use of semi-mythical, omniscient characters in future Coen films like The Big Lebowski and O Brother, Where Art Thou? But, as with Intolerable Cruelty, you'd be missing out on the film's numerous pleasures by getting too caught up in the flaws.
14. Blood Simple
Blood Simple is the first movie the Coen boys wrote and directed together, and it's astounding how accomplished a debut it is. That this one ranks so low is probably my fault. Blood Simple is one of the last Coen movies I saw, and consequently it feels a lot more by-the-numbers to me than it would have to its original audience in 1984. So I really shouldn't fault the film for that. It's a tense thriller with engaging character work and just a hint of black comedy, and on those terms, it's a smashing success. But after seeing the later Coen thrillers, Blood Simple's morality tale of revenge and greed can't help but feel like a test run for the more ambitious likes of No Country For Old Men, Miller's Crossing, and Fargo. Still, if retroactive familiarity is a movie's only flaw, you've still got yourself one doozy of a movie.
13. The Ladykillers
One of the chief pleasures of most Coen brothers films is the aural spectacle of highly talented actors chewing up eloquent dialogue with hammy regional accents. We do a lot of intellectualizing when it comes to output of Joel and Ethan, but there's not really nothing too intellectual about the doancha-noing of Frances McDormand in Fargo or O Brother, Where Art Thou?'s sumbitching Charles Durning; it's just plain fun, and it turns the Coens' already acrobatic dialogue into something carnival-esque and, at its most giddy, reminiscent of Dr. Seuss. I write all this to point out that The Ladykillers is, alongside True Grit and the two aforementioned films, one of the brothers' best uses of this unique pleasure. There's just something mesmerizing about seeing Tom Hanks spin his dialogue in that Southern gentleman's accent, for instance, or any of the other actors at work within their various nooks of the Southern dialect. That isn't to say that the dialect is the only thing to recommend about The Ladykillers. It's a clever little heist comedy with a wicked sense of justice and a rich treatment of setting (which the T-Bone Burnett-produced gospel soundtrack accentuates gorgeously). As I've said, this movie has a reputation for being the Coen brothers' worst, a failed attempt to remake an older, already well-regarded film of the same name, and since I haven't seen the original, I have no way of knowing how much of the good in this movie comes from the original. To be sure, there are some missteps (the less said about J.K. Simmons's IBS, the better), but on the whole, I find it to be an engaging, albeit minor, entry in the Coen filmography. It's also notable for lacking the shrill, madcap finales that plague the endings of most other Coen comedies, which earns it a few more brownie points in my book.
12. Burn After Reading
Here's a fun one. There's a ton to enjoy about Burn After Reading, the Coens' most successful execution of pure satire, but what's most remarkable to me is how much the potency of that satire has strengthened in just this year alone. In light of all the NSA goings-on in 2013, it's tempting to view Frances McDormand's character as an anachronistic spoof of Edward Snowden and the omniscient-yet-lazy government surveillance bumpkins as NSA stand-ins. Since the movie came out mid-2008, it's pretty clear the Coens meant Burn After Reading to be a Bush-Era commentary (and it works wonderfully as such), but if the shoe fits...
11. Fargo
First impressions, man. They'll get you. The friend who first recommended Fargo to me told me it was a comedy, so I went into this decidedly dark, only-funny-if-you-squint movie looking for punchlines and slapstick in the vein of Raising Arizona or something. And to be fair, there's quite a bit of slapstick, even in the grizzled, leg-in-the-wood-chipper finale. But (if the whole "leg-in-the-wood-chipper" phrasing didn't already clue you in) all of it is buried under a very grim, very frosty (both literally and emotionally) morality tale chock full of ruminations on mortality, greed, and general human fallibility. Needless to say, Fargo caught me completely off-guard when I first saw it. In subsequent viewings, I've come to recognize the brilliant touches that endear it to so many film buffs—and don't get me wrong, it is brilliant—but I've never been able to shake off entirely my initial instinct to call it the sickest comedy I've ever seen.
10. The Big Lebowski
Let me get this out of the way up front: I think The Big Lebowski is a tremendously uneven film. More so than any other movie on this list. Subplots overstay their welcome by several scenes (the porn ring, anyone?), and the whole enterprise feels about as shaggy and lopsided as The Dude himself. But as with most movies that have accrued as much cult fandom as this one has, the worth is the details, not the overall production. And those details... well, they really tie the room together, so to speak. The bowling league. The nihilists. The carpet. And those quotes—the scores of jokes, non sequiturs, and one-liners to enter the popular lexicon. Given the strength of almost every Coen screenplay, it's no small feat that The Big Lebowski is the most quotable film on this list. Fun comments thread: what's your favorite Big Lebowski line? My pick: the Dude's immortal response to Jesus's bowling threats (and my go-to comeback to any criticism this list might generate)—"Yeah, well, ya know, that's just like your opinion, man."
9. Raising Arizona
What I think sometimes gets lost in the whole "Nicholas Cage sure is a wacko" internet obsession is the fact that he's actually a pretty funny guy (maybe even funny enough to be cognizant of how ridiculous his own acting choices seem), and Raising Arizona is a great showcase for him. Of course, he's not the only thing carrying this movie. Holly Hunter gives a hilarious performance herself and, more importantly, imbues her role with a kind of naked pathos not normally found in the often-austere world of the Coen films. Mix that with a few classic John Goodman-infused escapades and some of the most kinetic scenes in Joel and Ethan's career, and you've got yourself a pretty great movie.
8. Inside Llewyn Davis
One thing Joel and Ethan Coen don't get all that much attention for is their use of physical humor (especially in their existential works, a category in which this film totally fits), but one of the many pleasures of Inside Llewyn Davis is that it's a great showcase of their talent for wringing comedy out of subtle physical interactions. The scenes with the cat, of course, are wonderfully choreographed bits reminiscent of old Disney shorts, but even beyond that, John Goodman, "Please, Mr. Kennedy," and so on provide great gags. What's even greater, though, is the emotional sincerity that comedy services. People rag on the Coens for being detached, but this film, along with their previous feature, True Grit, seems to indicate a new period of emotional forthrightness for these guys. I'm cool with that.
7. A Serious Man
In terms of tone and execution, A Serious Man is of a piece with Coens' earlier work on Barton Fink. Both films are heavy on the existential dread, the tragicomic absurdity of life, and out-of-left-field forays into free-associative symbolism. Both end abruptly on moments that are at once beautiful and profoundly discomforting. Both feature male protagonists unable to motivate themselves to take action. A Serious Man frees itself from being Barton Fink 2 in two ways: 1) Whereas Barton Fink was all about the trials of the writing process, A Serious Man is concerned with the Coens' own Jewish heritage. Replete with references from the Old Testament and Hebrew tradition, it's a poignant examination of the Chosen People's history. 2) A Serious Man has some killer musical cues. This side of the Summer of Love, Jefferson Airplane never sounded so profound.
6. Miller's Crossing
What's remarkable about Miller's Crossing is that there's really nothing remarkable about it. Don't take that to mean that I don't think it's a good movie; it is a very good movie (just look at where it is on this list!). But at far as Coen films go, it doesn't really have too many quirks to distinguish it from other notable entries in the brothers' catalogue. Miller's Crossing feels like the kind of movie these guys can make in their sleep. Early-twentieth-century period setting? Check. Crime thriller plotting? Yup. Hints of black comedy? For sure. Razor-sharp focus on the psychological/existential ramifications of the plot on an insecure individual? Definitely. Realist cinematography with art-house flourishes? It's all here. Really, Miller's Crossing ranks so high on this list by the sheer brute force of its craftmanship. It's just so ridiculously well-made. No gimmicks—just a pair of auteurs working within a formula and doing everything absolutely right.
5. The Man Who Wasn't There
The term "film noir" gets thrown at just about every Coen movie that isn't a comedy (and even a few that are). But, to paraphrase Charles Shulz, of all the film noirs in the Coen world, The Man Who Wasn't There is the film noiriest. It's at least the one that most nakedly pays tribute to the form. From the black-and-white cinematography to the world-weary voiceovers, the movie has a clear precedent in films like The Maltese Falcon, and it doesn't take too much of an imagination to envision the plot as taking place in some alternate universe where Sam Spade has decided to take up hair styling instead of sleuthing. The Coens take the isolation and nihilism inherent in the genre and turn them up to 11, making it their second-best exploration of a character's psyche (stay tuned for #1).
4. True Grit
In some circles, the Coen brothers' films catch a lot of flak for being emotionally sterile and lacking empathy for their characters. I won't argue that, say, Fargo or The Ladykillers is a shining example of compassionate filmmaking, but True Grit is definitive proof that Joel and Ethan are indeed capable of emotional investment. This may be an odd thing to prove in a movie so grounded in amiable caricature (exhibit A: Matt Damon as LeBoeuf) and hang-'em-high vengeance. Two things sell the sentimentalism, though: the unironic use of piano hymns to score the film, and Hailee Steinfeld's stunning turn as Mattie Ross. The movie uses the inherent innocence of church music and childhood to tackle with vulnerability the emotional toll of revenge, something other Coen movies only give sidelong glances to. Mattie's snake bite and her subsequent flight home at the movie's end may be the most sincere moment in the Coen filmography, and boy, is it moving.
(P.S. For those who are curious, I think this adaptation tops the original film, though I prefer the meta-performance of John Wayne's self-parody/-tribute over Jeff Bridges's more ragged take on Rooster.)
3. No Country for Old Men
Okay, from this point on, it's pretty much a toss-up. I thought about ending the list in a three-way tie, but then decided that violated the premise of list-making, so here we go. The ordering of these top three slots represents my feelings about these three movies at the moment—ask me tomorrow, and I may rank them completely differently (or at least as differently as three different movies can be arranged—a whopping three distinct combinations, if my half semester of high school stats serves me well).
A lot of ink has been spilled over No Country For Old Men, so I'm not going to even try to say something insightful; Roger Ebert once called it a perfect film, and if that's an overstatement (what exactly does "perfect" mean, anyway?), I won't be quick to correct it. It is by far the most accomplished of the Coens' many crime thrillers, a chilling and utterly profound examination of the nature of evil and justice with impeccable casting and edge-of-your-seat pacing. I'll stop with the pull-quote fodder for now and move on to movie #2, but first: how did it take so long for the Coens to adapt a Cormac McCarthy novel? Seriously, y'all, great match.
2. O Brother, Where Art Thou?
You can divide the Coen brothers' movies into three broad categories, many of which I've already alluded to in this post. There are the crime thrillers: Miller's Crossing, No Country For Old Men, The Man Who Wasn't There, Blood Simple, Fargo; the existential comedies: Barton Fink, A Serious Man, The Hudsucker Proxy, The Big Lebowski, The Man Who Wasn't There (again); and the slapstick comedies: Intolerable Cruelty, Burn After Reading, Raising Arizona. The Ladykillers and True Grit are kind of hard to classify because of their being remakes and not autonomous works, but the real outlier here is O Brother, Where Art Thou?, the loose adaptation of Homer's Odyssey. On the one hand, it shares some of the rambunctious DNA of the slapstick comedies, but it's so exuberant, sincere, intricate, allusive, and insightful that it's hard to lump it in with something like Burn After Reading. For sure, it's a very silly movie at times. Even at its silliest, though, it's a rich experience, both aesthetically and thematically, flourished by T-Bone Burnett's gorgeous soundtrack. That makes the movie sound academic (kind of like one would expect an adaptation of a Greek epic to be); it's not, though. It's just deeply human unlike anything else Joel and Ethan have done—which, darn it all, also makes it sound academic. It's awesome, though. I promise.
1. Barton Fink
It's been a long list, so I'll get to the point: Barton Fink is a masterpiece. You'll laugh; you'll cry; you'll be thankful John Goodman doesn't show up to take care of your own bouts with writer's block. Maybe it's because I'm a writer who enjoys the depiction of the creative process. Maybe it's because I'm a writer who feels about as pathetic as Barton ninety-eight percent of the time. Maybe it's this scene from The Simpsons. Whatever the case, I find Barton Fink incredibly funny, personal, and discomforting in the best way possible. Seriously, if you haven't already, go see it.
Actually, scratch that; go see all the Coen brothers' movies. Thanks for reading, folks!
Until next time.
