Burn after Reading (2008)
Directed by Coen Bros.
***1/4
It's not bad - not bad at all. Unfortunately, it's not great either. That's shorthand for a Coen Bros film that doesn't quite make 'masterpiece' grade (Fargo and No Country are up there; most of the rest are not).
It would be truly something for the Coens to make a complete flop. Their vision is so stark and distinctive, their knack for story hooks and weirdly human characters so keen, that a disaster from them would probably be the first sign of senility. With minds this curious & clever, you can at least expect their films to be really fascinating failures. That's what you get with Burn after Reading. Plus a bit more.
The Thickened Plot
The premise is slightly goofy. But is that a surprise coming from the gents who brought us the tale of a man who hires hit men to hold his wife for ransom? Or the one about the writer whose own story comes unraveled? Here, you get a couple of dimwits (played to the hilt by Brad Pitt & Joel's wife Frances McDormand) who discover a CD full of sensitive files at the gym where they work.
It gets even more interesting, though. The files just happen to belong to a CIA pencil pusher (a bipolar John Malkovich), whose cold-as-Alaska wife (Tilda Swinton) is having an affair. The man she's seeing is a philandering exercise junkie (a fantastic George Clooney), a guy who gets incredibly bored when his author wife goes on tour. The connections just keep stringing out. But this is a Coen Bros movie, so we know that this snake is going to turn and bite its own tail. And it's gonna hurt.
The Cardboard Humans
OK, sure, the plot is a kicker. Maybe too much of one, actually. What keeps things fascinating, though, are these slightly stereotyped characters who still feel incredibly human. It took me part of a second viewing to realize the common theme: they're all addicts. Job success, control, body image, exercise, being liked, sex, drinking...you name the obsession, you've got a poster child here to show you how pathetic the fetish is. On one level, the film's a parade of the seven deadly modern addictions.
But it never stoops to mere caricature. The Coens have a real gift for making each of their characters human (even if they have a dozen of them out there at a time). At various points in the film, we laugh at each character, hate them, feel sorry for them, are shocked by what they do, are not surprised in the slightest by what they do. Amazing, really.
No Cigar
By now, you're probably assuming that I'm ready to call the film a near masterpiece. Nope. In the end, I was left disappointed. Mainly because a plot twist comes out of nowhere early in Act 2 and derails the direction I thought (and was excited to see) the film was going in.
Those Coens, they're fearless — and there's little they won't consider when it comes to violating their audience's expectations. To be honest, they do excel at showing the consequences of sin; it's one of their most powerful themes, and it drives home here, too. So maybe we should just take this film for what it's worth and chalk that dissatisfaction up to the longing for a Savior, someone who can wade into this mess and save us from ourselves. Maybe.
A little violence and sexuality keep this from being a good choice for all. Choose wisely.
I really feel like this is the worst of the Coen films. In fact, I think the title is a joke to the people who watched and loved it. They knew it wasn't worth keeping around as a Coen classic, but that people would watch and adore because they have their name stamped on it. The joke is on the general population of America. Now, I'm not saying there weren't some enjoyable moments, but not at all up to par with other great Coen Brothers films.
Posted by: Jordan Lee Gons | 12 December 2009 at 06:55 PM