Narrative Review Burn After Reading Directed by: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen Cast: George Clooney, Frances McDormand, Brad Pitt, John Malkovich, Tilda Swinton Time: 1 hr 35 mins Rating: R
Earlier this year the Coen Brothers brought home some notable hardware for their peculiarly blunt No Country for Old Men. By bringing the same fresh sense of perspective, and uncanny attention to cinematic detail, the siblings adequately rivaled anything they had completed before by taking another step forward. In an effort to, perhaps quiet the storm of Oscar, they’ve brought us a film that reminds us how dark their version of comedy can be.
The only trouble was, they may have had too much to work with. In the end, it’s more of a mess than a masterpiece.
When you employ a cast of legendary Hollywood ringers, it’s less what they have to work with but more what they can do with it. With all the subtle brilliance of Fargo, the tempered wit of The Big Lebowski, and awkward delivery of O Brother, Where Art Thou? in the bag, there was an ample amount of excitement surrounding their latest effort, Burn After Reading.
Though it’s difficult to adequately assert how poignant and moronic this film was throughout, it’s safe to say the strain required to keep up with the languidly laid out plot rivaled that of withstanding a recent Woody Allen monologue. It’s not that it mattered in the early going. The brilliance of the brothers Coen is their collective ability to present a story of acquired taste. It normally takes a while to grasp the context through which the movie’s characters experience the world that surrounds them versus the world they’ve created in their heads.
Where the movie falls flat is in the scripts’ reluctance to expertly utilize the talent in the line up. This was an uncanny shortcoming considering the two managers. This wasn’t the case across the board. Brad Pitt is spellbinding as a Hard Bodies Gym employee who’s IQ is closer to his age than the number of songs his character has on his iPod. It’s rare you get to see a star of his stature dim the shades as much as he’s allowed to throughout. When John Malkovich is onscreen (which isn’t as often as you are sure to have hoped), his lumpish mug, and stuttering baritone makes you care about a character so unlikable it’s a wonder you grow to feel for him.
The rest of the cast is great in spurts, but for the most part, struggle to keep up. The relationship between George Clooney's impish goof, and Frances McDormand's self-conscious faux-mastermind leaves us wondering why it's something we're supposed to care about. Though the two showcase a delectable assortment of quirky dialogue, it's almost as if they are trying too hard to keep a story with too many holes in it from sinking.
It is perhaps the film's final scene that sums it up best. In a quaint exchange between two top C.I.A. agents trying to best summarize the events that just transpired, David Rasche and J.K. Simmons are at their character-actor best (respectively) in their collective assessment that they have learned nothing in the process. You will definitely be able to relate while leaving a theater filled with fellow moviegoers whose questions will outweigh any answers this film could provide.
Final Score: 5/10