An American Crime Family

ROAD TO PERDITION (2002)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Originally reviewed in 2002

Like Tom Cruise, Tom Hanks has great sincerity. Here is an actor who always brings authority and truth to his roles - a man who you believe you can trust. Witness his range of work from "Philadelphia" to "Saving Private Ryan." Therefore, as he once said on an interview with Charlie Rose, the last thing he would play is a serial killer. I can't see that ever happening, but a hit man? Now that is an unusual change-of-pace, but don't be fooled. Hanks is still authoritative and full of truth but he does manage to convincingly play "a bad man" who kills people.

Based on a graphic novel by Max Allan Collins, "The Road to Perdition" is set in 1931 in Chicago, the time of Al Capone and Prohibition. Hanks is Michael Sullivan, the main enforcer for the grumpy mob boss, John Rooney (Paul Newman, in another change-of-pace role). Rooney has been helpful and generous to Michael and his family for so long that Rooney considers him family, much to the chagrin of his own flesh and blood, Connor (Daniel Craig). Michael's eldest son, Michael Jr. (Tyler Hoechlin), is curious about his father's business and frequent outings at night. One night, junior becomes witness to a murder, causing problems for Michael Sr. and his family, which consists of his wife (Jennifer Jason Leigh) and a younger son. Suddenly, a series of misunderstandings and double-crosses occur, not to mention murder, and now Michael and his presumptuous son are on the loose, eluding the death throes of Rooney's other hit men on his payroll. One clever hit man doubles as a crime photographer. He is Maguire (Jude Law), who is always hunched over and dresses like a mean Charles Chaplin - his orders are to kill Michael, not the son.

Essentially, "The Road to Perdition" deals with father-son relationships in the mob, a theme that has not emerged in the genre of mob crime pictures before. It is also a continuing theme of dysfunctional families trying to come terms with their own faults as evidenced by director Sam Mendes's spectacular debut film, "American Beauty." This time, Mendes tries to fuse those elements in a crime picture and the results are often dazzling, if also lacking some depth. This is permissible since we are dealing with interactive behavior between Michael and his son and his strained relationship with his surrogate father, Rooney. If only there had been as much emphasis between Rooney and his real son, Connor - a character who is disappointingly cartoonish (he has one good line - "this is all so f***ing hysterical.")

"The Road to Perdition" has lots to recommend for all film fans and also for those who loved Mendes as a real actor's director with "American Beauty." He does not disappoint with most of the assured cast. Hanks brings measured simplicity and restrained emotion to the ambiguous Michael, an antihero who is simply a dad (or as Michael's son recalls in reliable voice-over narration, "he was just my father.") Hanks is not playing a stereotypical Joe Pesci gangster from a Martin Scorsese movie. Instead he opts for some humanistic touches added to a man who is only doing his job.

Paul Newman is also quietly effective and menacing as the older, wiser Rooney who still loves Michael as if he was his own son, even if he wants him dead. Jude Law also exudes the kind of charisma with his piercing eyes and rat-like body language that can only come from a major movie star, and he is the real star of the show. Every scene he is in, he steals it from reliable heavyweights like Hanks and Newman. Law's final scene is a shocker. Unfortunately, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Daniel Craig merely have throwaway roles and do not make any lasting impressions.

"The Road to Perdition" is not quite a gangster picture (though there is plenty of gunfire) and not quite a noir piece (though there are endless shots of rainy nights). It is a family drama, though it does not have the scope and weight of something like "The Godfather." I consider it a lark for Sam Mendes, who may go on to greater things. This is first-class entertainment with prize-winning performances by Hanks and Newman. Their piano duet scene is exemplary, and the difference between attention to character detail versus attention to bullet-size holes. I'll take the former.

This Movie is buried up Schitt's Creek (and not in a good way)

THE MAN (2005)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 2006

I hate starting reviews for potentially winning comedies the same way, so I will make a slight alteration. Samuel L. Jackson as an ATF agent with earrings is chasing some bad guys in Detroit. Fair enough, sounds like a sequel to "Shaft." Eugene Levy is a dental supply salesman who is mistaken for a special ATF agent, hence Jackson's character. Sounds like comedy gold and in the vein of "Midnight Run." Unfortunately, the veins burst and create an arterial spray that results in a bloody, largely unfunny mess.

I'll be somewhat fair - I did laugh for the first twenty minutes of "The Man." Eugene Levy is the perfect foil to the towering presence of the raging Samuel L. Jackson. But something is slightly off with Jackson - as watchable as he is, he seems disengaged and slightly robotic. Take the scene where Jackson is driving and chasing a criminal on foot - Jackson doesn't exude the magnetic anger that typifies Jackson at his best. Plainly, he doesn't go over the top and you know, when Jackson goes over-the-top, he can be downright scary. Still, he has some bravura reaction shots to Levy's own inanities and personal matters.

Quickly, after those promising twenty minutes, "The Man" just becomes a stale, moronic comedy with fewer and fewer laughs, to the point that flatulence becomes yet another faux laugh-getter (When will filmmakers realize that flatulence is not automatically funny?) The villains are also on automatic pilot, as is the wasted Miguel Ferrer as the internal affairs cop (will Ferrer ever get the opportunity to play anything besides a one-dimensional, cartoonish villain?) As another in the long line of tired buddy-buddy action comedies, "The Man" is fitfully mediocre and fails to live up to what Jackson and Levy, with the right director and screenplay, can really do (though Levy does crack me up anyway). Here, they are robotic, stock characters uttering the same old phrases in the same old way. Call it "The Generic Man."

Flirting with Something Wild road-movie connotations

THE OPPOSITE OF SEX (1998)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 1999

I described Christina Ricci's face as cherub-like in "Buffalo '66," and nothing can be further from the truth than in "The Opposite of Sex," a delectable comedy-drama where she plays a tramp with a heart of lust. Ricci has a beautiful, fascinating face that speaks volumes of lustlike, uninhibited qualities - she would have been ideal as Lolita.

Ricci plays Deedee, a sixteen-year-old tramp who just moved in with her half-brother Bill (Martin Donovan), a gay teacher in Indiana. He lives with the spinster-like Lucia (Lisa Kudrow), sister of Bill's former lover who died of AIDS, who takes an immediate dislike to Deedee. Bill's new boyfriend is the muscular, dim-witted, bare-chested Matt (Ivan Sergei). Deedee sees a new catch for her net and proceeds to seduce and bed Matt, who is almost too willing. This results in Deedee getting pregnant, taking most of Bill's savings, and running off with Matt to L.A. Bill and Lucia proceed to find them, and it all involves endless plot complications and twists.

"The Opposite of Sex" begins as a satire and winds itself topsy-turvy as a road movie about the importance of family and relationships. I didn't mind the winding, but the satire is the best and most clever part of the film. There's something playful about writer-director Don Roos's sly take on family life, the media, and how a gay man perceives the madness in (a) Deedee conquering his male lover, (b) putting up with the aggravating Lucia, and (c) accusations of sexual crimes at his school by a former student, Jason (Johnny Galecki), Matt's other lover.

The satirical elements are not maintained, however, when the road movie takes over the second-half of the picture resulting in a "Something Wild" ride through twists and surprises. There's also the introduction of a bland sheriff (played by none other than Lyle Lovett) who holds a torch for Lucia, and a Louisiana redneck kid - they both bring the film to a halt whenever they appear. And the conclusive Canadian border sequences hardly mirror the originality of the first half of the movie.

"The Opposite of Sex" is told from the point-of-view of Deedee and we hear her self-aware narration as she comments on the facts of the story. My favorite quips were regarding plot devices: "A gun. This is foreshadowing. Duh." Even funnier are her comments on gays: "Only gays love houses like this," or when she refers to Billy and his friends as "losers." She constantly reminds us we are watching a movie and foretells all the clichés that take place, though the movie never really transcends them.

There are quite a few problems with "The Opposite of Sex" in terms of its theme and exploration of sex and relationships. For one, Deedee is an unredeeming brat and tramp rolled into one, who even holds Bill's dead lover's ashes in a ziploc bag as collateral - there is no way she would ever have a heart of gold. The movie tries to say that sex (and sexual orientation) is all that matters in a relationship, and there is no existing foundation for love. Then it switches gears, particularly Deedee's motives, and says that family is all that matters. The happy ending not only reverses its theme but succumbs to a development in Deedee's character that is hardly believable.

As good as Ricci is, Deedee is still portrayed as a vixen with no inner life. We learn precious little about her or her past except that she destroys other people's lives. Others fare better in sharply written roles such as Martin Donovan playing the blank-faced Bill. He plays his role perfectly and is used to better effect here than in any of the recent Hal Hartley films. Lisa Kudrow is the major surprise: her facetious one-liners and double takes are intoxicating and proves there is life beyond her Phoebe character in "Friends."

There are enough wildly comedic parts and choice dialogue bits to qualify "The Opposite of Sex" as mild entertainment. I kept thinking of a similar road movie/satire called "Flirting with Disaster," which stayed true to its themes with no cop-outs or false endings. "The Opposite of Sex" flirts with coming close to that movie's greatness, but never adheres to its own convictions.

Reality Check for Lindsay Lohan

JUST MY LUCK (2006)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Maybe Lindsay Lohan needs a reality check when choosing projects. With the exception of "A Prairie Home Companion," Lohan has not made any real decent films. "Mean Girls" was occasionally diverting whereas "Freaky Friday" was a mediocre Disney remake, and "Herbie: Fully Loaded" was merely a bore. Things may change but one thing I can say, she is a major movie star and one hell of a good actress. With "Just My Luck," her charismatic star pulse outlasts the material. I mean, let's be honest, not even Julia Roberts ever did a haphazard romantic comedy like this one.

That is if you can call "Just My Luck" romantic or even comedic. The movie has this fantasy notion that some people are so lucky, they don't even have to open an umbrella when it is raining because the sun will magically shine when it is required to do so. Lohan plays the luckiest gal on earth, Ashley, who works for some anonymous marketing firm. She holds meetings for her boss who can be late when the elevator is stuck (talk about bad luck!) She can hold soirees and masquerade balls with boundless enthusiasm and the greatest of ease. She always wins when she scratches lottery tickets (that is almost too hard to swallow). Everything works out for this girl. That is until Ashley kisses a guy named Jake (Chris Pine) and, voila, her luck is gone. There are endless pratfalls, her dresses come apart at the seams, and she ends up in jail (Summoning Paris Hilton). Oh, yes, she throws a hairdryer in a bathtub and puts too much detergent in a washer! Unlucky or unwieldy?

The first fifteen minutes are devoted to Jake's unluckiness and then his sudden lucky streak thanks to kissing Ashley. Then we endure more than an hour of interminable nonsense about Ashley's unlucky streak. Chris Pine is merely bland as Jake, the love interest, though Lohan does make the screen lively when she appears. However, she can make the screen sparkle at any time (even in those funny faux commercials for "Saturday Night Live" she did a while back) but she also needs a good script. Lohan can't be witty on her own and can't slum through a movie and make us think we care. No, even Audrey Hepburn had good scripts. So did Ms. Romantic Comedy Meg Ryan, long time ago before monotony took over. Lohan may end up like Meg Ryan before she reaches her prime. That would be bad luck.

Vicious, unsentimental wordplay

CLOSER (2004)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia

Original Review from 2004

"Think of a euphemism for me."

"You are disarming."

"That is not a euphemism."

"Yes, it is."

These are such delicate words, powerfully acted by two lead actors, Natalie Portman and Jude Law, that you would think you were watching a very delicate romantic comedy. Not so. Mike Nichols' adaptation of Patrick Marber's play is vicious, unsentimental wordplay. Imagine watching an Edward Albee play adapted by Neil LaBute and you might get a rough idea of what you are in for.

The setting is modern day London. Jude Law is the failed novelist who writes obits. He notices a beaming young red-haired woman in the street. She is hit by a car but survives with minor wounds. He takes her to the hospital. He is late for work yet he is smitten by her. He goes to work and she leaves. Next scene shows Dan, having his photograph taken for a published novel he has written about Alice - the girl who was hit by a car. The photographer is Anna (Julia Roberts), who is more in love with her camera than with people. She takes her precious camera everywhere, including aquariums. Dan is easily smitten by Anna and asks her out after kissing her (a scene that is breathless in how long the take is focused on them). Anna refuses. And the scene ends with a moment of raw honesty, like most of "Closer."

Then we flash forward a few months later, sometimes a few years later, as Dan sets up a date with Dr. Larry (Clive Owen) by pretending to be Anna in an instant message chat. He asks the doctor to meet Anna at an aquarium and does, and the denouement is surprising for the doctor. Anna starts dating Larry and eventually marries him. Deceit continues despite the fact that Larry may be happily in love with Anna and vice versa. Same with Dan and Alice. Alice works at a strip club and has moved in with Dan. Dan is secretly having an affair with Anna. He admits this to Alice, who of course moves out briskly but not before asking if he ever loved her. Larry arrives back from a business trip and proclaims he had sex with a prostitute. Anna admits she has had an affair with Dan.

If this sounds like daytime soap opera, then it is the foul-mouthed version of it. Except "Closer" invites us to dig deeper, as about as deep as Neil LaBute can get on a good day, and doesn't just aim to shock and numb the audience with naughtiness. The characters aren't so much in love as much as they are in love with the truth - they are dishonest yet are arbiters of the truth when it comes to infidelity. Dan and Alice always get to the naked truth about whom they have been sleeping with, and why. Anna seeks to tell the truth but keeps delaying it. Larry is set in his ways, and plays games only to get what he wants - Anna as his wife. He even gets her to sleep with him to justify his signing the divorce papers. Mike Nichols makes this a modern-day tale of the lack of values and ethics in relationships and marriages. There are surprising and disturbing insights into how far people will go to hurt each other, though it is absurd to assume that Nichols is suggesting all relationships are like the ones depicted here. Instead, he chooses actors who infuse the characters with layers of humanity and heart so it makes it harder to pull away. Clive Owen shows what a bastard Larry is, but he also demonstrates the pain he feels not just in belaboring Anna's sexual preferences explicitly but also in knowing that she may not love him anymore. Julia Roberts shows the compassionate side of Anna, the observer of all, who may be more attuned to her feelings than anyone else. Still, she succumbs to deceit in the end. Then there is Jude Law who brings a morose puppy-dog look to Dan - he looks for truth in Alice and is resentful when she is honest. Yet he also resents doing the same. And the enigmatic Alice is looking for companionship and possibly love, but she may be as lost as anyone in the entire film. Can any of these people ever get along?

"Closer" is a cinematically rendered play, but a damn good one in every respect. Mike Nichols shows us frequent close-ups, examining the hurt and pain etched in each of his actors' faces (as he did in "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?") This is a movie of pure talk, one of the best reasons to see films nowadays. Of course, adapting a play to film can be tricky because you don't want to seem too talky - cinema has the capability to transfer small moments of observation with silence and gestures, tactics that are invisible in a play. Mike Nichols has the cinematic lure down pat, and consequently the words and gestures are magnified by the actors' divine, fascinating, introspective faces. There was a time when dialogue was as central to a film's success as any other aspect. The words in this film burn with such vitality that you'll be exhausted and yet enlightened. Sometimes, there are truly penetrating words referring to bodily fluids and sexual practices. But if you have seen "Carnal Knowledge," one of Nichols' earlier pictures, you will not be surprised that he is revisiting such roughly-hewn material.

It is not fair to single one actor out from the group. All perform as well as expected. Julia Roberts proves once again what a wonderful character actress she can be - it may help that she barely elicits that famous wide grin throughout. Jude Law is as perfect as he can be as the bookish, sad lover who is never satisfied with anyone. Clive Owen simply lacerates the screen with his roguish, haughty presence. Only Natalie Portman falls short of really pulling her character through - she seemed more at ease in "Garden State." Here, she seems unsure of herself, which may benefit the character though Alice remains too much of a cipher. Still, I admired many of Portman's scenes and consequently admire her for taking on such a risky role.

It is often said that audiences expect movies to uplift, to ease the cold, harsh realities of the world they live in. A dour picture like "Closer" will not make audiences sympathetic to the cold, harsh realities of love and the loveless that exist. And yet I found this film more optimistic than most dramas or romantic comedies about love - the closer you get to the reality of this movie, the better you'll feel that you may not have experienced the harshness, the pain, the guilt of loving someone. Or not.

Run, Julia, Run!

RUNAWAY BRIDE (1999)

Reviewed by Jerry Saravia (Original Review from 1999)

Imagine Joan Cusack as a weird, wild and wonderful woman with certain insecurities about herself, living in a town not unlike Mayberry or Pleasantville. She falls in love with an older reporter (Hector Elizondo) who comes into town trying to verify rumors about a bride who runs from every wedding opportunity, hence Cusack. Cusack falls for the old tiger, but differences settle in about age and she confides in a therapist (Richard Gere) who is a bespectacled man with a mustache - somewhere within this stiff she finds an attractive man if he would only shave that mustache and remove the glasses. Unfortunately. Gere has an attractive sister (Julia Roberts) who tries to protect him from her wooing. Naturally, Cusack ends up with Elizondo but there is a sense of bitterness and sadness that she did not end up with Gere. Alas, "Runaway Bride," although be warned that the plot description I just offered is not the movie itself. This is simply something I thought of while watching and trying to stay awake with this stale, laughless stupidity of a movie.

In reality, Garry Marshall's latest romantic comedy confection stars Richard Gere as "Ike" Graham, a columnist for the USA Today who has trouble coming up with any fresh ideas. He resorts to going to the local bar and is inspired by a patron who speaks of a "runaway bride," a woman who leaves men at the altar. Almost immediately Ike writes the column based on the patron's testimony (though this is never really made clear). Women on the street berate Ike and hit him on the head with rolled-up newspapers before he discovers a snarling letter from the bride herself printed by the editor. Apparently, Ike misrepresented many facts and exaggerated many figures. He is fired by the editor, his former wife (Rita Wilson). Now, Ike goes to this picture-postcard, Mayberry-like town and confronts the snarling woman, Maggie Carpenter (Julia Roberts). She is about to get married again, and Ike senses that she will run like a rabbit again. Or will she succumb to Gere's charm and smooth-talking demeanor? And is it possible that good romantic comedies are a thing of the past?

Basically, the formula is set up for this movie, and all the cliches are in place and nothing else. This is one of the most charmless, dullest and periodically dumbest movies I have ever seen. How can a respected director like Marshall reduce Gere and Roberts to cardboard cutouts with about as much sex and romantic appeal as a pair of refrigerators? Roberts is actually boring to watch in this movie - her wide grins and "duckbill platypus" mugging is unflattering to say the least. Gere seems more stiff than ever, and shares no charisma or chemistry with Roberts. Interesting, considering what a solid pair they were in "Pretty Woman," also directed by Marshall. I never understood the latter's success but it had gobs of wit and real emotions unlike this scrap heap. Nevertheless, Gere and Roberts felt like real people in that movie - here they are sitcom variations.

While desperately trying to stay awake, I noticed a couple of nods to "Pretty Woman," a cameo by Garry Marshall at a baseball game, and a video copy of "The Graduate," one of my favorite comedies of all time. There also is one good line about Fed-Ex trucks, and a couple of briefly delicious moments by the droll Elizondo. Outside of that, this "Bride" is of little merit. Even the quirky Joan Cusack (not weird as she is described by Roberts) is often excruciating. Jean Schertler as Grandma supplies a couple of chuckles but nothing more. And for trivia buffs, there is Julia's sister, Lisa Roberts, as "Elaine from Manhattan" in one scene.

Forget the silly "Pretty Woman," "Notting Hill," released earlier this year, was one of the best films of Julia's career - she carried the film with grace and subtlety and had the good sense of co-starring with the daffy Hugh Grant. They had sweet chemistry and had a solidly good script to boot from "Four Weddings and a Funeral" scribe, Richard Curtis. "Runaway Bride" has none of those virtues and seems to have been made in a rush. My advice to Ms. Roberts about future romantic comedies is to follow Lola's example: Run Julia Run!

20 Years Ago, in that nasty little wood chipper...

FARGO (1996)

An appreciation by Jerry Saravia

Best film of 1996 (Shared with Breaking the Waves)

20 Years Ago, in that nasty little wood chipper...

For better or worse, the Coen Brothers remains the most wildly original filmmakers in the cinema world right now. Being an advocate of their edgy, brilliant films like "Blood Simple" and "Barton Fink" and less of an admirer of "Raising Arizona" and "The Hudsucker Proxy," I always look forward to their next project. Their few failures are more interesting than the mediocre Hollywood movies that succeed. "Fargo" is another brilliant film in the Coens canon and a pleasant (or unpleasant) return to the dread and pessimism that "Blood Simple" wrought with an added sharp edginess and deliberately black comic humor that can make one wince. Twenty years later, it is still their most memorable effort, a delectable blend of black comedy, satire, blanc noir (white noir to the rest of you), family values and mayhem. 

"Fargo" stars the remarkable William H. Macy as Jerry Lundegaard, a Minnesota car salesman who is in deep financial debt. To get himself out of debt, he schemes to have his wife kidnapped by a couple of scummy lowlifes so that he can acquire the ransom demand from his wealthy father-in-law. Once Jerry gets the money, he can split it with the lowlifes for a percentage and pay off his debt. This is easier said than done and in the world of the Coens, nothing ever works out as it should.

"Fargo" is directed by Joel Coen and written by Ethan and Joel Coen, and the film certainly benefits by not being as simplistic or inane as any murder-of-the-week TV movie. "Fargo" has gobs of wit and malicious black humor but its main strength is derived from its sense of humanity. The humanity comes from Frances McDormand ("Blood Simple") as the local police chief, Marge Gunderson, who is very pregnant and is confronted with a triple homicide in the icy, cold, dour town of Brainerd. Marge is a strong-willed woman married to an almost sedate husband and would-be artist whose biggest concern is to paint pictures of mallards on three-cent stamps. Marge tries to solve the homicide case on her own (most of the police department is quite incompetent), and the trail of corpses leads to Fargo, North Dakota and back to Brainerd where she runs into a wild assortment of characters. They include bimbos who describe one of the killers as "funny-looking"; a lonely long-time admirer of Marge's; overly friendly waitresses and hotel employees; a tough-as-nails Native American who vouched for the kidnappers, and eventually the sneaky Lundegaard. They all speak in a high-pitched Minnesota twang that includes phrases like, "yah, sure," "ah, jeez," "you darn' tootin," and "well, yah."

Most of the truly black humor in "Fargo" centers around the two inept lowlife kidnappers (both played by Steve Buscemi and Peter Stormare). Everything goes wrong from the start when they kidnap Lundegaard's wife and kill three people along the way, not to mention a reversal in Lundegaard's plans with the kidnapping. Buscemi is the "funny-looking man" trying desperately to get the ransom and threatens Lundegaard by asking for more money. The reticent Stormare kills a police officer and just about everyone else who gets in the line of fire. These nitwits both altercate and fume with the kind of erratic energy that you can only find in a Coens film.

The performances are faultless to a tee, particularly Frances McDormand who gives Marge humanity, a wry sense of humor and an emotional control that is both calm and cautious, even when she sees a body being shredded in a wood chipper. It is clearly the role of her career (she won the Best Actress Oscar for it). Steve Buscemi is as always gleefully riotous as one of the hired kidnappers who becomes too frantic when he talks. Peter Stormare ("Damage") plays the other kidnapper who is silent and eerily menacing. Kudos must also go to William H. Macy ("Oleanna") who shows both fecklessness and cowardice with equal skill.

"Fargo" has everything a great film should have - great writing and great cinematography. The sharp characterizations and ostensibly playful dialogue, full of misunderstandings, stupid mistakes and accidents, brings a creepy veneer to the whole film. It is also fascinating how the film shifts beautifully from Lundegaard's predicament to Marge's investigation with terrific balance. The cinematography by Roger Deakins superbly employs the use of pure white (snowy landscapes, cloudy skies) thus evoking the ironic twists and turns of this chilling noir tale - a sort of film blanc steeped in the trappings of noir. There's one dazzling overhead shot where we see Lundegaard fiddling and banging the windshield of his car with an ice scraper and all that surrounds him is the frozen hell of Minnesota. Shots like these are abundantly used and reinforce an emotionally blank feeling to the audience - after seeing the film, you'll literally feel cold as ice. That may explain why hordes of audience members fled the screening I attended as soon as the credits rolled up. 

"Fargo" does leave you feeling cold but it is never less than enthralling, chillingly violent, sharply funny and entertaining. Marge and Lundegaard are two of the most original characters I've seen on the screen in quite some time. The brilliance of "Fargo" as a satire and black comedy is that it never steps too far over the line into exaggeration and comic buffoonery. In that respect, Marge and Lundegaard could have been presented as eccentric caricatures. The Coens have found a way of humanizing the oddest of people in the oddest of situations.