16/31: Burn After Reading
Photo: Working Title
Me, several times while watching Burn After Reading: “Wait, what? …Oh, who cares.”
Slightly more enjoyable than A Serious Man, which for me is saying very little, Burn After Reading is basically A Serious Man: D.C.: disorganized, overly broad, standing back from its cheap jokes to admire them. Like ASM, this one “feels more underthought than anything, as if they tired of the idea in the middle of pre-production and didn’t dig into the problems it presented”; Exhibit A is the ending, which is literally told to us in the form of a conversation between JK Simmons and David Rasche (their characters don’t get names, by the way) instead of shown onscreen. One guy gets shot; another is trying to flee to a country with no extradition treaty; a third is trading information for plastic surgery, terms the CIA agrees to. This is the kind of shit you should probably not dump in a dialogue footnote, but the Coens appear to have believed that “shallow, intellectually limited gym employees blackmail a recently-fired alcoholic operative played by Malkovich while having terrible hair” is high-larious enough not to require an actual plot.
Well, besides the subplots about serial marital infidelity, and Clooney’s character building a Rube Goldberg dildo chair. This is what I’m talking about, though — fine, everyone’s a contemptible cartoon. And? What’s the point? What’s the story here? George Clooney can do a girlish silent-movie Bill-Irwin run when he thinks one of his extracurricular girlfriends is actually a spook. Good for him. What’s the point?
I said not too many days ago in this space that I like a slice of life, and I don’t require a narrative backbone, and it’s still true; I don’t need a tidy lesson, either. But if every single person in a story is either a despicable dumbass, ruthlessly selfish, or both; if their shameful motivations aren’t also the least bit credible; and if all you really want to do was find a place for the plastic-surgery consultation bit because you thought the missus would kill it, just stop. Put the script in a drawer. Don’t shoot it. Frances McDormand can get jobs without your help. It’s a collection of boors you don’t like or relate to at all — except Cox, of course, poor unappreciated boozy Cox in his bathrobe. Malkovich is the only member of the company who isn’t trying much much too hard to register, because he’s the only one the script doesn’t hate, and it’s a shame, a waste of Richard Jenkins and Tilda and a few cute bits of blocking from Brad Pitt. And it’s a waste of Cox as a character, too, because following him, seeing what happens next with his “mem-wah,” what a “Spy Vs. Spy” might have looked like with Cox pitted against Linda and Chad and a little less of this other Updike foolishness with the cheating.
I would call Burn After Reading mean, but I don’t think it rises to that level. It doesn’t care enough about the characters or itself to qualify. It has the seeds of a funny spy farce, but like A Serious Man after it, the Coens seem to have got bored with the story before pre-production even ended, and this is the result. It isn’t offensively bad, just aggressively trifling. For completists only.
Tags: 31 Days 31 Films A Serious Man Bill Irwin Brad Pitt Burn After Reading David Rasche Frances McDormand George Clooney JK Simmons John Malkovich movies Richard Jenkins The Coen Brothers Tilda Swinton
Supposedly, “Burn After Reading” was supposed to be to spy/conspiracy thrillers (particularly of the 70’s and 80’s) as “The Big Lebowski” was to private eye/film noirs. The problem was, unlike “Lebowski”, the humor didn’t land for me. It wasn’t just that everyone was a caricature – that didn’t hurt “Lebowski” – but the fact the humor was played at one note most of the time, and a shrill one at that. There were a few people who toned it down – most notably Richard Jenkins – but for the most part, it was annoying rather than funny. I will say a couple of things: (a) unlike you, I didn’t mind those scenes between J.K. Simmons and David Rasche because they were funny, and they also hinted at the shaggy dog story the movie wanted to be, but couldn’t quite get to (unlike, again, “Lebowski”, (b) I do want to watch it again, as even my least favorite Coen brothers movies play better the second time; however, (c) I’m beginning to think as much as I like the Coens, and as much as I like George Clooney, they aren’t really good for each other, which is why I’m awaiting their upcoming collaboration, “Hail Caesar”, with trepidation.
Oh, and we must agree to disagree about “A Serious Man”; I think it’s one of their best films, and a great modern-day (relatively) version of the Book of Job, which I would say was the point. The movie all came together for me in the scene where the rabbi (I forget the character’s name, but he’s played by George Wyner, whom I remember best as the lawyer of Fletch’s ex-wife in the two “Fletch” movies) tells Michael Stuhlbarg about the dentist who becomes (briefly) obsessed with the pattern in someone’s teeth. Basically, I think the message was, you can’t worry about the Big Picture stuff, you can only let it happen, because what you did in the long wrong about that doesn’t matter.
I agree that the Book of Job was the intent; the idea is not bad, but the Coens frequently betray an impatience with smaller/frumpier existences than their own. It isn’t a good look, and when I dislike a Coen joint, a thorough-going contempt for its own subjects is usually the reason, as here.
I’ll respectfully disagree with Sean Gallagher about the Coens and Clooney, at least insofar as ‘O Brother’ is concerned. I freaking love everything about that movie. I even forgive the studio echo on the soundtrack of the song during the baptism (which takes place outside), so vast is my goodwill. I think Clooney really got a kick at playing a leading man as asshole.
I think the only funny thing about this movie is that I get to tell people how I saw it with my parents, who wanted to see “something funny” and asked the guy at the ticket counter what to see.
I did get a wry smirk out of how much of a sex fiend Clooney was. (Did you catch the liberator pillow? In one scene there’s a quick shot of a triangular cushion on a bed in Clooney’s room. This is actually a specialized item that’s designed to put the lady’s bum in the proper position for sexing.)
The whole Coen brothers’ output seems to be variations on “these people think they got it all figgered out, but really they’re soooooo dumb. Ha! Ha!”
I really want to see this, but the sproingboink chair sort of puts me off. It’s not a prude thing; it’s an…”Ow.” thing.