Ranking the Coen brothers

Joel Coen’s new solo movie, The Tragedy of Macbeth, goes into wide release via Apple TV+ this weekend. According to the Hollywood rumor mill, Joel undertook this project on his own because Ethan either “didn’t want to make movies any more” or is “giving movies a rest.” I hope it’s the latter, as I’ve followed the brothers since chancing upon their work more than twenty years ago and they’ve produced some of my favorite movies.

I’ve long sorted the Coens’ work into three tiers—a bottom tier of good but so-so movies, a middle tier of very good ones, and a top tier of masterpieces. I’ve dithered over which movies I’ve sorted into which tier, and more often than not the ranking has come down to longtime favorites and momentary whim. So to commemorate their long and fruitful collaboration and to celebrate the arrival of The Tragedy of Macbeth, I’ve finally made myself definitively sort their movies, bottom to top.

Note: I don’t include here short films produced as parts of anthologies or films they wrote or co-wrote but did not direct. There are some gems there—I’m quite fond of Bridge of Spies, which they did work on, and my wife and I love the underrated Gambit remake starring Colin Firth—but I’m restricting this list to movies that they wrote and directed.

And finally, as I’ll reiterate later, this is essentially a list of favorites, not a judgment of artistic merit, but naturally I do think the two mostly parallel each other.

Bottom of the barrel

Despite going into detail about that three-tier system I’ve always imagined, I include two extra sub-tiers at the top and bottom. Here’s the bottom, a space occupied by only one movie:

Intolerable Cruelty

This is the only one of the Coen brothers’ movies I dislike even a little bit, though it’s fun and clever enough and well enough acted. Part of my dislike stems from a curious shapelessness to the plot—it doesn’t always feel like it’s really going anywhere, which is not unusual for the Coens’ films but doesn’t work here. The main characters are also pretty unlikeable—again, not atypical for the Coens but in this case but it proves insurmountable. But the largest part of my dislike stems from its stylistic throwbacks to 1930s screwball comedies, which are hit or miss but mostly miss: the fast-paced rat-tat-tat dialogue works; the mugging and doubletakes and generally exaggerated clowning for the camera don’t. This is partly a matter of taste (Clooney’s own sports comedy Leatherheads falls flat for me for the same reasons), but it’s especially off-putting in a film set in the present and the result is a weaker film than usual, and the only one of their movies I resist watching.

Favorite line: “He had a device he called ‘the intruder’…”

Third tier

Third tier movies are fine movies that, for whatever reason, I seldom pick to watch. Having completed my rankings, I notice now that all three of these are slightly more arty (for lack of a better word) or thematically obscure than usual, and two have off-beat, potentially unsatisfying endings. That doesn’t diminish my enjoyment, but perhaps that, somehow, makes them a little less fun.

The Hudsucker Proxy

Here’s proof that the Coen brothers can do throwback screwball comedy and make it work. Bizarre and over-the-top, but riotously entertaining and inventive and with a generous dab of the uncanny thrown in. It’s also beautifully shot and designed. It’s bold and bizarre, and though I really like it, it’s just not one of my favorites.

Favorite line: “You know—for kids!”

Inside Llewyn Davis

Calling Llewyn Davis the Coens’ least likable protagonist is really saying something. This is a meandering but continuously interesting film that is long on atmosphere (the chilly, slushy big cities of the northeast and midwest in the most miserable part of winter) and the lore of early 1960s folk singers, and I appreciate the way it gently but clearly shows that the whole bunch were phonies. But Llewyn himself is not pleasant to spend time with and the film’s bookend structure, with its last-minute reveal of significant change coming the way of the folk music scene, feels more like a trick or gimmick than is usual even in the Coens’ bolder experiments.

Favorite line: “I don’t see a lot of money here.”

The Man Who Wasn’t There

A stylishly shot and well-acted black-and-white tribute to post-war suburban noir. You could say this is a triumph of style over substance, but there’s enough classic Coen brothers humor, dialogue, and general weirdness thrown in that it moves along really well. I especially like all of the weird, ambiguous, inexplicable UFO stuff lurking just outside of your awareness through the first half of the movie, and—best of all—Tony Shalhoub’s fast-talking lawyer, Freddy Riedenschneider, and his half-informed disquisition on the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle. It’s entertaining and intricately laced with irony, but unusually off-beat even for the Coens.

Favorite line: “The more you look, the less you really know.”

Middle tier

Again, this is a list of favorites, not necessarily a list judging artistic merit. The Coens’ “middle tier” movies would be masterpieces for a lot of other filmmakers. That said, this is a strong selection of their movies that I’ve watched many times but aren’t quite in that subjective, all-time-favorite top tier for me.

Raising Arizona

I originally assigned this one to the third tier, as I seldom pick it to watch, but you know what? I quote it all the time (“That’s you boys’ whole raison d’etre, ain’t it?”), my wife and I use it for comparisons and in-jokes all the time, and we have only grown to enjoy it more since having kids. It’s over-the-top and zany (“wacky” is the word cinematographer Barry Sonnenfeld ascribed to it, in contrast to a “handsome” movie like Miller’s Crossing) but it never stops being fun and enjoyable. It’s also got a touch of poignancy that sticks with you and runs much deeper than the wackiness, which may be why it sticks with you.

Favorite line: “Son, you got a panty on your head.”

A Serious Man

I really, really admire this movie as a modern (suburban 1960s) retelling of Job, which is perhaps my favorite book of the Bible. It cleverly mimics some of the structure of Job, with a conga line of both disasters and miserable comforters coming Larry Gopnik’s way, and has a dark, ambiguous ending that I really respond to. The Coens also revisit the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle here, with a line I’ve quoted a lot during the last two years: “We can’t ever really know… what’s going on.” But I’ve found in the years since it came out that I simply don’t enjoy it as much as I admire it.

Favorite line: “Please! Accept the mystery.”

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

This anthology film is essentially a collection of shorts, all of them good, some of them small masterpieces. I’m particularly fond of the Coens’ nearly wordless experiment “Meal Ticket”; the Jack London adaptation “All Gold Canyon,” which is almost entirely one old prospector grubbing in the dirt and singing to himself but which nevertheless manages to be riveting; and “The Gal Who Got Rattled,” a by turns sweet and grimly ironic wagon train story that, tonally, feels a lot like True Grit. The opening short featuring the titular Buster is also a hoot. I just wish it were available on home media rather than being sequestered in Netflix. Perhaps the Criterion Collection will rescue Buster someday.

I wrote more about The Ballad of Buster Scruggs in my 2018 year-in-review here.

Favorite line: “I’m not a devious man by nature, but when you’re unarmed, your tactics might gotta be downright Archimedean.”

Blood Simple

If you were to watch the Coens’ filmography in random order and told to figure out which movie was their first, picking Blood Simple would be a lucky guess. This is a moody, well-paced, stylistically confident noir thriller and one of the most suspenseful films I’ve ever seen.

Favorite line: “I ain’t a marriage counselor.”

The Ladykillers

I anticipate this being the most controversial ranking in my list. The deck would seem to be stacked against The Ladykillers—it’s a remake of a beloved British black comedy that still has fans, it was originally written for someone else to direct, it’s got a lot more slapstick than usual for the Coens, and, for a certain kind of person (known colloquially as a snob), the presence of Tom Hanks is a sign of the Coens “selling out.”

I say balderdash. This is the best possible combination of the Coens’ instincts for farce (much more successfully used here than in Intolerable Cruelty), black comedy, and—crucially—that hint of the spiritual or uncanny that hovers over so many of their films. In addition to being funny and quotable as the day is long, with a particularly great running gag involving my undergrad alma mater, there’s something interesting going on with the way the unassuming, crotchety, pious church lady Mrs Munson thwarts the dismissive, pompous, overeducated, and pointedly church-averse master criminal Professor Dorr. Knowledge puffing up? The foolish things of the world confounding the wise? Intentionally or not, there’s a lot of that here. The Ladykillers is not just a black comedy or farce, it’s a morality play.

A great soundtrack, including a lot of archival music arranged, like that of O Brother, Where Art Thou? by T Bone Burnett, helps make the movie and sell its themes. My favorite track, by Blind Willie Johnson, closes the film.

Favorite line: “Why, Professor! I’m surprised.” “Well, uh, properly speaking, madam, we are surprised. You are taken aback.”

Burn After Reading

A broad but incisive satire of self-help and positive thinking culture, with brutal consequences for just about everyone but the person who causes all the trouble, this has some great performances and one of the only genuinely shocking moments I’ve ever seen in a movie. But, based on conversations with friends, its unblinkingly savage satire and willingness to go dark may make Burn After Reading an acquired taste.

Favorite line: “…The Russians?”

Miller’s Crossing

An intricately plotted, well-written, and brilliantly acted gangster movie that is both witty and grim by turns. Miller’s Crossing is a slow burn that rewards close attention and repeat viewings.

Favorite line: “What’s the rumpus?”

Top tier

The top tier consists of my favorites of the Coens’ filmography, movies that I’ve found endlessly entertaining and meaningful and about which I have no complaints. My second and most important sub-tier comes at the end, with my three all-time favorites from among these.

Fargo

The Coens have always shown interest in regionalism—local culture, local mores, and especially local dialect—and Fargo is almost certainly their masterpiece in this regard. It also perfectly mingles wildly disparate tones: nearly documentary-style true crime, kitchen sink realism, horror, and, of course, dark comedy. Carter Burwell’s score, based on a Norwegian hymn, is also excellent.

Favorite line: “And I guess that was your accomplice in the wood chipper.”

Hail, Caesar!

Another potentially controversial ranking, judging from some of what I’ve seen online from people who expected it, apparently, to be a straightforward mashup of classic Hollywood or who have strong opinions about Esther Williams parodies. This is the Coens’ Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, and as such follows a handful of specific characters through the Tinseltown zoo over the course of one day. Eddie Mannix, a tough but put-upon studio fixer, and Hobie Doyle, a singing cowboy shoehorned into an arty chamber drama, are wonderful characters (and two of my favorites of any on this list) and offer perhaps the strongest moral center of any of the Coens’ protagonists. In contrast to the juvenile, pompous, sloganeering, resentful Communists threatening to undermine the studio (the same studio, incidentally, from Barton Fink), Eddie and Hobie have a sense of vocation and duty to something transcendent that gives their otherwise absurd lives worth. The final confrontation between the film’s two worldviews, the Catholic Eddie versus materialist Communist proselyte Baird Whitlock, ends with a powerful teleological expression of life’s meaning.

That’s a wonderful theme, but themes do not a great film make. Fortunately, as rich as the film is in meaning, it’s entertaining first and foremost. Hail, Caesar! is a ton of fun, with its parodies of 1950s genre filmmaking, its delight in the workaday activity of a studio, and the sense of a vibrant, gossipy, yet slightly seedy little community within the studio, and most especially its collection of interesting and funny characters.

Favorite line: I’m going to cheat here—it’s either the entire scene with the priest, rabbi, minister, and patriarch or the entire “No Dames” musical scene, a master class in, uh, extended double entendre.

The Big Lebowski

The ultimate hang-out movie: a big, shambling, sprawling, continuously surprising comedy that is by turns funny, shocking, outrageous, and—very briefly—poignant. Meandering but never unfocused, as seemingly aimless as The Big Lebowski is, it is perfectly paced. Drop in anywhere during its runtime and you’ll be there for the rest of it. It’s also perhaps the most quotable movie ever made, which is why, when trying to choose a favorite line for this movie below, I gave up and wrote the first one that came to mind.

Favorite line: “Don’t be fatuous, Jeffrey.”

True Grit

Charles Portis is one of two authors—with Cormac McCarthy—for whom the Coens are ideal cinematic adapters. (I wish they’d take a crack at his final novel, Gringos.) This film, a second adaptation of the novel rather than a remake of the original John Wayne version, perfectly captures the knowing, wry, understated, and witty but surprisingly poignant tone of the book. Great action and performances, especially in the central relationship between Mattie and Rooster, and a beautiful soundtrack elevate and enrich this seemingly simple Western revenge story.

Favorite line: “I do not entertain hypotheticals, the world as it is is vexing enough.”

Absolute favorites

I’ve really struggled to sort this list into a neat and tidy hierarchy, and if you catch me some other time some of these films may be reshuffled. But not these three.

In addition to my three-tier model of the Coens’ movies, I’ve had a theory for a long time that, thanks to how wildly varied their eighteen films are, a psychologist could potentially create a personality test more accurate than the four temperaments, the five factor model, the Myers-Briggs, or—Lord knows—the Enneagram by simply having people pick their three favorite Coen brothers movies. Here are mine.

Barton Fink

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that writers like stories about writers and like writers who write stories about writers. Guilty. There’s plenty of that to go around, but this is the pinnacle of that genre—my favorite writing movie. Part writer’s block drama, part black comedy, part noirish mystery, part supernatural apocalypse, Barton Fink incorporates several of my favorite kinds of storytelling in a dark but funny and atmospheric package. (It also perfectly captures how I perceive all hotels.) John Turturro is brilliant as the smart but self-regarding and cowardly Barton, and John Goodman, as Barton’s next-door neighbor in the hotel, gives a wonderfully warm and genial performance that only makes some of the film’s final-act revelations more chilling.

I don’t want to say much more, because part of this film’s peculiar power for me was going into it knowing virtually nothing about it. Check it out. Just know that I’m not exaggerating when I say that if I can craft just one climax in one story with the eeriness and uncanny, overrushing sense of apocalypse of Barton Fink, I’ll consider myself a success.

Favorite line: “Me? I just enjoy making things up.”

No Country for Old Men

Well-written, well-acted, beautifully shot in desolate Texas locations, with precisely constructed action and steadily building tension, this is a brilliant adaptation of a great novel and probably the Coens’ perfect movie. And despite its downer ending, I’ve found it and Tommy Lee Jones’s haunting final monologue a profound meditation on the duty to preserve the good in the face of ubiquitous and seemingly unstoppable evil, and it’s only gotten better in the years since I first saw it in theatres.

Favorite line: “Well, it’s a mess, ain’t it, Sheriff?” “If it ain’t it’ll do till a mess gets here.”

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Putting in a couple weeks thinking through, organizing, and writing this list has actually helped me determine that, yes, I do have a single favorite Coen brothers movie, and it’s the very first one I watched over twenty years ago now. O Brother, Where Art Thou? is funny from beginning to end, is brilliantly constructed and written, has a great cast and wonderful soundtrack, and is deepened, sweetened, and made all the funnier by the riches of both Homer and the South. It has a little of everything, and it’s all great.

And, as a nice bonus for me twenty-odd years on from discovering this film and the Coens, this is one of the only films that, reliably, the majority of a given class of students will have both seen and remembered well enough to make it a useful point of reference in class. This isn’t just entertainment for me, it’s actually helped me teach. A rare distinction, and I’m glad it’s true of a movie I love so much.

Favorite line: “Sweet Jesus, Everett. They left his heart.”

Conclusion

I’m looking forward to catching Joel Coen’s Tragedy of Macbeth. In the meantime, thanks for sticking with me through this project, which I’ve been mulling over since before Christmas, and if you haven’t seen all of the Coen brothers’ films, I hope you’ll find something enticing enough here to seek out and enjoy.