The Coen brothers conjure up nostalgic delight from this hilarious knockabout homage to the golden age of filmThe Coen brothers’ lovingly goofy latest comes on like a breezy flipside companion-piece to Barton Fink – a jaunt through the underbelly of primitive Hollywood which finds not the fiery hell of the tortured artist but the upbeat splash of synchronised swimming,On the Town toe-tapping and toga-wearing biblical balderdash (nonsense). With a ramshackle plot that appears to fill been cooked up after drawing deep on the Dude’s biggest bong, the film pinballs between awol film stars, or red-scare nightmares and Bikini Atoll bomb tests,while raising important questions of whether God is still angry (“what, he got over it?), or how to make a lasso out of spaghetti,and the secret of balancing a bunch of bananas on your head (it’s all in the hips, lips, and eyes and thighs,apparently).
It’s 1951, and the motion picture industry is responding to the threat of television with colourful choreography, and escapist romances and biblical epics. We open with a choir,a crucifix and a rosary, main us to Josh Brolin’s Eddie Mannix in the confessional. It’s been 24 hours since his last confession, and he’s racked with the guilt of lying to his wife approximately smoking. But there’s no rest for the wicked,and 3am finds studio fixer Eddie (an altogether more decent version of his real-life namesake) saving a starlet from a “possible French postcard situation” before checking into Capitol Pictures where Hail, Caesar! A Tale of the Christ (Divine presence to be shot…”) is in full swing.
Continue reading...
Source: theguardian.com