Burn After Reading B-

In Theatres, 96 Minutes, Rated R

The new Coen brothers film isn’t bad, it’s just disappointing. Not because they decided to follow up their most somber film to day, Best Picture Oscar-winner No Country for Old Men, with a farce, but because the farce is not that funny. In a farce, the writers/directors/producers make a deal with the audience. The audience gives the writer a great deal of leeway in believability, plot, timing, structure, and even the ending. And, in return, the filmmakers give the audience lots and lots of laughs, a generally smart skewering of society, and no answers. Burn has the skewering and lack of answers, but just doesn’t have enough laughs.
The plot is too convoluted to unravel here, but centers around a couple of fitness center employees (Frances McDormand, Brad Pitt) who come into possession of a disk of information they believe contains state secrets. They attempt to extort the ex-CIA owner of the disk (John Malkovic) for money to finance McDormand’s desired plastic surgery so that she can launch her new life. All the while Malkovic’s marriage to Tilda Swinton (Michael Clayton) is imploding, partially due to her affair with George Clooney, who is married and shagging multiple women he’s meeting on-line (including McDormand). J.K. Simmons as a C.I.A. man trying to keep track of the entire situation and Richard Jenkins as a fallen priest turned fitness center manager in love with McDormand round out the major players.

Pitt is magnificent in his stupidity with his ubiquitous ipod buds and obsession with hydration, and is the only likable character in the film. Clooney is something of a parody of his reputation while McDormand gives it her best, but can’t breathe humanity into Linda Litzke. It’s good to see Malkovic having a good time, and there’s a nice little nod to Fargo in his attack with a hatchet. Swinton plays a variation on the ice queen role she plays too well in both the Narnia films and Clayton. The rest of the players are solid, but the truth is, the more we get to know these characters, the less we like them.

Yes, there are some belly-laughs here, but not enough for the Coens to have held up their end of the bargain. And, yes, I get the skewering of in-the-beltway thinking, W., and the possible implications for this next election. And, yes, I get the larger critique of humanity in general and the general stupidity we’re all painted with. But here’s the deal: Give me laughs or give me answers. B-

PS. There are two groups of Coen bro. fans out there. I hate them both. One is typified by a gentlemen I spoke to in line for coffee at Borders today, who, upon hearing me tell an acquintance that Burn After Reading was disappointing, said, “It wasn’t disappointing. The first thing you have to realize is that no Coen brothers films are disappointing.” Okay, fine, buddy. I understand that perspective. Yes, this is better than a huge chunk of the drivel getting pumped out of Hollywood, and even their crappiest films are solidly constructed with the occasionally sublime scene. But, when your last film was No Country for Old Men, and your responsible for
Fargo, and a half-dozen other minor classics, you’ve set the bar pretty high. You can disappoint. The second group is made up of individuals who claim every new work by the Coens is, “Okay, I guess, but not nearly as good as their old stuff.” I pray I’m not part of that group, but after this review, the good reader may beg to differ.