Review of The Man Who Wasn't There (2001) by Bitter E — 30 Dec 2010

I have a theory about watching movies-you always seem to enjoy them most when you least expect to. I can cite several films which, through a serendipitous turn of events, brought me over to loving them when I was initially poised to dig my incisors as far into their throats as I could. The Man Who Wasn't There is one such film. I can't tell you precisely when it started to win me over-maybe it was when the first tragedy occurred or when I realized that for once Billy Bob Thornton wasn't playing an asshole (evidently Bad Santa came after this). I can tell you that when I saw the Coen Brothers' names attached to the end credits it all made sense. I was too busy categorizing my hate mail into their respective trash bins during the opening sequence to notice their involvement, but thinking back over the film I recognize their characteristic touch.

Joel and Ethan Coen have this kind of magic to them where they can give each project its own life while maintaining an eerie, almost dream-like atmosphere. Unlike numerous other filmmakers who mass-produce summer blockbusters like they were five-cent Happy Meals toys, the Coens never seem to sacrifice the quality of a movie just to get it over with. They give it their meticulous attention and try to find the art even in the most humdrum stories.

Ed Crane (Thornton) is a reluctant barber who spends his days analyzing and perfecting hairstyles for his customers, much like a small-time Lady Gaga only laced with the repression of the 50's. Even when he discovers that his wife, Doris (Frances McDormand), is cheating on him he takes about as much interest in the affair as I do when I hear another cat trapped in the attic. One day, however, a man named Creighton Tolliver (played by that sniveling bald guy who's in every Coen Bros. movie...don't look at me that way, you know who I'm talking about) enters the shop and, like all barbershop customers, gabs about needing an investor so he can open up a dry cleaning business. Ed takes an interest and blackmails his wife's lover for the money by anonymously threatening to reveal their affair to the community. After paying Tolliver, the salesman disappears (probably to waste it on more pointless haircuts for his bald ass) and Ed is forced to kill the lover once he figures out the scam, causing Doris to be prosecuted of the crime.

It's a pretty fucking bleak film overall which is likely why I enjoyed myself thoroughly throughout, even when I had to keep turning up the volume to drown out the sounds of scratching from upstairs. One of the most captivating elements is the soundtrack, which captures the mood to a tee and cakes on a whole new level of atmosphere to the story. In particular, the film relies heavily on Beethoven's "Pathetique" Piano Sonata as played by a girl named Birdie (Scarlett Johansson) which becomes a symbol of beauty for Ed's otherwise dreary existence, and for once I'm in complete agreement with a character ("Holy shit, I can sympathize with other living things again," I thought as the clawing slowed to a halt). Every time that piece reemerges it's like a moment of fragile tranquility that threatens crumble if you grasp too tightly-it was even inspiring enough to make me rush out and buy a Beethoven album the next day. I expect, however, that for most people the real jewel to take from that observation is that Scarlett Johansson is indeed in this movie. I don't necessarily understand that obsession-to me Johansson's voice sounds like a gruff prison inmate's whose trying to seduce me into sharing a bunk with him-but if it's enough to get somebody to take an interest, I'll go with it.

On that note, there are a few spots that irk me about the whole movie-moments when the brothers get a little too indulgent with their dream-like style. The first time a character mentioned aliens I assumed we were supposed to think they were insane yet evidently somebody thought they should run with it so we get a couple of "What the Fuck" moments where a saucer is referenced. Even if the aliens thing is a dream or a poorly integrated symbol, it's a pretty big leap into fantasy for a story that does a damned good job of grounding itself in the late 40's. Why don't we just go ahead and throw 14th century warlocks into the mix; they can symbolize a post-Hiroshima viewpoint of the world where anything is possible? They can also wear funny hats and shirts that say things like "McCarthyism" and "Post-Colonial Fascism." I'll also say that there's a bit of a twist near the end that was fairly obvious in hindsight and which, if you saw coming, will undoubtedly ruin the remaining plot for you. Additionally it's fairly slow paced, so if you're the type of person who needs a 'splosion every couple of seconds to keep you awake then I hear Michael Bay might have a movie or two for you.

All in all, though, I didn't succumb to boredom because the acting is pretty high caliber and there's so much left to interpretation (the title alone gives you pause to think). For me, this culminates in a scene early on where Ed allows himself to be nearly choked to death by his wife's lover. He keeps his arms coolly by his side; he doesn't raise a word of protest or even a gasp-he just stares passively at the man, waiting. Gawking into an unfeeling face as if he can't even help himself, as if his fate has been determined by more powerful men. Then, after a full minute of waiting, he finally strikes out with a knife he had in his hand the whole time, killing the man. Just what fuck that all meant is never really explained but I prefer it that way-too many movies say too much when all they need is a decent script and strong actors. Thornton's performance here forces me to rethink my opinion of him-he's not really a bad actor as much as he is a good actor who prefers to be in shitty movies. And that's a damn shame because between this movie and Slingblade he could go on to be one of the most highly demanded stars in the business. I guess I can't blame a man for half-assing something though, I threw together this review while waiting for the attic to finish fumigating.

I like this film but I can't really try to force it down your throat as much as I usually do because it has some glaring faults which, if you focus on them, can overshadow everything the Coens do right. I guess I do have to take this time, however, to point out something that's been bothering me-this is the fourth film in a row that's received a good rating from me. This can only mean one thing: I'm getting soft. In other words, whatever film I review next I promise to rip to fucking shreds. I wouldn't want to upset anyone, would I?