Hail! Caesar
A demented, stupid, fun, hilarious rollercoaster of a film
God, I love the Coen Brothers. The reasons for this are manifold, and a lot of it has to do with a kind of undefinable quirky uniqueness (or “Coen-esque-ness”, if you like; I don’t, but you might) that permeates their movies, but the thing I find most impressive about the Coens is their versatility. Like that kid you used to know at school or college who could play any musical instrument within five minutes of picking it up, the Coens seem able to turn their hands to any genre of cinema. And they don’t just manage to get a tune out of it, either; they play it like a virtuoso. From quirky dramedies (Fargo) to hard-boiled gangster bloodfests (Miller’s Crossing) to goofball comedies (The Big Lebowski) to indie chin-scratchers (Inside Llewyn Davies), they very rarely hit a bum note, and while the Coens at their “worst” (Intolerable Cruelty or The Ladykillers, arguably) is still perfectly watchable, the Coens at their best (see above, plus O Brother, Where Art Thou?, No Country for Old Men, etc., etc.) is spectacular.
This mastery must surely be born of a genuine love of their craft. The Coens make films – much like, say, Tarantino – like people that have watched a lot of films. And analysed them. And loved them. This affection for cinema has never been more obvious in their work than in Hail, Caesar!, which could be described as their love letter to the golden age of Hollywood. (I won’t be describing it thusly, though, because a) it’s a bit of a hackneyed phrase, and b) Mark Kermode’s already used it.)
In typically convoluted Coens fashion, the plot boasts three main strands; the kidnapping of a Charlton Heston-esque movie star (George Clooney) by communist writers, the inconvenient pregnancy of an unmarried Esther Williams-esque starlet (Scarlet Johansson), and the foisting of an unsuitable young cowboy actor (Alden Ehrenreich) onto a seasoned and respected director (the beautifully named Laurence Laurentz, played brilliantly by Ralph Fiennes). Plaiting these strands together is Josh Brolin’s studio boss and fixer, who must smooth everything over while simultaneously contemplating increasingly attractive job offers from Lockheed’s headhunter.
If all this sounds a bit silly, that’s because it is. It’s also hugely ambitious and layered, with multiple films-within-films and frequent use of screens-within-screens. Hail, Caesar! succeeds, though, because it’s such enormous fun. In fact, I doubt the Coens have ever had as much fun making a film, and it’s certainly been a while since I’ve enjoyed a Coens film as much as this. The cast, which is a sprawling who’s who of A-list talent, seem to be having a gas, too, with Clooney, Fiennes, Tilda Swinton, and Frances McDormand being particularly memorable.
This isn’t the first time the Coens have tackled 1950’s Hollywood, though. 1992’s Barton Fink, which featured the same fictional movie studio (Capitol), was a much nastier affair, poking at the dark underbelly of the studio system through the tribulations of disillusioned writer John Turturro. Hail, Caesar!, though, is the other side of the coin. It’s far more affectionate, not so much poking at the underbelly, but tweaking the nose of Hollywood’s smiley face through a dazzling array of references and knowing nods to real-life 50’s films, personalities, and behind-the-scenes scandals.
That’s not to say that it doesn’t make some serious points, though, with Brolin’s central dilemma arguably addressing the question of whether cinema has any ultimate worth (it does), and some neat side-swipes at blacklisting (it’s bad). But there’s really no need to get chin-scratchy with Hail, Caesar!; It’s a demented, stupid, fun, hilarious rollercoaster of a film, and a worthy addition to the Coen Brothers’ bewilderingly impressive oeuvre.
