As acting president of the Coen Brothers' fan club, I might not be in the most neutral position to review Hail, Caesar! But I think this also puts me in a good position to see when their work might not be up to snuff - and while their latest might be one of the funniest, most original screwball comedies we're likely to see this year, it's ultimately empty, adding up to little more than a collection of well-made sketches.
The story - if there even is one - follows Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin), who's based on the real-life "fixer" in 1950s Hollywood, responsible for handling stars and covering up scandals. In the history books, he's a dark figure, who was famously involved in the suspicious death of Superman star George Reeves. But the Coens consciously re-invent him as a nice guy, who visits his priest every 24 hours to confess smoking a cigarette after he's told his wife he's going to quit. It's like Mannix himself has had a hand in his own script. Yet it serves their overall vision - that Hollywood, for all its flaws, is a palace of dreams, full of kooks and oddballs who are all granted with the opportunity to weave their own brand of movie magic.
Mannix is working on Hail Caesar: A Tale of the Christ, a prestigious bible-epic with a big star, Baird Whitlock (George Clooney). Problem is, Whitlock gets drugged and kidnapped, so Mannix has to pull some strings and recruit the help of some stars to get his movie star back, all while keeping things out of the reach of the press and ruminating on an attractive job offer.
And...that's about it, really, as far as plot goes. What this really gives the film an excuse to do, though, is pastiche the hell out of classical Hollywood. And what a cast the Coens have assembled to do so. Beyond Clooney doing Ben-Hur, we have Scarlett Johannson doing an Esther Williams mermaid musical; we have Channing Tatum doing a brilliant imitation of tap-dancing Gene Kelly; and in the film's best scene, we have singing cowboy Alden Ehrenreich (who surely deserves to become the film's breakout star) trying his hand at a period costume drama, under the command of impatient thespian Ralph Fiennes.
Throw in a scene with a Soviet submarine, and some great blink-and-you'll-miss-them cameos from Wayne Knight and Clancy Brown, and surely you've got a hit? Well, not exactly. While the Coens have always had a deft touch for movie magic, creating worlds we could never even dream of, they're not always so great at filling their films with urgency. The through line of the film is Mannix, and he struggles a bit with his faith. But for what purpose? Nothing that happens to him during the timeline of the film seems to test him in any way. The kidnapping storyline with Clooney? Well, spoilers, but it resolves itself. There's a couple of subplots to do with communism, and star image - but again, it's all airy nothingness, that makes very little impact. I mean, it's fine for the stakes to be low in a comedy - but can't we give these tremendously talented people something to do beyond just showing up on-screen?
In fairness, the film sort of engages with this, even if it doesn't offer anything more interesting in return. In conversations with his priest, Mannix says his job is easy, and to do something harder - and more serious - somehow feels "right". But he doesn't. He's too enchanted with the movies. And I think the Coens, for all their clever deconstructions of the medium, love the movies too. In fact, I don't think it's a stretch to say that, for them, the movies are like a religion. It's just a shame this is one of their weaker psalms.
★★½
