If the Coens took screwball comedy and blended it through their warped minds to create Raising Arizona, a film very much stamped with their likeness, then Miller’s Crossing follows the same pattern but more closely adheres to the genre (neo-noir thriller this time) than their twisted sensibilities. Don’t take that as a knock though, because this is one damn good film.
Now, I love originality. I love the feeling of seeing something new and fresh, being surprised at the unexpected, appreciating the inventiveness required to find a path that has not been taken. But we’ve been storytelling since the moment we were able, painting on a cave wall so that others might know what we had seen; it’s in our collective DNA. With such a rich history and lore, there’s nothing wrong with telling a story that’s been told before. Hell, Shakespeare’s audience, even the lower classes, all knew the stories ahead of time.
What separates a simple re-tread from a worthwhile experience though lies in the craft. Yes, the plots were common knowledge, but Shakespeare’s mastery of his craft—the written word, and dialog in particular—was the real show. (I don’t really know squat about Shakespeare, so feel free to correct.)
With Miller’s Crossing, the Coens’ craft is, for the first time in their filmography, front and center, and it’s wonderful to behold. The very first scene [spoiler alert] is the pebble starting the avalanche, the film consisting of that first conflict slowly swelling, writ large and dark and funny and sprawling.
Sure, on its surface it’s a gangster flick set during the Prohibition, but that’s merely the framework for a tapestry of characters, each unique, in the truest sense of the word.
There’s Eddie the Dane and Mink, but also Mink and Bernie, whose sister is Verna, Tom’s lover. Now Tom works for Leo, but is smarter than everyone, including Johnny Casper, the hot-headed rival and employer of Eddie the Dane, who truly hates Tom. Against Tom’s advice, Leo courts Verna, the consequences of which start a war. And that is quite a bit of craft, of course aided by a perfect cast.
[Sidebar: Not to idolize them or anything, but in almost every on of their films there’s an intangible feeling that they got the best out of their actors, each one cast in the perfect roll. The average filmgoer probably doesn’t think too much about casting, about the way a role could be a custom-made suit or dress, or any other non-gendered garment, for an actor. By not only directing but also writing every one of their features, they are free to be in control from start to finish, creating roles for actors in which they can excel. Or at least that’s how it seems to be. Jeff Bridges IS the Dude; Frances McDormand IS Margie Gunderson; JAVIER BARDEM IS ANTON CHIGURH.]
1. The slang. Knowing the Coen Brothers, it’s accurate, but also difficult enough to give it a good amount of rewatchability (is that a thing?). As you get to understand it better, you also appreciate the writing more, which never hurts.
2. The cast. Everyone shines in this film. Albert Finney with a Tommy gun and a cigar hanging out his mouth while his house burns down. Marcia Gay Harden rocking a diamond-sharp wit right before throwing a wicked punch to put Gabriel Bryne in his place. John Turturro watching his fortunes rise and fall in an instant.
It was a close one, but I personally think the oddity and the originality of Raising Arizona trumped the craftsmanship of Miller’s Crossing.
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