O Brother; State and Main

O Brother, Where Art Thou?  

     The film opens in Faulkner country, a chain gang in Mississippi in the 1930’s, hot and sweaty as anything Faulkner ever imagined.  But, soon, in the memorable word of a blind man who has a special kind of sight, we are in for “startlements” that are older and wilder than Faulkner’s startling world.  As the title sequence makes clear, this is the wild and wooly road trip of Homer’s Odyssey.  As crazy as it sounds to stir up a Greek epic, America’s own now-mythical time of sorrows, the Depression, and some glorious music—from hobo ballads to gospel songs—the Coen brothers pull off a major “startlement” of their own with this rollicking rove and rave.

     The tale of three escaped convicts (George Clooney, Tim Blake Nelson, and John Turtutto) is marked by the Coens’ typically quirky humor but without their usual cruelty.  The Brothers say that they have never read Homer’s epic, but it is obvious that they have caught its spirit, from the very beginning, when “Big Rock Candy Mountain” starts things off with a hobo’s fantasy; after all, the Odyssey is the story of a hobo.  

     In an amazing achievement Homer’s spirit is joined to an American folklore of country music, traveling salesmen, dime stores, and Ku Klux Klan rallies. The KKK rally, by the way, is one of the funniest bits of film I’ve ever seen, with its echoes of—of all things—The Wizard of Oz.  There is a sense that all of this is right.  Homer’s yarn comes alive, and it feels very American. 

      Like the Odyssey and America’s own epic, Huckleberry Finn, this film celebrates rascals and rascalry, but finally, it celebrates love.

The cast is in fine form.  John Goodman and John Turturro, veterans of other Coen projects,  are goose-bump perfect in their roles, as is Charles Durning as the governor (he appears as a mayor in State and Mail), a good-old-boy populist.  

     George Clooney has never seemed to put as much into a role as he does this one, but what a juicy role it is, the fast talking con man (a pretty good take on Odysseus or Ulysses of Homeric fame) with a heart that is at least gold-plated.  Holly Hunter as his wife Penny (Penelope to Homer) plays off his performance with a level-headedness that makes his excesses believable.

     This is a real popcorn film, celebrating popular culture and music, with enough hints of its classical source or analog to keep the footnote-hunters happy.  But if you are Homerically disadvantaged, don’t worry, and please don’t stay away from this least depressed Depression-era tale.  None of the characters in this film ever read Homer either.  And, if you’re not into footnotes, surely you can get into foot-tapping, because this film’s great anthology of folk music makes this a film not just to hum but also to dance. 

State and Main  

     From Depression-era Mississippi, we move to the corner of State and Main in  Waterford, Vermont, where a Hollywood director (national treasure, William H. Macy) is trying to make a film called The Old Mill.  Not the least of his problems is that the town no longer has an old mill.  This is the second town in which he has tried to make his film, since the crew had to leave their New Hampshire location after the star (Alec Baldwin) gave in to his attraction to girls of about fourteen or fifteen.  

     Now, his lead actress (Sarah Jessica Parker) refuses to show her breasts, strangely, since they have almost become trademarks, and his very sensitive scriptwriter (Philip Seymour Hoffman) is requiring more and more attention, at least, until he falls in love with a bookstore-owner (Rebecca Pidgeon), who happens to be engaged to….

     But, the woes of the film crew are just half the story.  The townspeople have their own problems, involving old scandals about unsolved arsons.  A large cross-section of the town is presented, from the mayor (Charles Durning) and his wife (Patti LuPone), who invite the Hollywood folks to an absurd dinner, to a teenager (Julia Stiles), eager to help the star yield to his weakness for young women.    

      Yet, the whole enterprise ends up not as bitter as it seems destined to be, certainly not in the world of David Mamet.  Like Brother this film has a rich texture made up of a wide range of characters meeting, almost by chance, it seems.  

      Both films ramble, but in the end, both of them kept my attention for all their minutes on the screen.  Mamet’s ensemble moves briskly.  Macy has never been more caught up in a character’s machinations, with necessity becoming the mother of all motivation, and Hoffman’s romantic side is a delightful surprise.  

     A final similarity between these two films: both were completed before the prolonged turmoil of the 2000 election.  Both, however, include comments on the electoral process that seem weirdly appropriate as we look back on the last two months of 2000.  Be that as it may, State and Main and O Brother, Where Art Thou? both get my votes of gratitude for a couple of entertaining evenings.