Torching Burn After Reading
Coen Brothers Film Is More Fizzle Than Sizzle
By: Charles Giuliano - Sep 14, 2008
If you come to the theatre expecting more on the level of Joel and Ethan Coen's 2007 Oscar winning "No Country for Old Men" well, fuggeddahboutit. We sat through the 90 plus minutes of "Burn After Reading" expecting, hoping, waiting for a movie to happen. Actually, the final scenes were hilarious. There was a hearty round of laughter last night in the cozy little art house Images in Williamstown. But a few absurd moments and scattered laughter were hardly enough to rescue this miscue.
With a dream cast and two often provocative filmmakers "Burn After Reading" had oodles of potential and cred. Once again, there was the dreamy pairing of the stunning heart throb actors George Clooney and Brad Pitt. Yumm. Add to that the homely, gifted, Oscar winning Frances McDormand (she won for the Coen's "Fargo" in 1996) and the fragile, enigmatic Tilda Swinton. The usual gonzo and menacing John Malkovich is the focal point of the film. There was also a minor role for the perennial character actor Richard Jenkins (from HBO's "Six Feet Under") and TV regular, J.K. Simmons, as a deadpan CIA superior.
What a waste of such a fine cast. We are never quite sure of what we are experiencing. Is this a farce? When I suggested that, Astrid asked "Where are the five doors?" Her word for the film was Spoof. I still like farce with our without the slamming doors. Perhaps the Coens are trying to evoke the era and touch of screwball comedy. This is particularly underscored by once again casting leading man, George Clooney, against type as a sex obsessed dolt. They scored with Clooney as an ersatz Ulysses in "Oh Brother Where Art Thou." It just didn't work out this time.
Once again, Clooney reveals a gift for the absurd but is mostly misdirected by the Coens. But nowhere to the degree to which Brad Pitt is absurdly undermined. He is presented as a doofus gym rat and partner in crime (blackmail) with fellow Hard Bodies employee Frances McDormand. A gym employee has found a CD in the locker room. Opening the file, Pitt (Chad Feldheimer), is flummoxed to find what he thinks are top secret CIA files. They are actually the notes of the fired agent, John Malkovich (Osbourne Cox), a good old boy from Princeton who has a drinking problem. To get back at the Company he is writing his memoirs as a former, lower tier, head of the Balkan Desk.
The homely McDormand (Linda Litzke) feels that the cure for her lonely hearts blues entails several surgical procedures. But her HMO doesn't want to foot the bill for nips and tucks. She needs a lot of money fast. So she and Chad are out to squeeze what they can from the disc. First they confront Osbourne. But he pushes back, so forcefully, that he gives Chad a bloody nose. Chad is like so totally stupid that he tags along when Linda marches into the Russian embassy to peddle their goods.
From here the plot spins out of control. On a park bench Linda hooks up with Harry (George Clooney). How the homely, surgery obsessed Linda beds down with the hunky Harry defies logic. But Harry apparently suffers from chronic satyriasis. He is cheating on his wife, an author of children's books, who, apparently is cheating on him in turn. Oh yes, along the way he inadvertently shoots Chad in the face. Don't ask. And let's just brush over how Osbourne axes the boss of Chad and Linda who has been drawn into their plot. Or how Osbourne, in turn, gets popped by an agent. See what I mean?
The most depressing part of "Burn After Reading" is the egregious manner in which the Coens squander all that talent. They give the superb and subtle Tilda Swinton (Katie Cox) little or northing to do. She is the icy wife of the gonzo Osbourne having an affair with the handsome but dense Harry. It seems that not only is Harry cheating on his wife, he is also cheating on his mistress, as well as on his ersatz sex buddy, Linda. It seems he just can't get enough. When not chasing skirts Harry, a do it yourself kind of guy, is building a sex machine in his basement. Yeah, I know, don't ask. Ok, I'll let you go. Good grief.