O Brother, Where Art Thou?Legends and tall tales spin a yarn which lure us into the depths of their siren's song. They persist for many reasons, and are passed down through the ages. Some come to us through the dictate of politics, the proclamations of the kings, presidents, turning the weather vane to blow in their direction, writing history. Other stories and parables are passed on in the annals of spiritualism and religion, the words we long to hear deep in our soul, washing (warshing?) away our sins and transgressions. And even other epic ballads survive as song or poetry, the words and rhythm which stir us and draw us all together from all corners far and wide.
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O Brother, Where Art Thou? is--in true Coen Brothers fashion--an unusual gem in the firmament of modern cinema; like much of their work, it defies easy categorization. It is a political movie without being political, it is a spiritual movie without being spiritual, it is a musical without the trappings of that genre; it dances easily between all three, while never committing to one or any of these styles. Set in the midst of the Great Depression--1937, to be exact, in the deep south of Mississippi--O Brother, Where Art Thou? is the story of three convicts escaped from a chain gang, in search of a treasure secreted away by the eloquent spokesman for the outfit, Ulysses "Everett" McGill (George Clooney). The charmingly verbose pomade-enthusiast is accompanied--it is hard to say with an accent--by Pete Hogwallop (John Turturro) and Delmar O'Donnell (Tim Blake Nelson), themselves a bit more simple than their self-appointed leader, but enthused at the prospect of splitting the secret treasure of "one million point two dollars" (that's four hundred thousand each, Delmar, not five), but not enthused at the idea of having to evade the long arm of the law--and other, less savory forces--in order to reach their promised land. Along their odyssey--a quite literal description, given that O Brother, Where Art Thou? is inspired by the epic Ancient Greek poem, the Odyssey--they will encounter all manner of oddities and perils, things which appear to embody certain qualities of this fantastic picaresque of Everett and his accomplices. For those who are familiar with the Odyssey, the episodes in O Brother, Where Art Thou? carry extra artistic weight; but don't let that make you feel like it's exclusive--far from it. Moments like the "sirens" seducing the trio of jailbirds with their crooning spiritual, or the brutal encounter with the titanic "cyclops"--a vicious bible salesman going by Daniel "Big Dan" Teague (John Goodman)--are nuggets of delightful film, even in absentia of the literary underpinning. There are other aspects of the mythos of the South, like the guitarist, Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King)--who sells his soul to play the blues--creep in to add color to the film, giving it an identity--like America--which draws from sources come before, and its own identity to produce something unique and also culturally significant.
O Brother, Where Art Thou? charms with its playfulness, it's mildly cartoonish depiction of the dusty backroads and dilapidated shacks of dirt poor Mississippi, its denizens generally given to speech immersed in hillbilly colloquialism. But while the film is a satire of setting and some of its more recognizable cliches, it is not only cautious not to make fun of and alienate its constituency, it is actually more endearing because of the reverence to the culture and heritage where it's due, and devastatingly clever in its denouncement of that culture and heritage which is not worthy of respect. A consistent presence of music--spiritual, bluegrass, folk music--could be played for chuckles, so asynchronous with our "modern musical tastes"; but instead O Brother, Where Art Thou? devotes its attention to the songs from the South, music which is uplifting and exciting. It's no wonder that the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou? was such a hit when the film debuted...as in the film, people couldn't get enough of the "Soggy Bottom Boys". A great scene which highlights this--and the theme of religion--is when the escaped find themselves hiding out in a forest, having only recently "R-U-N-N-O-F-T" from the police, only to discover the sudden presence of a group of Baptists, singing a song of praise and salvation, making their way to the water. The skeptic Everett sneers at the idea of what he calls "superstition", but the simple Delmar races toward the minister, is dipped in the lake, and emerges beaming with a kind of peaceful grace; the particular treatment of this scene is really a testament to the Coen Brothers signature style and craftsmanship. In the hands of another, this scene might have been played to condescend to the idea that faith saves, or it might have slipped into an overly somber moment. Delmar has--by this point--already established himself as the weakest mental link in the chain gang alumni, but after his transformation, he speaks with an assurance of his salvation, not from any superstitious delusion, but of faith, pure and simple. The benevolence of faith and the mercy of music is contrasted with the political climate a little more than a year before the next major election, the two contenders for governor fighting a mudslinging battle, employing any kind of tactic to get the upper hand. The politics--which amounts to little more than a dog and pony show, or "little man and broom" show, as the case may be--is really no different than it is today. And like Everett, we may get caught up in the swell of the storm, but frankly, these blowhards are not really a part of our lives, they are just doing what politicians do best: trying to get elected. O Brother, Where Art Thou? is, itself, a kind of "crossroads" movie, an early example of a digital intermediate finishing process being used for the whole film, ironically giving the movie the appearance of a relic from a bygone era. O Brother, Where Art Thou? remains a perennial household favorite, and you'll be challenged not to crack a smile or tap your feet at almost every turn.
Recommended for: Fans of a charming tale of a group of likable ne'er-do-wells on an adventure through the Depression Era South, full of moments of uproarious comedy and even thought-provoking assessments of moral fiber and integrity, with a solid assortment of music that recalls why the blues and spirituals are at the heart of modern music.
O Brother, Where Art Thou? charms with its playfulness, it's mildly cartoonish depiction of the dusty backroads and dilapidated shacks of dirt poor Mississippi, its denizens generally given to speech immersed in hillbilly colloquialism. But while the film is a satire of setting and some of its more recognizable cliches, it is not only cautious not to make fun of and alienate its constituency, it is actually more endearing because of the reverence to the culture and heritage where it's due, and devastatingly clever in its denouncement of that culture and heritage which is not worthy of respect. A consistent presence of music--spiritual, bluegrass, folk music--could be played for chuckles, so asynchronous with our "modern musical tastes"; but instead O Brother, Where Art Thou? devotes its attention to the songs from the South, music which is uplifting and exciting. It's no wonder that the soundtrack to O Brother, Where Art Thou? was such a hit when the film debuted...as in the film, people couldn't get enough of the "Soggy Bottom Boys". A great scene which highlights this--and the theme of religion--is when the escaped find themselves hiding out in a forest, having only recently "R-U-N-N-O-F-T" from the police, only to discover the sudden presence of a group of Baptists, singing a song of praise and salvation, making their way to the water. The skeptic Everett sneers at the idea of what he calls "superstition", but the simple Delmar races toward the minister, is dipped in the lake, and emerges beaming with a kind of peaceful grace; the particular treatment of this scene is really a testament to the Coen Brothers signature style and craftsmanship. In the hands of another, this scene might have been played to condescend to the idea that faith saves, or it might have slipped into an overly somber moment. Delmar has--by this point--already established himself as the weakest mental link in the chain gang alumni, but after his transformation, he speaks with an assurance of his salvation, not from any superstitious delusion, but of faith, pure and simple. The benevolence of faith and the mercy of music is contrasted with the political climate a little more than a year before the next major election, the two contenders for governor fighting a mudslinging battle, employing any kind of tactic to get the upper hand. The politics--which amounts to little more than a dog and pony show, or "little man and broom" show, as the case may be--is really no different than it is today. And like Everett, we may get caught up in the swell of the storm, but frankly, these blowhards are not really a part of our lives, they are just doing what politicians do best: trying to get elected. O Brother, Where Art Thou? is, itself, a kind of "crossroads" movie, an early example of a digital intermediate finishing process being used for the whole film, ironically giving the movie the appearance of a relic from a bygone era. O Brother, Where Art Thou? remains a perennial household favorite, and you'll be challenged not to crack a smile or tap your feet at almost every turn.
Recommended for: Fans of a charming tale of a group of likable ne'er-do-wells on an adventure through the Depression Era South, full of moments of uproarious comedy and even thought-provoking assessments of moral fiber and integrity, with a solid assortment of music that recalls why the blues and spirituals are at the heart of modern music.