O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000)

 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) – J. & E. Coen 

One of the Coen Brothers’ most accessible films that rises on the strength of its rootsy Depression-era setting and especially music (the soundtrack went platinum).  Ironic, I suppose, because the film takes its title from the film that director Joel McCrea wants to make (in Sullivan’s Travels, 1941) when he decides to give up commercial filmmaking to make something more serious (i.e., about the struggles of the common man).  But I guess that theme is somewhere buried in there along with the Coens’ usual assortment of oddities, anecdotes, references, and jokes!  This time, the plot is also held together by its links to Homer’s The Odyssey and the homeward journey of its hero (and/or to The Wizard of Oz and its similar trek). George Clooney, Tim Blake Nelson, and John Turturro play three convicts who break loose from a chain gang and then aim to head to George Clooney’s home to get their hands on the proceeds from a bank robbery that he has hidden there, before the TVA floods the whole place.  Along the way, they meet various characters who may echo Homer – John Goodman as a one-eyed Bible Salesman, for example – and a variety of time-period relevant events (a KKK rally, for example).  They are always followed by a demonic sheriff in mirror shades. They meet gangster George BabyFace Nelson (Michael Badalucco). They also meet Tommy Johnson (Chris Thomas King) who may or may not have sold his soul to the Devil in exchange for guitar-playing prowess – which brings us back to the music.  At one point in their journey, the boys stumble into a Sun Records styled recording studio and radio station where they fortuitously record a version of “Man of Constant Sorrow” which becomes an unlikely hit for their pseudonym The Soggy Bottom Boys (a plot device that returns later to salvage, well, everything). Clooney didn’t do his own singing but apart from that his presence here was really a revelation (back in 2000) – he is truly funny as the fast-talking but ridiculous Ulysses Everett McGill (that name!).  Nelson and Turturro are no slouches either and the whole thing ambles along so amiably with its rollicking and wistful accompaniment that it leaves you with a warm feeling that seems rarely the Coens’ goal. I’m glad I revisited it.