Day 1: The Man Who Wasn't There

THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE (2001)
Directed by Joel (and Ethan) Coen
Starring: Billy Bob Thornton, Francis McDormand, James Gandolfini, Tony Shaloub

As I write this, the Coen Brothers have, in the eyes of many reviewers, revitalized the Western genre with their remake of True Grit.  Of course, Westerns have been a hard sell in Hollywood as of late.  So I'm wondering how hard of a sell it was for the Coens in their pre-Oscar-winning days to convince backers to finance a black-and-white film noir - another genre that has been out of favor with modern audiences for some time.

The story concerns a barber named Ed Crane (Thornton) who leads the most boring life imaginable.  That is, until he gets the feeling that his wife Doris (McDormand) is having an affair with her boss, Big Dave Brewster (Gandolfini).  At the same time, a strange man appears talking about some new-fangled business known as "dry cleaning."  Intrigued, Ed decides to take him up on the offer.  But to get the money, he has to do something this normally passive and less than verbose barber wouldn't normally do: blackmail.  Thus begins a strange journey where everything Ed touches turns to mud, so to speak. Doris is framed for murder, a slick-talking lawyer (Shaloub) is brought in to distort the truth and what started as simple revenge ends up coming all back to get Ed Crane in the end.

Whenever an established Hollywood director tries to resurrect a long-forgotten genre, one of two things generally happens: if he fails, everyone says that he did no research whatsoever and/or he took the tried and true idioms of said genre and put a "modern" spin on them.  Or, he could succeed and be called a genius.  The Coens succeed in a big way here.  While the Ed Crane is not the hard-bitten detective protagonist of The Maltese Falcon or The Big Sleep, he is the man in the wrong place at the wrong time for the wrong reasons, as in Double Indemnity.  However, instead of letting his emotions get the better of him, Ed Crane is downright stoic, never letting on that he is feeling anything.  Thornton's downplayed performance and deadpan narration let us know the wheels upstairs are turning, but Crane remains even-keeled; almost cold.

The film is, as you might have guessed, shot entirely in black and white, as it should be.  Film noir is not a genre that lends itself well to color (with Chinatown, being the possible exception) and there's a reason.  The black and white photography (beautifully shot by Roger Deakins) adds a certain amount of weight and mood to the film that would have otherwise have been lacking.  Also, having been called "the actor's medium," black and white helps the performances of the actors shine forth.  Even an extra with one line can look like a polished thespian if he's lit properly.

The Coens certainly did their homework for this film, though their trademark wit is there to keep things from getting too heavy.  It comes off more as a love letter to film noir than an actualy film noir itself - made by fans, for fans.  If you're a fan, it's worth checking out.