Burn After Reading

Coen Brothers
2008

The usual criticism leveled at the brothers Coen is that their slick cinema lacks "heart." Yet even at their most insect-unfeeling they manage to keep things interesting by lacing their pictures with masterful filmmaking gestures and cartoonishly exaggerated characters. This time around the Coens neglect their usually colorful characterizations with an unconvincingly alcoholic John Malkovich ranting ceaselessly in his distinctive diction, Tilda Swinton scowling about as a British ice queen, and Brad Pitt hamming it up as a one-note gym rat boob. Also, the conceit that Frances McDormand's lovelorn character is willing to risk life and limb for fake tits and a tummy tuck is preposterous. The only characters that really get the royal (read proper) treatment are George Clooney's philandering internet Cassanova and puppy-dog-eyed saddie Richard Jenkins. The biggest disappointment comes from the impression that a sendup of the flourishing National Security/CIA genre seems like the ripest of plums - something Carter Burwell's over the top score taps into nicely. The D.C. milieu makes a great backdrop for the action with its crowded urban parks and gorgeous townhouses, and suggests a high stakes game of power and wealth even if its a mirage. The only part of this generally unremarkable film the Coens nail are the two briefings (one of which acts as a coda) to a CIA bigwig (played perfectly by J.K. Simmons). These absurdist meetings are examples of the brothers at the top of their game - its a shame it couldn't carry over to the rest of the picture.