In the opening scene of Barton Fink, there’s a play put on by some New Yorkers about some guys selling fish or something, and the first thing I thought about was “who wants to see a play about some fish?” And the second thing I thought was “Geez, it’s just like those Cohan boys to make fun of simple fisher-folk. I bet they all die in the end, too.” (But I fell asleep before the end so I didn’t find out.)

Anyway, that just goes to show you about Joe and Ethan Cohan: they really suck as movie-makers. I mean, really, really suck. Over their five-film career, they have ran the gamet from stupid bar-room movies (Blood Simple) to stupid desert comedies (Raising Arizona) to idiotic hat films (Miller’s Crossing) to movies about bowling, hoola-hoops and cereal killers (The Big Lebowski, The Hudsucker Proxy and No Country for Old Men, respectfully), and you would think that with all that experience, their movies would be better, but they’re not. They’re all just crappy and despite the variety, all the same.

Let me adjudicate: their cinematography — by the brothers themselves under the pseudonym “Roger Deakins” — is decidedly third rate: it’s as flat and uninviting as a tranny hooker (not that this reviewer knows anything at all about tranny hookers). And whoever thought it was a good idea to let Carter Burwell write the music for all four movies? It makes me question Joe and Ethan’s judgment right alongside their talent.

But the heart of the matter is, the brothers just can’t direct their way out of a paper bag. They have no sense of pacing, their movies either go at a walk (and not fast like a race-walker walks, either, but more like a slow, arthritic, old-lady walk) or gallops along like a thoroughbred on steroids. There’s just no in between. And don’t get me started on their work — or lack of it, haha — with actors. To site just one horrid example, in Raising Arizona they made the normally sophisticated, erudite Nicholas Cage look like a hick, and Holly Hunter appear as if she were from the South. Now that’s bad directing!

To some it up, though I’ve seen all eight of their films — and three of their rock videos — I haven’t seen one thing I thought was worth the price of tea in China. But I will persist, gentile reader, because it is my mission to sacrifice myself for the sake of your knowledge and enjoyment. If you see the words “A Joe and Ethan Cohan Joint” on a movie trailer, run to the ticket window to get your money back.

I’m just glad that they haven’t won any Oscars!

(Note: this is an entry in the Bizarro Days blogathon over at Lazy Eye Theater. What? You thought I really wrote like this? Don’t answer that . . .)

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