Critical detachment is difficult when you’re predisposed to like something, and I like Coen Brothers movies. A lot. I own every one of them except Burn After Reading, and I will probably get a copy of that eventually. I even own The Ladykillers, which is the subject of this review. And because I am one of their biggest fans, I come into their films ever hopeful, like a Woody Allen junkie, burned beyond recognition too many times before.
Ok. So it’s not that bad. The brothers haven’t had as long a string of mediocre fare as the Wood Man. But The Ladykillers was judged in some circles as sad evidence of such, as another sign that they’d lost their way. First came Intolerable Cruelty, the first film they didn’t write, and now a remake, for God’s sake. And a remake of a bone-fide classic of British comedy no less. Alexander Mackendrick’s The Lady Killers is considered the finest of the comedies produced by the Ealing studios, complete with a dream cast of Alec Guinness, Herbert Lom and Peter Sellers.
Like the original, the remake considers a pack of criminals who invade a little old lady’s house intent on using it as a base of operations for their nefarious schemes. But in Mackendrick’s version, the boys were London bank robbers; here, they are robbing a casino on the Mississippi River, and that change of locale is the first problem. In 2000’s runaway success O Brother, 
Where Art Thou?, also set in Mississippi, the brothers by and large succeed in walking a fine satiric line: they used the rural Southern clichés gently, and with a certain measure of respect.
In Ladykillers, the satire is shrill and over-the-top. As the old lady, Irma P. Hall is every black, matronly stereotype rolled into one, a kind of Southern Weezy Jefferson only without the George. Instead, we get Tom Hanks’ Professor G.H. Dorr, the ring-leader of the criminal gang. It’s tempting to simply say he’s no Alec Guinness and leave it at that, but in point of fact he is so bad that one has to wonder what everyone was thinking. Dressed in a Colonel Sanders suit and cravat — did no one tell costume designer Mary Zophres that nobody wears those things any more? — he snivels and snorts his way around the set like there is no tomorrow.
Not much better is Marlon Wayans as Gawain MacSam, a petty hip-hop criminal, or Ryan Hurst’s Lump Hudson, the dumbest football jock ever to stalk the rural South. They are 
asked to play one-note types with all the depth of a saucer of water. Of the entire cast, only J.K. Simmons as Garth Pancake and Tzi Ma as The General acquit themselves well. Simmons’ running gag involving irritable bowel syndrome culminates in the film’s funniest bit as he explains IBS to a disgusted MacSam. He fondly recalls meeting his wife at an IBS symposium. “We are an irritable bowel couple,” he explains.
The Ladykillers is not without its pleasures, especially for people well-versed in the brothers’ style: the baroque production design and witty framing are pure Joel and Ethan, as is the bleak, nihilistic way all the plans come to nought in the end. And indeed, with a shift in tone, and a largely different cast, this coulda’ been a contender. As it is, it will remain minor Coen, a rest-stop between masterpieces like Fargo, Barton Fink and No Country for Old Men.
Note: This was originally written for Ibe Tolis’ Counting Down the Zeroes, where it may still appear.
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I own this basically for the same reason. I love all things Coen. This just didn’t work as well as their others. Intolerable Cruelty didn’t either. My wife and I came to the conclusion they need to stick with their own material from here on out.
Yeah, that’s what I thought at first as well. But with this one, it seems their usual impeccable sense of tone and how far to go without going over the top deserted them. Perhaps it all began with the horrible miscasting of Hanks …
Hey…take the Woody Allen jokes outside….
Randy
Joke? JOKES? The Wood Man is no laughing matter. Any more.
I can’t really defend this movie too strenuously — or Intolerable Cruelty, which I would say is their “worst” — but I did like it more than you, and I thought one of the best things about it was Hanks. That’s right…Hanks! He’s incredibly over-the-top, but in a much more interesting way than everyone else. He’s strange and funny, and I loved the Edgar Allan Poe stuff. Of course people don’t dress like that anymore: that’s the point! He was born in the wrong decade, or century. That’s what his character is, along with being devious and all that.
Plus, there are some absolutely beautiful shots in this film. There’s a shot of Hanks on the bridge, near the end (before he gets conked on the head) that is really stunning. Roger Deakins FTW.
I know that Hanks was supposed to be over the top, but it didn’t work for me. You’re right about one thing, though: he was surely weird.
Actually, you’re right about another: there were some stunning visuals. Even when the source material isn’t the best, they have impeccable framing and compositional sensibilities. And Deakins, of course, is the best.
I had the odd fortune to watch this before catching the original. What was labored and slouchy here proved to be something like perfection in its original guise, which was heartening, because I generally find the Ealing films far too cutesy. I think it’s worth pointing out vis a vis the costuming that as the original presented a rogue’s gallery that was a compendium of British types, from Herbert Lom’s pinstriped sharpie to Sellers’ Cockney spiv to Guinness’ shifty faux-savant, up against the darling little old granny, so it was appropriate to populate the remake with some common seedy American types. Southern colonel dress and a retro black mammy make sense in such a set-up, which hinges on a clash of cliches. It’s just the over-loudness of the execution that hurts it. It badly lacked was the quiet menace of the Mackendrick film, which gave the original its punch, especially in Guinness’ freaky characterization; Hanks was far too sane and self-satisfied. But then, I’m no particularly big fan of the Coens, and prefer them when in funny mode over pretentious.
About the type thing: yeah, I missed that connection. It’s been so long since I saw the original, that I barely remember the plot, much less the characterizations.
This and The Hudsucker Proxy are the only two Coen films (aside from A Serious Man) that I haven’t seen. I really kind of don’t even want to watch this one – I love both the Coens and the original Ladykillers too much. I guess I’ll have to see it sometime just for the sake of completeness.
Jandy, I like The Hudsucker Proxy better than this one, there’s something about Paul Newman playing comic-dastardly that tickles my fancy, but it’s not everyone’s cup of tea either.
But, as you say, completeness is important.