Loading ...Movie Review - The Man Who Wasn’t There
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2001 / 116 Minutes / R
Reviewed by Dale Nauertz
Ed Crane is “The Man Who Wasn’t There”. People he met that same day cannot remember him. His in-laws are even having a little trouble with it. Ed is so forgettable, in fact, that he has become accustomed to that blank stare he gets as people attempt to recognize him. At one point, the police who have already come to the shop to tell him that his wife is in prison arrive to tell him more bad news….and even they can’t place him by face.
But in the performance of his life, Billy Bob Thornton is going to make sure that you don’t forget Ed Crane, one of the most original cinematic characters in recent memory.
Ed doesn’t talk much. He doesn’t cotton to talking much. He has philosophical ideas about hair. He is the master of the art of the haircut. And when a man with a bad toupee enters his shop and tells him about a way to make a load of bread in the dry cleaning business, Ed starts to thinking. The problems start right there, since Ed is obviously a man who is not that good at thinking and not that accustomed to it. He rolls through life, taking whatever comes his way. When his idea about getting into the dry cleaning business suddenly involves blackmail, murder and teenage girls with a knack for the piano, Ed barely blinks an eyelid.
He barely lets it register in his infinitely calm face. He just constantly smokes his cigarettes (there is perhaps one scene, maybe even two, where a cigarette is not smoldering between his lips), says as little as possible, and lets life wash over him, unconcerned about where it might be taking him.
“The Man Who Wasn’t There” is the sort of film noir that might be well-charted territory. We all expect the elements: crimes going horribly wrong, unexpected developments, twists and serpentine turns, dames who are not quite saints, cheated husbands and the like. These elements have been a staple of cinema since time out of mind. It is the genius of the Coen brothers that they can find a fresh slant to this material, that they can make it fresh. The Coens seem to love cliches almost as much as they love tearing them inside out and turning them on their head.
The Coens are masters of a film like this. This movie takes them back to the sort of film they usually win the most raves for: films involving shady characters and crimes that go horribly awry. “Blood Simple” is their best previous example of this. “Fargo” is also a story cut from this cloth. They mined aspects of this for humor to classic effect in “The Big Lebowski”. At first, you may not be excited to hear about the movie. Even though it doesn’t involve a kidnapping, it still has most of the Coen hallmarks. But none of their other films have been centered around a character quite like Ed. No other film noir has either. Ed Crane is a glorious, simple and fascinating creation in the hands of the Coens and with the pulse of Billy Bob Thornton pounding inside him. And he is what elevates this film to such a distinctive plateau.
The film’s pacing is the key to its fabulous success. As in “The Big Lebowski”, the film is told through the eyes of the main character and shares most of his aspects. In “Lebowski”, The Dude was a lazy man and his story looked lazy and as though it added up to nothing, until later inspection, in which you find that its narrative is genius and it actually does tell a tight story after all, as seen from The Dude’s skewed perspective. You get Ed’s side of the story in “The Man Who Wasn’t There”, and therefore the film takes the same calm, laconic approach that Ed takes to his own life. It is a great way to tell a story, and it works magnificently.
Aside from the script and the remarkable direction, high kudos must go to the cinematography of Roger Deakins. Through a gorgeous use of black and white photography, he has easily created the most beautiful and sumptuous film of the year. There is a lyrical beauty to every street corner, to Ed’s barber pole, to the hairdos that Ed’s attention remains drawn to throughout the film. Dennis Gassner’s production design is also worthy of notice. He invents this world down to the last fallen hair from Ed’s barber chair. My God, this is a gorgeous film.
Then, the acting. I have already mentioned Thornton, but I don’t believe I have mentioned him enough. I always knew that the man was going to wow me one of these days, and he has done it at last. He creates Ed basically out of nothing. His character is alive and kicking from the first frame to the last, and we come to know him and understand him (as well as a man like Ed can be understood) yet he really hasn’t got that many lines and he smokes like a chimney. But he creates one of the most spellbinding performances of the year. Ed is a fabulous enigma, and it is a lot of fun spending two hours trying to figure him out. Frances McDormand is good in her role, but not much was required of her. She fills the character out nicely, however, and gives her subtle shading and nuances that a lesser actress would not.
The scene where she drinks too much at an in-law’s wedding reception is a comedic highlight of the film. I also like what Michael Badalucco does with the role of the ever-talking barber Frank. But one of the real standouts here is Tony Shalhoub. Oh, Tony Shalhoub! When will your greatness be recognized? If this movie doesn’t do it, then nothing will. He is a fast talking, big city lawyer named Freddy Riedenschieder who comes to defend several characters in the film. Freddy is, in fact, the best lawyer money can buy, and a man who refuses to lose a case, no matter what. “I litigate, I don’t capitulate!” I also liked the word of Scarlett Johanssen as Birdy, the piano prodigy, James Gandolfini as “Big” Dave Jenkins, Katherine Borowitz as his strange and quiet wife, and Jon Polito as the idea man in the bad rug.
It’s rare that a film can appear both subtle and quiet and still feel this rambunctious and fresh, but the Coens have achieved that rare alchemy in “The Man Who Wasn’t There” (which, by the way, is a marvelous title). A film this exuberant just goes to show you how excruciatingly cookie cutter most modern films are, and why I left so many of them with a glum expression.
“The Man Who Wasn’t There” is a salve for those poor souls like me, who have too often left the theater wishing for something more. “The Man Who Wasn’t There” delivers in ways you hadn’t even thought of. That is its brilliance.
