Imagining an alternate history of the Golden Age of
Hollywood, Joel and Ethan Coen’s latest cinematic treasure, “Hail, Caesar!” observes
a day in the life of studio “fixer” Eddie Mannix.
Though Mannix was a real executive for MGM during the
1950’s, the Coens offer a fictionalized version of
his life. Set in the studio era, the film takes place at a time when Hollywood
suits essentially owned their stars, carefully managing and molding their
performers’ personas to suit the public’s appetites for glitz and glamour.
Mannix’s official title is “head of physical production”
for Capitol Pictures (the same studio that employed the Coen brothers character
Barton Fink), though his actual job is to keep things running smoothly,
preventing any potential scandals from spreading outside of the studio’s
guarded gates. “Hail, Caesar!” pokes fun at Hollywood as much as it honors it,
but it’s first and foremost a celebration of the old movie magic — though
anyone without an appreciation for this specific era of filmmaking may be left
scratching their heads.
As played by
Josh Brolin, Mannix is a brutish man with a good
heart. He’s more than willing to smack those stars around if he thinks it will
help knock some sense into them, but he’s conflicted about it. When we catch up
with Mannix, he’s having a crisis of faith, both in
his religion as a devout Catholic, and in his career, where he finds himself
losing sight of the value in such a frivolous business. He’s also fielding a
lucrative job offer from the Lockheed aviation company, and it’s one of the
film’s best underlying jokes that a job within the military industrial complex
sounds appealing to Mannix for the relative
relaxation and stress-free life it would offer.
As Mannix hops from set to set putting out fires, his visits
to the studio’s soundstages provide the Coens with an
excuse to stage elaborate film recreations, from water ballets to cheesy
westerns and sailor musicals, changing aspect ratios and shuffling through
various genres with obvious glee; “Hail, Caesar!” is a cinephile
heaven. The title picture, a biblical epic whose full title is “Hail, Caesar: A
Story of the Christ,” is the focus of the extremely loose plot, which involves
the kidnapping of the film’s star, Baird Whitlock (an amiably doltish George
Clooney), by a mysterious group who call themselves “The Future.” The film’s
trailers emphasized this plot, advertising a madcap caper in the vein of a
Hollywood-set “Ocean’s 11,” but this line is entirely secondary.
Aside from
Brolin and Clooney, the film is chock full of performers clearly having the
time of their lives: Scarlett Johansson appears as a not-so-sweet Esther
Williams-esque starlet; Channing Tatum in Gene Kelly
mode for an extended song-and-dance number; Frances McDormand
as a no-nonsense editor who demonstrates the dangers of working with a Moviola; Ralph Fiennes as a frustrated director; and Tilda
Swinton in a dual role as Hedda Hopper-like rival
gossip columnists who just happen to be twin sisters. But it’s Alden Ehrenreich
who walks off with the movie as Hobie Doyle, the
drawling young star of goofy westerns who’s been tapped by the studio to
transition into more serious dramatic roles. Ehrenreich caught my attention
back in 2013 with a small role in the great gothic thriller, “Stoker,” and the
lead in the not-so-great supernatural “Beautiful Creatures,” and it’s about
time someone capitalized on his talents.
Beautifully
shot by the masterful Roger Deakins, it’s a joy to
see Hollywood Golden Age filtered through his impeccably composed lens.
Occasionally the computer-assisted special effects distract from the overall
retro design of the film, and I couldn’t help wishing the filmmakers had kept
to period-appropriate methods to achieve them.
“Hail Caesar!” is a trifle: it doesn’t add up
to much, but it’s always a joy to watch — particularly in the standalone film
sequences. There’s an exuberance to these scenes that’s somewhat lacking in the
story the Coens have cobbled together to support
them, though as with many of the Coen’s films, I suspect the disjointedness will
improve with repeat viewings.
Mannix’s doubts about career and religion call to mind the
existential angst and ennui that powered “Inside Llewyn
Davis” and “A Serious Man” (Mannix often seems like a
Catholic counterpoint to that film’s Job-like Jewish protagonist). Faith has
always been a subject that preoccupies the brothers, and Eddie Mannix is another in a long line of Coen heroes whose
earnest search for meaning in an absurd and indifferent world only leads to
trouble. But with “Hail, Caesar!” the brothers suggest that the best place to
conclude that search is often at the movies.
This article appears in Feb 10-16, 2016.
