O Brother, Where Art Thou?

O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Only Joel and Ethan Coen, the fraternal director and producer team behind art-house hits such as The Big Lebowski and Fargo and masters of quirky and ultra-stylish genre subversion, would dare nick the plot line of Homer's Odyssey for a comic picaresque saga about three cons on the run in 1930s Mississippi. Our wandering hero in this case is one Ulysses Everett McGill, a slick-tongued wise guy with a thing about hair pomade (George Clooney, blithely sending up his own dapper image) who talks his chain-gang buddies (Coen-movie regular John Turturro and newcomer Tim Blake Nelson) into lighting out after some buried loot he claims to know of. En route they come up against a prophetic blind man on a railroad truck, a burly, one-eyed baddie (the ever-magnificent John Goodman), a trio of sexy singing ladies, a blues guitarist who's sold his soul to the devil, a brace of crooked politicos on the stump, a manic-depressive bank robber, and--well, you get the idea. Into this, their most relaxed film yet, the Coens have tossed a beguiling ragbag of inconsequential situations, a wealth of looping, left-field dialogue, and a whole stash of gags both verbal and visual. O Brother (the title's lifted from Preston Sturges's classic 1941 comedy Sullivan's Travels) is furthermore graced with glowing, burnished photography from Roger Deakins and a masterly soundtrack from T-Bone Burnett that pays loving homage to American '30s folk styles--blues, gospel, bluegrass, jazz, and more. And just to prove that the brothers haven't lost their knack for bad-taste humor, we get a Ku Klux Klan rally choreographed like a cross between a Nuremberg rally and a Busby Berkeley musical. --Philip Kemp

Director(s): Joel Coen, Roger Deakins
Production: Buena Vista
  Nominated for 2 Oscars. Another 7 wins & 35 nominations.
 
IMDB:
7.8
Metacritic:
69
Rotten Tomatoes:
77%
PG-13 (Parental Guidance Suggested)
Year:
2000
107
$45,150,731
Website
38,226 Views
They have a plan, but not a clue.
Sometimes, you have to lose your way to get back home.

Everett:
Well, it didn't look like a one-horse town, but try finding a decent hair jelly.

Delmar:
Gopher, Everett?

Everett:
And no transmission belt for two weeks, either.

Pete:
They dam that river on the 21st. Today's the 17th.

Everett:
Don't I know it.

Pete:
We got but four days to get to that treasure. After that, it'll be at the bottom of a lake. We ain't gonna make it walkin'.

Everett:
That's right.

Delmar:
Gopher, Everett?

Everett:
But the old tactician's got a plan. For the transportation that is. I don't know how I'm gonna keep my coiffure in order.

Pete:
How's this a plan? How we gonna get a car?

Everett:
[producing a pocket watch] Sell that. I figure it can only have painful association for Wash.

Pete:
[reading] "To Washington Bartholomew Hogwallop, from his loving Cora. Amor Fidel... is."

Everett:
It was in his bureau. I reckon it'll fetch us enough cash for a good used auto-voiture, and a little left over besides.

Delmar:
Whoo! You got some light fingers, Everett. Gopher?

Pete:
You miserable little snake! You stole from my kin!

Everett:
Who was fixin' to betray us.

Pete:
You didn't know that at the time!

Everett:
So I borrowed it until I did know.

Pete:
That don't make no sense!

Everett:
Pete, it's a fool that looks for logic in the chambers of the human heart. [hears a congregation singing nearby] Now, what the hell's that singing?

Delmar:
Appears to be some kind of a... congregation. Care for some gopher?

Everett:
No, thank you, Delmar. A third of a gopher would only arouse my appetite without beddin' her back down.

Delmar:
Oh, you can have the whole thing. Me and Pete already had one. We ran across a whole gopher village.

Everett:
How you doin', son? My name's Everett. These two soggy sons of b*tches are Pete and Delmar. Keep your fingers away from Pete's mouth; he ain't had nothing to eat for 13 years, except prison food, gopher, and a little greasy horse.

Tommy Johnson:
Thanks for the lift, sir. My name's Tommy. Tommy Johnson.

Delmar:
How you doin', Tommy? Say, I haven't seen a house out here for miles. What are you doing out in the middle of nowhere?

Tommy Johnson:
Well, I had to be up at that there crossroads last midnight, to sell my soul to the devil.

Everett:
Well, ain't it a small world, spiritually speaking. Pete and Delmar just been baptized and saved. I guess I'm the only one that remains unaffiliated.

Delmar:
This ain't no laughing matter, Everett.

Everett:
What'd the devil give you for your soul, Tommy?

Tommy Johnson:
Well, he taught me to play this here guitar real good.

Delmar:
Oh, son. For that, you traded your everlasting soul?

Tommy Johnson:
[shrugs] Well, I wasn't usin' it.

Pete:
I've always wondered, what's the devil look like?

Everett:
Well, of course there are all manner of lesser imps and demons, Pete, but the great Satan hisself is red and scaly with a bifurcated tail, and he carries a hay fork.

Tommy Johnson:
Oh, no. No, sir. He's white, as white as you folks, with empty eyes and a big hollow voice. He loves to travel around with a mean old hound. That's right.

Pete:
And he told you to go to Tishomingo?

Tommy Johnson:
Well, no, sir, that was my idea. I heard there's a man down there. He pays folks money to sing into his can. They say he pays extra if you play real good.

Everett:
Tishomingo, huh? How much he pay?

Big Dan Teague:
[approaches Everett and Delmar's table] I don't believe I've seen you boys around here before. Allow me to introduce myself. Name of Daniel Teague. Known in these precincts as Big Dan Teague. Or, to those who are pressed for time, Big Dan, tout court!

Everett:
How you doin', Big Dan? My name is Ulysses Everett McGill. This is my associate, Delmar O'Donnell. I detect like me, you're endowed with the gift of gab.

Big Dan Teague:
I flatter myself that such is the case. In my line of work it's plumb necessary. The one thing you don't want... is air in the conversation.

Everett:
Once again, we find ourselves in agreement. What kind of work do you do, Big Dan?

Big Dan Teague:
Sales, Mr. McGill, sales! And what do I sell? The Truth! Every blessed word of it, from Genesee on down to Revelations. That's right, the word of God, which let me tell you there is damn good money in during these times of woe and want. People are lookin' for answers, and Big Dan sells the only book that's got 'em! And what do you do, you and your tongue-tied friend?

Delmar:
We, uh...

Everett:
Uh, we're adventurers, sir, currently pursuing a certain opportunity, but we're open to others as well.

Big Dan Teague:
I like your style, young man. So I'm gonna propose you a proposition: You cover my bill so I don't have to run back upstairs, get your waitress to wrap your dinner picnic-style, and we shall retire to more private environs, where I will tell you how there are vast amounts of money to be made in the service of God Almighty.

Everett:
Well, why not? If nothing else, I could use some civilized conversation.

Big Dan Teague:
Don't forget your shoebox, friend.

[Big Dan, Everett, and Delmar are having a picnic lunch]

Big Dan Teague:
Thank you, boys, for throwin' in that fricassee. I'm a man of large appetites. Even with lunch under my belt, I was feeling a mite peckish.

Everett:
It's our pleasure, Big Dan.

Big Dan Teague:
Thank you as well for the conversational hiatus. I generally refrain from speech during gustation. There are those who attempt both at the same time. I find it coarse and vulgar. Where were we?

Delmar:
Makin' money in the Lord's service.

Big Dan Teague:
You don't say much friend, but when you do, it's to the point and I salute you for it. Yes, Bible sales. Now, the trade is not a complicated one. There are but two things to learn. One: being where to find a wholesaler. The word of God in bulk, as it were. Two: how to recognize your customer. Who are you dealing with? It's an exercise in psychology, so to speak. And it is that which I propose to give you a lesson in right now. [snaps a branch off a nearby tree]

Everett:
Well, I like to think I'm an astute observer of the human scene, too, Big Dan.

Big Dan Teague:
No doubt, brother. I figured as much back at the restaurant. That's why I invited you all out here for this advanced tutorial. [hits Delmar with the branch]

Everett:
What's goin' on, Big Dan?

Big Dan Teague:
IT'S ALL ABOUT THE MONEY, BOYS! THAT'S IT! [Delmar grab's Big Dan's leg; Big Dan knocks Delmar out with the branch] Gol... durned... MONEY!

Everett:
I don't get it, Big Dan. [Big Dan yells and knocks Everett unconscious with the branch]

Big Dan Teague:
I'll just take your show cards... [pulls a wad of money out of Everett's pocket; Delmar jumps onto Big Dan, but Big Dan swings him around and throws him to the ground] ...and whatever ya got in the hole. [opens the shoebox and is dismayed to see the toad inside] What the...? There ain't nothin' but a damn toad.

Delmar:
No, you don't understand. That's Pete. [Big Dan takes the toad out of the shoebox] Pete...

Big Dan Teague:
You know these things give ya warts? [squashes the toad in his hand, then throws it against the tree] End of lesson. So long, boys. [chuckles mockingly] See ya in the funny papers. Y'all seen the end of Big Dan Teague. [gets in the car and drives away, leaving Everett and Delmar battered on the ground]


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