Review: Miller's Crossing (1990)

The Coen Brothers' third film does what a great Coen Brothers film should always do: Take a genre (this time gangster films), deconstruct it with a sardonic and dry wit, only to then spin around and become one of the great entries in the very genre it's deconstructing.

For one thing, one never gets the sense during the course of this film that the Coen's are intentionally doing a mean spirited riff, but rather the kind of riff/deconstruction best done by lovers of the very same hard boiled, laconic genre, in order to play with it's conventions and limitations, and use them to enhance it's strengths as a cinematic style.

The screenplay, as always, is finely crafted, just like their direction. In many ways though, it's the most low key film of theirs I've seen so far. Instead of the broad characters of, say, Fargo, O Brother Where Art Thou? or Raising Arizona, nor does it have the stark desolation of No Country for Old Men, nor the hyper surreal fever dream aura of Barton Fink. Instead, it takes a genre known for often harboring extreme characters, and instead distills it to it's bare bones, creating a world where under reactions are the norm, and almost everyone goes about their business with this dry sense of propriety. There's very little fowl language, instead preferring to use the special brew of euphemisms and metaphors often found in the most stereotypical 30s-40s mobster pot boiler films. In fact, in many ways, this film feels like it was made back in the 1930s, with the camera work and visual aesthetic coolly mimicking it, while still preserving the Coen's trademark visual feeling.

This aura is carried over into the acting performances, with Gabriel Byrne giving Tom Reagan, who smoothly plays two dueling criminal organizations against each other, all so that he can come out on top. Often preferring to speak in a dry, almost apathetic tone, Byrne embodies the classic noir protagonist, and also manages to be quite the deadpan snarker, often dueling out witty observations and quips with the same sense of laid back tone.

Albert Finney and Jon Polito both play great mob bosses, with Finney's Irish-American Leo O'Brannon's burly self-confidence contrasting with Polito's Italian Johnny Caspar's more openly scheming and neurotic mannerisms and his hang up on 'ethics'. Rounding out the cast is a dynamic John Tuturro as the slimy bookie Bernie Bernbaum, who's 'lack of ethics' and open cheating of Caspar sets the plot in motion. A smug snake in every way, Tuturro proves himself one of the great character actors, swinging from smug schemer to pitiful whimpering coward smoothly.

Marcia Gay Harden, the object of Byrne's affections, comes across as a classic noir lady, with her cool dismissal and manipulation fitting right in with classic entries in the genre.

The cinematography by Barry Sonnefield is effective, if supremely understated. The forests are rich and green, with a wonderful autumnal look, while the tired and worn down look of the various city locations contrast nicely.

Carter Burwell's score is also eloquent and effective, preferring to rely on it's central motif, the Irish folk tune 'Lament for Limerick' as the glue to hold the rest of his work together. A simple, vaguely nostalgic and melancholic theme, it fits the film's tone perfectly, as, asides from the dry wit and sarcasm, there's a sense of nostalgia ebbing under the film.

An understated gem with a plot that invites rewatching, Miller's Crossing is possibly the first great Coen Brothers film, as here, the hallmarks of their style have really come into form, only to be further strengthened and built on in their later, more well known works.

5 out of 5 stars.