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The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018)

I am a fan of the Coen Brothers. I think they are, perhaps, the best American filmmakers working today. Their canon is littered with westerns, throw-backs, thrillers, and strange comedies. They are not a flavor for everyone. But I have been a fan of theirs since I saw O Brother Where Art Thou? in theaters in 2000. Since then I have travelled their entire catalogue, with, admittedly mixed results. I am not a fan of all of their work: A Serious Man (2009) still confounds me; I was not impressed with Hail Caesar! (2016); but they have recorded more hits than misses in my book.

When it was announced that they were working on an anthology film for Netflix, I was very excited. When I read that said anthology would be a return to the western genre, I was nearly jumping with glee.

If you're reading this, I assume you care what I think. Read on, dear reader, and discover.

I. American Icons

The Coens are excellent filmmakers. They have worked with the industry's best cinematographers and art departments to create intricate, detailed, gorgeous feasts for the eyes across their oeuvre. The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018) is no different. Bruno Delbonnel's eye for shot comp and camera movement keep the images crisp and pretty. Between his camera and the Coens' editing, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is definitely a gorgeous movie to look at. Mary Zophres' costumes are a joy to behold, especially in the first installment, where Buster and the The Kid are decked out in Golden-Age western throwback costumes, replete with three-gallon hats, ornately designed chaps, as well as the intricately designed cowboy shirts. Each character has a distinct look, and their costumes help tell their story as much as the performance and dialogue. Jess Conchor's production design features some brilliantly mad-cap sets that you might only find in a Coen brothers' nightmare. Underscoring it all is the eerie, beautiful work of frequent Coen collaborator Carter Burwell. His score finds the thread of each short and wonderfully accompanies the drama and humor in each.

You could turn off the sound, and just about get the entire story of each short.

But then you'd be turning off the Coens' script, and that'd be a shame. The characters in this film rattle off the Coens' trademark erudite, mile-a-minute, nigh-Shakespearean prose nimbly. Each actor knows what kind of movie they are in, a special Coen brothers reality that is neither entirely realism nor altogether magical realism. Tim Blake Nelson, Tom Waits, and Stephen Root are stand outs, for their comfortability in the Coens' wheelhouse, and their ability to sell ridiculous characters as lived-in souls.

II. The Anthology

I am glad that the anthology is having a moment in the sun. Both TV shows and movies have been discovering the storytelling possibilities inherent in a collection of tales rather than a single story. I have aways been partial to short stories, and am glad to see the Coens take up the idea. They have made shorts as parts of other anthology films before, but have never actually done a collection composed entirely of their own stories.

With The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the Coens have served up a collection of short films that seem to tackle the major themes of the American western: the gunslinger's ballad, the bank robber's lament, a dark tale of survival, the tale of an old gold rusher, the wagon train romance, and the story of a stage-coach racing to its destination.

Of course, when you collect a series of stories, not all of them are going to be winners. I wouldn't say that there is a downright awful entry here, but there are others that shine far brighter than their fellows. I will break down each "chapter" in this movie below.

III. "The Ballad of Buster Scruggs"


This first short is probably the collection's finest, and it rarely sores this high again.

Tim Blake Nelson is the titular singing gunslinger, and proves exactly why he seemingly always gets a call from the Coens. He knows how to sell their dialogue, and make their characters work. His ridiculous singing cowboy is a lot of fun to watch: whether he is wasting a canteen's worth of hombres with his pistoleering, or leading an entire saloon in an impromptu musical number, after hilariously dispatching a would-be assassin. And Nelson is game to sing the three musical numbers that are thrown his way. His ballad with Willie Watson's The Kid is something I have been listening to on repeat for the past few days.

"The Ballad of Buster Scruggs" is a wonderful celebration and indictment of the American West. Scruggs is a fancy-talking, tune-singing, guitar-plucking gunslinger. His violence is tempered by Nelson's easy-going demeanor and silvered tongue. The tragedy of the gunfighter is not lost here, as The Kid strolls into town and uses some of Scruggs' own tricks against him.

IV. "Near Algodones"

"Near Algodones" is the story of a stick-up man played by James Franco. It's a quick little tale of a bank robbery gone wrong. The imagery of the bank stuck in nowhere, with a loony teller played by Stephen Root, and a lonesome hanging tree is beautiful, even if the short feels incomplete.

I wanted more than this short had to offer.

V. "Meal Ticket"

"Meal Ticket" is my other stand out. Liam Neeson and Harry Melling tell the story of a pair of traveling entertainers that is tragic and twisted. It is told almost entirely in the monologues of Melling (he is a legless, armless entertainer who performs canned speeches and monologues from Shakespeare, American poets, and famous political speeches) and a bawdy song sung by Neeson (the handler, who drives the horses and collects the funds at the end of the performances) round a camp fire: there is little dialogue between the two other than that, and it makes for long stretches of silence that tell more than any dialogue ever could.

Each actor is tasked with telling the story with facial expressions and gesture, and they are both suited to it. Melling's monologues are initially presented with an air of magic and uniqueness. As Neeson makes the round to collect donations, he comes back with a hat full of coins and notes. But the film shows each successive performance losing some of its magic: Melling is feeling the monotony, and the crowds are dwindling. Neeson's character, already a man seeming past his prime, begins to buckle under the weight of a failing act and a life on the road.

If "The Ballad of Buster Scruggs" is a romanticized story about the American gunslinger, then "Meal Ticket" is a dark story about the dark lengths men will go to survive in the American west. "Meal Ticket" is the Coens at their darkest. It is a terrible, ugly little nugget of storytelling. I liked it a lot.

VI. All Gold Canyon

Tom Waits plays an ancient gold rusher, who stumbles on a picturesque valley. And there's gold in them there hills.

The most fascinating element of this story is the way that valley is shot: it is beautiful, with stunning color and bursting light. It is a veritable heaven on earth. And the gold rusher can see none of it. He has gold in his eyes, and misses the beauty all around him. The wildlife flees upon his arrival, and settles back upon his leaving. It's an interesting theme to think on: the majesty of nature exists without us, and would carry on were we never to come back. Makes one think about gold, real and metaphorical, and value and human greed. And what we miss when we are blinded by it. When we devote our lives to it.

I'm partial to this short because I'm a fan of Tom Waits and his manic mumblings.

VII. The Gal Who Got Rattled

This is the Coens' take on the wagon train romance. It's the story of a woman in-over-her-head on a  wagon train headed to Oregon. She is forced to make decisions that will have long-term ramifications.

Zoe Kazan is great, and she makes Alice feel alive and tragic. The story hinges on her plight: she has no agency in the world, until the end of the short. Her final act is chilling at first, but also an act of power-taking from a woman who has been afforded none.

The short features a thrilling shoot out between an Indian war party and the grizzled wagon train leader, a sweet romance between Alice and Billy (the wagon train's second in command), and some truly beautiful, sweeping vistas.

VIII. The Mortal Remains

This is, more or less, a single-set scene between five travelers on a stage coach, roaring through the night.

It is an interesting meditation on the nature of humanity, and how we face death. The Coens prove that they can, even cramped in the confines of a single stage coach, tell a compelling story and explore interesting ideas with solidly written dialogue.

Props to the lighting design, that first drenches everyone in a golden yellow light, and slowly transitions to the deep blue, as the sun sets outside the wagon.

IX. Should You See It?

The Coens make difficult films. At their best, they offer us an absurd blend of dark humor and tense drama. At their worst (and so many filmmakers can only aspire to achieve the WORST of the Coen brothers) their films are hard to parse, and well-nigh nonsensical. They have proven their bonafides as American filmmaking icons, and have bought my viewership. You might not be a fan. I'll say this: The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is not likely to convert newbies to the Coens' wavelength, but, if, like me, you are already there, consider this charmingly strange anthology worthy of your time.


Miscellany

- Each short is based short stories written over 25 years of the Coens' career. They did not intend to do anything with them, but decided to produce them as an anthology for Netflix.
- In the first short, Buster sits at a poker game. He is forced to play the hand that was abandoned by the previous player. It is a pair of eights and a pair of aces. This is known as "the Dead Man's Hand," and was, reportedly, the last hand that Wild Bill Hickock possessed before he was shot and killed at a poker table.
- This is the first Coen film shot digitally. It is also their longest film, at 132 minutes.
- Harry Melling, the performer in "Meal Ticket," first starred in the Harry Potter films as Dudley Dursley.

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