Review: "Burn after Reading" by Joel and Ethan Coen

Ali and I saw the Coen brothers' "Burn after Reading" last Thursday night in the open-air cinema at Campo San Polo. The venue was filled to capacity - that being about 700 people - of which I'd be interested to know how many were Italian and how many Venetian residents. The majority of films in the competition are only shown for two days (some for three days) and "Burn after Reading" had already been shown the previous night, to open the festival, so this was the last opportunity to see it until release which will happen in the US in a couple of weeks. Accordingly there was a long long line of people waiting for tickets, but that line could be avoided by buying an abbonamento for 6 tickets (total price 30 euros). The line had started forming about 6pm for the 7.30 opening of the ticket office to the 9pm film screening, so the abbonamento was a great idea and we could have a pizza between getting the ticket and watching the film.

The film centres around Brad Pitt and Frances McDormand who work in a gym as an airhead sports-junky personal trainer and single, body-image obsessed public relations officer, respectively. Things go wrong for the two when they discover the memoirs of ex-CIA agent Osbourne Cox (John Malkovich, disturbing as ever) and see that as the way to money and elective surgery. Well, "things go wrong" is a subjective concept in a Coen Brothers' film, since being in the film in the first place means your character will probably end up dead, like the statistically ill-fated Star Trek ensign. The two attempt to blackmail the CIA agent, then resort to even more desperate and hilarious gambits as things go steadily pearshaped. Frances McDormand is great as the Coens' archetypal protagonist, singlemindedly pursuing her objective of destructive surgery. Brad Pitt owns the screen with pure charisma, playing the airhead with panache and boundful energy.

A dash of "Intolerable Cruelty" is brought about with the converging plotline of Malkovich, his adulterous, bitchy GP wife (Tilda Swinton), a compulsively-cheating retired secret service agent (George Clooney) with whom Swinton is having the affair, and his wife who writes childrens' books (Elizabeth Marvel) - her month-long book tour allows Clooney's character plenty of time for infidelity. Divorces, fights, lawyers and financial double-crosses ensue in the hilarious yet disturbing Coens' style.

The Coens' film noir leaves me always thinking about guilt, blame, circumstance - there's usually an innocent or two in the wrong place at the wrong time. Like an experiment in natural selection - the innocent, the compulsive, the corrupted all go without judgement. All of that is balanced by the Coens' skill in crafting a compelling and at times hilarious story. Even if you are left emotionally destroyed, unable to sleep and cogitating pointlessly, you are still warmed by the experience of watching such artful filmmakers do what they do best.

There is one more external narrative to the film, which I won't go into. You'll find out about it when you see it - and enjoy it.