Drive-Away Dolls

Funny enough, Drive-Away Dolls an utterly enjoyable cinematic experience, an eventful eroticism-drenched woman-empowerment B-movie one may say. You may be surprised how much this style has been missed in the Coen Brothers workout. You know: all that capricious blah blah blah mildly delicious craziness shaped last time keenly on ‘Burn After Reading (or maybe -‘Hail, Caesar!)- &, is merrily ironically wearing out all & any of its harm-free political correctness & decorum.

But it’s only one brother this time, to be clear — Ethan Coen in the director’s chair without Joel and directing Tricia Cooke with screenwriting. Using his instincts, and not constraining himself to dull academic intricacies, the pair forges a sincere road picture that harmonizes between the crime underbelly of ‘Fargo,’ (but do not anticipate dark or cold in the mass of sunlight “Dolls”) and the absurd crime comedy of “Burn After Reading.”

So, the first surprise, they are two best mates aiming a long last road trip to Tallahassee (the pit itself is a rather rude, funny device), escaping in a new clichéd picture which at once playful like a gritty indie film from the early ‘90s only less painful and with ample dildos, lots of dildos – western cowboys and firearms, winking at the glib make.’

Let’s not forget the dildos here; there’s even a wall-mounted one in this joint. (Maybe it’s a real thing, maybe it’s not, but it’s very funny.) Caught up in the repercussions of this catastrophic civil war is the brash, gun-wielding cop Sukie (always great but never better Beanie Feldstein), after inheriting the funny sex ornament, following a bitter split with her girlfriend.

Her ex-lover – a pain in the ass? It’s the terrific Margaret Qualley’s feisty Jamie, an adventuress who has sex for almost the entire day and would try anything once – loyalty is optional.

And what’s an angry break-up to Jamie if not yet another excuse to embark on a cross-country trip with her uptight and prim lesbian bff Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan, the unassuming scene-stealer who still remains captive for two hours) who is only obsessed with going to Florida to watch birds.

They would eventually get there, of course, but not before hitting several famous lesbian bars, barbeque places and motels on the route that Jamie has mapped out, all in the hopes of loosening up the shy nerd Marian’s inhibitions, or even getting her to have some casual fun on the side.

The year is 1999 and it certainly is the year of the Y2K panic with ascendancy of conservatism hovering, a period that nicely (and thankfully) gets rid of excessive mobile phones as well as social media and other marketing gimmicks that do not elevate this caper. Their plan is as straightforward as it gets – take out a drive-away car that is supposed to be headed for Tallahassee.

One is procured at Curlie’s (Bill Camp) notice, a rather dubious business that has a set up for of dealing in such. It, however, turns out to be the wrong vehicle, being a comically out of place car that has a mystery suitcase that once belonged to a notorious art collector (Pedro Pascal) which was supposed to be transported by two endearing yet dimwitted thugs; smooth talker Arliss (Joey Slotnick) and hyperactive Flint (C. J. Wilson) to its rightful owner. (Just be patient as you would see things from this one as opposed to “Pulp Fiction” which left the mind boggles as to what was in the case this one gives a peek).

Sturdy duo bodacious duo voyaging dynamic, devising the Drive-Away Dolls Film pivots back and forth between the road narrative of Marian and Jamie dodgy borrowed Dodge Aries and the crestfallen, defeated criminals’ chase car, provides us with two mismatched and bickering stroads and road buddies.

While Slotnick and Wilson – who were previously in Ethan Coen’s Ethnogorephobia, a collection of stage plays, A Play Is a Poem – are quite personable, it goes without saying that it is the chemistry between Jamie and Marian that one finds appealing.

Striking arm and upper body positions with an exaggerated Southern drawl and cat like physicality that is both brazen and seductive, Qualley was the very definition of explosive and A firestorm that clause her anew as one of the best stars of her generation, simply had no limits.

Then there is the counterweight of Qualley’s wild uncontrollable wildness, which is Tempest’s at first quiet sparking energy that enlarges And when her Marian is finally … Sprawled on the bed. Drive-Away Dolls is the kind of evolution one would expect of Viswanathan, who is one of the most gifted leading actors these days, and.

No offense to her skills as an actress, however, Feldstein as a ferocious officer who would do anything to send a bunch of goons after Jamie owns the film: the desolate heart and underlying rage that rightfully belongs to Sukie and steals several laugh-out-loud moments of the film. In smaller parts, Matt Damon and Colman Domingo play a mad Conservative politicians and the main villain of the film leave an astonishing impression.

On occasion, an unbecoming air of self-evidence clouds ‘Drive-Away Dolls’, which… will have to resolve such unavoidable challenges –how does it get out of these comparisons in the first place- time and again to older idiosyncratic action-comedies, many of which have been directed by the Coens themselves.

Drive-Away Dolls is also that evocative of nostalgia feeling which the movie succeeds in evoking in any person, regardless of its screen rendering of the F word, its wickedness, glory; not when the fun from all who were or are somehow engaged in the process can be seen from the screen.

And in this regard, – and here I borrow a phrase of LZ_ from the interview given a couple of months ago – there is a disarming what the hell, why not quality to Cooke and Coen’s prose – so words and actions of Jamie and Marian literally bounce from the page into the eyes and ears of the audience with the same enthusiasm as when Julian was present in the scenes.

Drive-Away Dolls most pleasantly surprising is the aftertaste left after this crazy French comedy, which I did not expect at all, namely a sugary romance, all thanks to the unapologetic exaltation of cunning and wise feminine arts. Against the background of dusty landscapes of America the appearance of man defined by time, the flare of colours, and the heady fleeting memories contrasted Export 37, it has the sort of zip that makes one just want to bolt out with it.

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