'Honey Don’t' and the Coen Brothers Problem
This is a tough time we’re living through.
The Coen Brothers have broken up.
And while I’ve got nothing against great filmmakers following their own paths — even when that means ditching long-standing creative partnerships — I have to be honest: Joel and Ethan Coen were simply better together than they are apart.
Together, they made some of the best movies of all time. You know the list: Fargo, No Country for Old Men, Raising Arizona, The Big Lebowski. Modern classics, all of them.
Since the split, though? Their solo projects have been spotty at best, lacking the magic that made their collaborations so iconic.
The latest piece of evidence is Honey Don’t, Ethan Coen’s second solo effort following last year’s Drive-Away Dolls. Once again, he teams up with Dolls co-writer Tricia Cooke and star Margaret Qualley for a quirky, sun-soaked, hardboiled noir comedy. The results? Eh.
Here’s a hot (maybe unfair) take: imagine the most cartoonish, one-note characters from the worst Coen Brothers movie, now reimagined as the leads of a cable TV show written by overzealous, horny Coen Bros superfans. That’s Honey Don’t in a nutshell. Yeah, that’s reductive, but also not far off.
To its credit, the film centers characters that rarely take the spotlight. Margaret Qualley plays Honey, a whip-smart, proudly queer private investigator who’s always on the lookout for her next hookup. On paper, she’s a compelling lead. But the film doesn’t do her justice.
There are hints of deeper themes, like maybe something about the rot at the heart of conservative American culture, or the endless chase for love and sexual fulfillment. But these ideas are barely sketched. They get lost in the noise of underwritten characters and a story that never builds real emotional weight.
The result is a movie that feels oddly hollow. It gestures toward meaning, but never commits.
Tonally, Honey Don’t is a grab bag: part Raymond Chandler noir, part Russ Meyer sexploitation, part Big Lebowski send-up. That genre mashup has potential, and at times, the vibe works. A few jokes land. The kitsch is amusing.
But most of it falls flat. The film coasts on fumes siphoned from better movies, and its humor, pacing, and tone feel off. There’s also a streak of mean-spirited gore that feels misjudged and out of sync with the rest of the film.
The cast is stacked. Qualley, Chris Evans, Aubrey Plaza, and Charlie Day are clearly having fun playing R-rated cartoon versions of sitcom tropes. Evans is enjoyable hamming it up as a sleazy preacher; Day is funny, bumbling through as a clueless cop.
Some scenes, especially early ones between Qualley and Plaza, really click. Their chemistry feels authentic, until the story pulls them apart with a plot that meanders and goes nowhere.
I wanted to like this. I appreciated the themes Coen and Cooke were trying to explore. But Honey Don’t sputters early, and its mystery plot lands with a thud. That wouldn’t be fatal if the characters were compelling or the story meant something. But they aren’t, and it doesn’t.
So no, I can’t recommend it.
But hey, rumors of a Coen Brothers reunion are swirling. Maybe the darker days are ending. Fingers crossed.
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