Miller's Crossing

... because in typical Coen brothers style, this is a very unconventional tale told in an unconventional way.

It's the Prohibition era in some big city, probably in the northern United States. It seems like it is Chicago, but the entire structure of city government is corrupt right down to the cops, so the city is unnamed. Gangster Leo (Albert Finney) is in a perpetual fight for power with gangster Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito). Leo has the upper hand at the moment, but Caspar is planning to make big time trouble.

Leo's right-hand man Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) is confused. He keeps having sex with Leo's girl Verna, but he's obviously in love with Leo. With Verna, Reagan seems to be "anger bedding" her - to be euphemistic about this - as a means of proving to himself that Verna isn't worthy of Leo. There's almost a jealousy there - of Leo, not Verna. This confusion explains why he is so emotionally flat about everything and everyone except when it comes to Leo. That is where he shows true passion. He uses Verna for sex and for information, but at no time does Reagan do anything that indicates it runs deeper than that with her.

So why is it hard to rate? I found the bro-mance compelling, but to see the forest for the trees you have to wade through the over complicated plot with many supporting characters that just don't make an impression so that it is hard to keep track of what is going on. And the lingo - I suppose this is trying to be like an R rated WB 30s gangster picture, except I am a fan of such films and I simply can't understand what the gangsters are saying. They are using lots of expressions that were made up for this film. Example - "What's the rumpus?". What does that even mean?

On the positive side, the art design and cinematography are wonderful as is the choreography of the more important scenes. One supporting character who actually is memorable? John Turturro as Bernie Bernbaum, Verna's brother. He's both a bully and a despicable coward, depending upon whether or not he thinks he has the upper hand. And he is not nearly as clever as he thinks he is.

So I'd recommend this one, but if you want to get all of the details of the plot, you might need to watch it twice.

In my modest opinion, this film is the Coen's greatest achievement to date, even greater than Fargo. I was happy to see so many recent entries on this page, because that means something I predicted long ago is coming true: film buffs are finally "discovering" Miller's Crossing, an underground masterpiece that has dwelt in obscurity for ten years.

The central motif of the hat, and Johnny Caspar's preoccupation with the altitude thereof, brings to mind another underrated masterpiece, Drugstore Cowboy. The complex Jungian symbolism of forests, doors and especially hats is my favorite aspect of the film.

The only criticism I've heard of this film (and I think it's B.S.) has to do with the "over-acting"--a criticism that has been directed at more than one Coen film. Admittedly, Coen screenplays read more like novels than movie scripts and are not always actor-friendly. Gabriel Byrne, who appears in all but two scenes, does a great job playing an extremely complicated character. Tom Reagan is a smart guy surrounded by morons, and exists in a scenario where only muscle counts and brains don't. And he hates it. And he hates himself because he knows he's all brains and no heart. He tries to redeem himself through a selfless devotion to Leo, whom he hates. All this makes for an immensely challenging part, and the film could easily have fallen apart with a lesser actor than Gabriel Byrne playing the lead.

But the acting is great from top to bottom: Marcia Gay Harden (in her big screen debut) as the hard-boiled moll; Jon Polito as the maniacal Johnny Caspar; Steve Buscemi as the hop-addicted Mink; J.E. Freeman, who is such a marvellous screen villain you have to wonder why he's still toiling in obscurity; and Albert Finney, an actor who embodies the term "screen presence." But the Grand Prix goes to John Turturro, who carries the most powerful scene in the movie: when Tom takes Bernie out to Miller's Crossing to "whack" him.

Another criticism frequently levelled against the Coens is that they are preoccupied with "scenes" and don't focus enough on plot coherence. This too is an invalid criticism, as far as I'm concerned. Some people are irritated by a film that you have to watch a couple times to fully understand, but that's precisely the kind of film that I love, and that's why I love Miller's Crossing so much. Every time I see it I pick up on something that I didn't catch before.

Speaking of "scenes", the "Danny Boy" scene is the best. The second best is the following scene, where Tom and Terry walk through a hallway lined with goons. The third is the police raid on the Sons of Erin Club, in which Leo takes on the entire police force.

I'll resist the temptation to call Miller's Crossing "The Greatest Film of All Time"--because who has the right to say that? But I must say that it is my favorite film of all time.

"I'm talkin' about friendship. I'm talkin' about character. I'm talkin' about--hell Leo, I ain't embarrassed to use the word--ethics." So Jon Polito, as crime-boss Johnny "Caspar," describes to his overlord, Albert Finney as "Leo," his point of view while seeking permission to kill a double-crossing underling (played by John Turturro) in the opening lines of __Miller's Crossing__. Had the script sought only to explore the power relationship between the two chief mobsters (one the rising Italian, the other the diminishing Irishman), this would have been a very good gangster film. It portrays an earlier era in the nation's history of organized crime (perhaps Chicago in the late '20s), and one can imagine Leo as the Irish predecessor of __The Godfather__'s Don Vito Corleone (Marlon Brando).

Just as __The Godfather__ was really about family relationships and the ethical complexities arising when familial loyalty collides with the business of violence, however, __Miller's Crossing__ is actually about, as Caspar tells us, friendship and character put under the enormous strain of that same business of violence. The film, therefore, centers on Leo's trusted adviser Tom (played flawlessly by the Irish actor Gabriel Byrne). Tom is not a gunsel, but the brain behind Leo's muscle. His decisions carry life and death consequences, however, and we watch him try to live with himself, to preserve his character, as he works out a code that will help him and his friends survive brutally violent upheavals. Critics of the film have cited its graphic cruelty and the seeming coldness of its characters, yet these are essential features in developing the film's theme.

Sentimentality might get any of the major characters killed, and one notes the pathos and dark humor that underline an ironic distance that each character, especially Tom, cultivates as a tool for survival.

Clues abound as we wonder what Tom will do next. Follow, for example, the men's hats over the course of the film. Who "keeps his lid on," so to speak, and who loses his? Note the number of times characters exclaim "Jesus!" or "Damn!" when saying the name "Tom." What has he sacrificed? Has he damned himself?

Spectacular action sequences, beautiful production values, top-notch camera work by Barry Sonnenfeld, a haunting musical score, and the best dialogue ever written by the Coen brothers make this a great gangster film. The fascinating and complex theme of friendship, character, and ethics make it one of the great films from any genre.

It's the Prohibition era. Leo O'Bannon (Albert Finney) is an Irish mob boss who controls the city. Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) is his right hand man. Verna (Marcia Gay Harden) has the boss wrapped around her little finger. Only Leo doesn't know that Verna is also sleeping with Tom. Italian rival Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito) wants to kill bookie Bernie Bernbaum (John Turturro) who's been taking advantage of him. Tom tries to get Leo to give up Bernie but he's Verna's brother and Leo refuses. Leo and Johnny go to war. Leo kicks Tom out when he reveals his affair with Verna. Tom goes to work for Caspar and he's commanded to execute Bernie in the woods at Miller's Crossing.

It's the third big great movie from the Coen brothers and they show a real mastery of the cinematic arts. It is beautifully shot, ultra violent, and the actors are some of the best around. It is hard-boiled gangster noir and one of the best for fans of the genre. The mannerisms and dense dialog can put off some people and may lose some who don't pay enough attention. There are no good guys in this story. It is strictly anti-hero stuff. That may also put off some people. The audience is asked to pull for Gabriel Byrne even though he's still a gangster, just a more reasonable one.

When someone asks "give me a great movie to watch that I probably haven't seen," this is my go-to response. To me, this is the Coen Brothers finest movie, a brilliantly crafted mob film with incredibly witty dialogue, beautiful sets, excellent characters, and wonderful plot twists. Tom Reagan, "the man who walks behind the man and whispers in his ear," is one of the greatest gangsters ever created, and the crazy love triangle of Tom, Leo, and Verna is just one of the great sub-plots in a movie FILLED with "up is down, black is white" moments. Gabriel Byrne, Albert Finney, and Jon Polito are stellar, the "Danny Boy" scene is a classic ("the old man is still an artist with a Thompson"), and my only regret here is that I can't give this masterpiece the "12" it deserves. Two thumbs up, as high as I can hold them.