Hail, Caesar! takes us back to a golden era of moviemaking, when Hollywood was an empire in its own right, and the people who ran it, eccentric as they were, grappled with scandal, fame, and fortune on a daily basis. We follow Ed Mannix (Josh Brolin), head producer at Capitol Pictures, in his exhaustive efforts to save his stars from their own scandalous behaviors, knowing full well that as the 1951 studios begin to break up, the future of moviemaking, his company, and his livelihood hang in the balance. As he maneuvers between oddballs and screwballs and criminals, he is forced to examine his own economics, values, relationships, and ultimately theology. It's a moving movie about making movies, and one that stole its way into my heart.
What's that you say? That doesn't sound like the movie Hail, Caesar! to you? Why do you say that?
What we have here is a problem with marketing. I thought -- along with several other people I've heard from -- that this movie was going to be a raucous, irreverent, madcap comedy bubbling over with slapstick and irony and all the things listed so perfectly in its trailers. Guess what? It's not.
Sure, it has a few of these elements. The casting is brilliant, the script is fierce, and the production design is simply perfect. The film makes reference after reference so quickly that it took me hours afterward to remember some; each reference is so cheeky that I often laughed aloud and missed the rapid-fire dialogue. We see everything from Ben-Hur to Gene Kelly, and from Esther Williams to Carmen Miranda. It's a glorious celebration of the industry.
But it's not a madcap caper film about a bunch of zany moviemakers banding together to save their iconic leading man (obviously played by George Clooney, because who else?) from his untimely abduction. I was expecting the enormous cast of stars to share a lot of screen time and a lot of laughs as they fashioned a comedic heist, like a silly, campy version of Argo. And it just doesn't happen. Ever.
Sure, the performances are great, but they are relegated to brief scenes. Each character, besides Brolin and Clooney, gets only two or three scenes each, and these are usually one-on-one with either Brolin or Clooney. Those scenes are jam-packed with a showcase of the actor's talents, but we never really get much else, let alone interaction between them. And as for all of them banding together to save the star, it's almost laughable: I think only about three characters besides Brolin even know that Clooney has been abducted, much less offer aid.
I may feel a little bitter about the more or less "epic" comedy that doesn't exist here, but there are a lot of great things to be said for the movie that we got instead. It's a glorious testament, riddled with nostalgia and wit and charm, and showcasing some of our brightest modern stars in period performances. Channing Tatum steals the movie away with his song and dance as Burt Gurney, a Gene Kelly homage. Tilda Swinton would have stolen the movie had the film given her more screen time as twin sister, rival gossip columnists Thora and Thessaly Thacker. The effects are all old-school, with long takes to show off dancing and comedic skills and the use of miniatures and backlot sets where we might otherwise have wasteful CGI (I'm thinking of the anti-climactic scene with the submarine). And, finally, there's the script that, typical of the Coens, is about far more than it initially suggests. It's about religion and economics and history and politics and all sorts of complicated things that it never really resolves but Brolin's character manages to work out for himself. I think his priest would be proud of him.
IMDb: Hail, Caesar!
