Only the Coen brothers could intermingle existentialism, film noir, UFO’s, piano prodigies, fortunetellers and barbers into a compelling piece of cinematic art.  The Man who Wasn’t There is a stylish, sometimes languishing, but never dull look at how ordinary people act and react under extraordinary circumstances.  Think about it, less than 2% of the population is known by about 98% of it.  Name off a list of 20 celebrities and/or athletes, and odds are, someone will recognize a name on that list.  Most of us who exist in that 98% walk around, wondering, questioning, thinking, pondering, but usually never finding, our reason or purpose for being here.  We walk around, unnoticed by most, each of us with our own dilemmas, joy’s, and pain’s and life events that we react to, as if we are unique.  We feel like ghosts on the grand stage of life, some like it, others don’t, but we still continue on, moving forward towards a destination that we don’t know, following a path we sometimes do not understand.  This film embodies that feeling, without flaunting it in our faces, capitalizing and overreacting as most movies would have.  Director Joel, and writer Ethan, take a simple tale of a barber, his unfaithful wife, a department store manager, an entrepreneur and a talented teen, and use their magic to create a powerful message about life.  Since the film is in black and white, the characters and dialogue are more noticeable, yet the Coen’s obviously learned from Hitchcock and Welles, amongst others, and use lighting, shadows, angles and smoke to give the look of the film a life of its own.  The end result is a cinematic gift, which, if patient, will pay off in ways that will stay with you long after the smoke has cleared.

Since the revelation, explanation, and resolution of the plot are part of the movie’s noir-esque magic, I will layout only the basics, and leave the Coen’s best intentions to do the rest.  It is 1940’s, Anytown USA, Thornton is Eddie Crane, a simple barber, married to Doris, who is emotionally, just about the exact opposite of Eddie.  She is lively, and passionate, and as extroverted as Eddie is introverted.  Eddie has dreams, buried deep inside him, which seep out just as slowly as his walk and his voice.  He wants, what most people want, success, money, and happiness, he just goes about in his own low-key manner, figuring that simplicity and commonality will pay off in the long run.  Doris works at a local department store, for Big Dave Brewster, who loves to weave his manly tales of war and battle.  Eddie also befriends a young girl, Birdy, the daughter of a nearly unconscious attorney, who has a natural talent for the piano. Throw in some UFO’s, an egotistical piano teacher, an Italian picnic, and a fast-talking entrepreneur and you have only a story that the Coen's could pull off. In its classic unveiling, Man Who Wasn’t There seems to be, American Beauty, filtered through Hitchcock, and told by Raymond Chandler.  It twists so slowly, yet drastically, that’s its almost frighteningly real and believable in all its dark touches.   The story is carried by its look; a Citizen Kane style combination of shadows, light and the always-present cigarette smoke.  The thing I love about black and white photography is that it leaves most things to the imagination, and gives the storytellers, carte blanche to build something, without the distraction of color.  Here, it sets the mood for what’s to come, in a way that color may have tainted.  The background, the costumes, the scenery, all seem to disappear, as if they are not as important as the people moving around within them.   There are so many evidences, and inferences, as to Eddie not being “there” that I will let the viewer discover them on their own, and discuss later, and believe me, you will be talking about this movie, if you have patience, and let it seep its way slowly inside you.

The characters become the key in this story, since there are really only two instances of exuberant emotion or action.  The key to all is Thornton, playing Crane down to near Prozac overdose level, by using his words to show his emotions, rather than his facial expression or action.  Think Karl Childers, with a flat top and cigarettes.  He is a simple man, a man who isn’t there, yet walks around in the body of a man who is.  Thornton, for all his recent eccentricities, was the perfect choice for this role.  He has shown a penchant for the simple man, conflicted, fighting within himself to do what is right, and here, he keeps it all bottled inside like a volcano that erupts with a patience that is nearly unrecognizable.  Also pitch perfect in supporting roles are Gandolfini, showing yet another aspect of his acting ability, playing the oafish, wanna-be tough guy, struggling to be cute and succeed, McDormand, who just naturally slips into her woman wanting more, but settling for what she has, Badalucco, as the lovable, huggable, best friend, who may or may not have more going on behind his façade, and the underrated Johannsen (whom I still believe was robbed of a nomination for Horse Whisperer) who walks the line of playful innocence and mature poise with a frightening ease.  Along with Thornton though, I beg the Academy to pay attention to the scene stealing Shalhoub, as lawyer Freddy Reidenschneider.  This was obviously a role written to be the antithesis of Crane, and given the most color of any character in the film, hence it could have easily been overdone, or hammed up by the wrong actor.  But Shalhoub injects the right amount of swagger and sarcasm into this role, offsetting nearly every other performance in the film, yet fitting right, in the Coen’s own version of the world.

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(Clint Eastwood, (2001), performed by Gorillaz, written by Damon Albarn)