

Blood Simple (1984)
Dear Frances,โฃ
โฃ
What do you ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ข๐ฏ you werenโt aware I was in the midst of a Coen Brothers retrospective series? Did I not make that abundantly clear? No? Crikey, I let go of the baton on that one. Apologies. Anyway, now that weโre all on the same page I thought it would be an appropriate time to set aside the Coenโs modern, polished works, and head back to the beginning: their debut, ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ (๐ท๐ฟ๐พ๐บ).
As a standalone film, ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ epitomises neo-noir in all its self-encaging torment with a nod to 1970/80s slasher flicks, but retrospectively when attributing it to the genre-manipulating brothers, the mechanisms and oddities which they imitate from noir and slasher films are the same which guided their current, undefinable style into fruition. Stylistically, ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ is the immature and unrefined origin of what would eventually become the duos trademarks. โฃ

๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ follows Julian (Dan Hedaya), a married man so defeated by jealousy over his wife Abbyโs (Frances McDormand) adultery that he pays P.I. Visser (M. Emmet Walsh) to have her and her lover, Ray (John Getz), killed. What ensues can be summarised by the metaphor of Julianโs dead fish: โฃwe are all doomed by our desires.โฃ

The film is a peculiar concoction of the brothers’ influences. ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ bolsters low-synths, heavy sound effects, and pacey-camerawork, tilting a blood-stained hat to Sam Raimiโs ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ท๐ช๐ญ ๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ (๐ท๐ฟ๐พ๐ท) (which Joel helped edit), whilst obsessively convoluting itself as if being the offspring of noir-classics ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ช๐จ ๐๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฑ (๐ท๐ฟ๐บ๐ผ) and ๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐๐ฉ๐ช๐ณ๐ฅ ๐๐ข๐ฏ (๐ท๐ฟ๐บ๐ฟ). The youthfulness of these homages would mature into the idiosyncrasies theyโre known for, such as the paranoia of footsteps in ๐๐ฐ ๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ณ๐บ (๐ธ๐ถ๐ถ๐ฝ) and ๐๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ ๐๐ง๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ (๐ธ๐ถ๐ถ๐พ), and the latter film’s bizarre web of misunderstandings.โฃ

But where ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ flourishes is in its course and unrefined tendency; the insanity of a slasher nightmare ruining the romanticism of infidelity. The blend of genre is less fluid and more sudden than their modern worksโ the edges of the duoโs hybridity not yet bevelledโ but the conflation of style is still balanced and never out of place. A large part of this must be credited to Barry Sonnenfeldโs camerawork, which is versatile enough to be labelled innately nomadic; always wandering, never settling. โฃ

The use of horror tactics creates a sickly sense of dread throughout the film, further aggravated by the characters who are literally dripping with sweat even amidst the cold. The feeling of being trapped in a moment in time isnโt a stylistic trope, but a mechanism that explains the purgatories of self-sabotage. Julian himself is aware of this, stating โIโm staying right here in Hellโ before embarking on a quest of self-destruction. And what better way to do this than be accompanied by the Devil himself? In ๐ ๐๐ณ๐ฐ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ณ itโs Sheriff Cooley; in ๐๐ฐ ๐๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ณ๐บ itโs Chigurh; in ๐๐ข๐ณ๐ต๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ itโs Charlie; and in ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ itโs Visser. For the Coenโs, the devil has a creased face and lives in the South.

โฃAlthough retrospective series can fall victim to repetitive elaborations, the Coen Brothers berserk hybridity and iconoclasticism disallows their filmography to be a boxset of similarities. ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ (๐ท๐ฟ๐พ๐บ) is unpolished and therefore unwillingly helpful in somewhat understanding their methods and the origins of, but by the same account, it almost distances our understanding by showing us how dense their repertoire is and how much more they appropriate. A definition is impossible. Itโs endless. And Iโm tired. But as I walk to bed Iโll remember what ๐๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ฅ ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ญ๐ฆ did teach me:โฃ
โฃ
When you hear footsteps, be sure theyโre not your own. โฃ
โฃ
Until next time.โฃ
โฃ
Warm regards,โฃ
โฃ
M.โฃ