Honey Don't!

Tropic Sprockets by Ian Brockway

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“Honey, Don’t!” is the second film in Ethan Coen’s B Movie noir trilogy. Ethan is half of the brother powerhouse that is the Coen Brothers. This film is a weird and unfunny episode. Not a bit of it makes sense and it even feels mean at times.

The director is clearly going for camp and kitsch and that is all well and good, but not one character feels honest or well-drawn for full strength dark humor. All feels loose as with an unfinished cartoon.

The film starts with a car crash and a woman who is tied to an evangelical church. Cut to a weirdly miscast Chris Evans as minister Reverend Drew in the manner of a Joel Osteen who has sex while talking. He acts as if he is sitting with his breakfast.

News of the supposed murder reaches Honey (Margaret Qualley) who wants to get answers with some permanent knitted eyebrows and Joe Friday vocalizations.

Honey quizzes Detective Metakawich (Charlie Day) but doesn’t get anywhere beyond unwanted advances and pushy jabs.

Reverend Drew, who is selling drugs, gets news of a botched deal involving oral sex which caused one of his workers to brutally run somebody over with a car. Coldly, he calls for the worker’s murder which ends with a gory throat slitting of an innocent octogenarian.

Honey then questions policewoman Falcone (Aubrey Plaza) with only sex on her mind. Honey and Falcone have sex, but it doesn’t look pleasant or fun.

The story then shifts to Honey’s missing Niece Corinne and a weird older man.

There are many subplots and characters, and the story is hard to follow with events dropped and cast aside.

Officer Falcone is not as she appears, but the switch into a gory horror film on the level of Ed Gein or Kathy Bates from “Misery” feels jarring and extraneous.

The one character that feels interesting, the Femme Fatale Chere (Lera Abova), complete with hair black as night and killer red lips, doesn’t say much.

The shame of this film is that there is precious little to explore. No one feels engaged. There is action on screen, but it doesn’t lead anywhere of interest. The one liners fall as limply as the sex. There are talented actors here in Margaret Qualley and Aubrey Plaza, but evangelically speaking the spirit is weak. The exclamation point in the title is unnecessary in this eerily bland and curiously cruel film.

Write Ian at ianfree11@yahoo.com