Frances McDormans loves bingo, and we love Frances.

Guide Rating -
In theaters Oct. 31, 2001

The Coen brothers always seemed a tad frivolous to me. At their best, their films have an airtight weightlessness to them. The stylization of "The Hudsucker Proxy," "Raising Arizona," "The Big Lebowski," and last year's "O Brother Where Art Thou?" was self-contained in delightful artificiality. For comedies, brilliant banter and cartoonishly exaggerated characters work wonders, but I have always had more respect than love for their rampant inventiveness. Fargo strikes serious notes -- but what stays with you is the image of a leg sticking out of a wood chipper. As splendidly as I have been amused by the Coens, their films never touched me in any meaningful way.

"The Man Who Wasn't There" sets out promising. The usual voice-over narration that opens most of the Coen's films belongs to Billy Bob Thornton, who deftly sketches his life as tight-lipped 1940s barber and husband to adulterous Frances McDormand.

McDormand always stuns, and the single funniest moment of the movie belongs to her. Only minutes into the film, she jumps up and declares "Bingo!" with hilarious urgency. Too bad that the next hour and a half is spent watching the film slowly, slowly lose momentum and grind to an excruciatingly painful halt.

Without giving too much away I can say that "The Man Who Wasn't There" has more than its average allotment of tragedy. A curious setup and the usual wonderfully quirky cast of characters is wasted on a plot that has more in common with "Dancer in the Dark" than "Double Indemnity."

Photographed in luminous black & white, "The Man Who Wasn't There" has its moments -- but it is no coincidence that the best of them are comic. The characters are as colorful as ever, and the script does wonders with the quaintly cool Forties slang. But when Joel and Ethan ponder themes of secrecy, uncertainty, and silence, they weigh down what started out as rollickin' plot of double crosses with leaden heaviness.

Perhaps I should mention that I saw this film three days after the Sept. 11 attacks and was certainly in the mood for lighter fare. Still, in the end the question remains: "Why did you make me watch this?" The trademark Coen weightlessness and stylization makes the drama oddly pointless. Whimsy and randomness work in comedy but leave the viewer feeling detached in tragedy. After having appropriated the title of Preston Sturges' fictional director's earnest movie for "O Brother," Joel and Ethan would do well to also take Sullivan's insight and make funny movies: "There's a lot to be said for making people laugh. Did you know that's all some people have? It isn't much, but it's better than nothing in this cockeyed caravan."