Review: "The Ballad of Buster Scruggs" is a Fun and Off-Beat Kaleidoscope of Western Skewering

Scene from The Ballad of Buster Scruggs

Over the course of a career spanning close to 40 years, co-directors Joel and Ethan Coen have done wonders to not only create captivating westerns, but have reinvented the very idea of Americana in the process. Some of their most successful movies, whether it be Miller's Crossing or the more candid True Grit, have all helped to redefined an essential part of the American mythology. So, what else do they have to say in 2018? With anthology film The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, it looks like there's quite a bit actually. Ranging from slapstick to some pitch black drama, The Coen Brothers' take on the west is far more nihilistic these days. It may be among their weaker films, especially with each segment tending to bounce around from tone and style so radically, but it's also further evidence that the old west is still special to them and that they have stories to tell, even if they're not their own.

The film is presented as a short story collection with each page being lifted by hand. The chapters slowly work through their magic, transporting audiences in ways akin to a Disney fairy tale of yesteryear. Only this isn't the west that is beautiful and full of innocent do-gooders. This is one where each chapter ends with the lingering threat of death, sometimes over selfishness and others mere accidents. The project is allegedly based on short stories that The Coen Brothers wrote over the years, which explains their affection for the bits. Even if they don't work, they often share the absurdist sensibility that's always been there. It lingers in every frame, and helps to capture their most nihilistic view of the west yet. While one could argue that No Country for Old Men (technically a "neo" western) is darker, few titles in their collection are as gleeful about violence to the point of once showing a man get each of his fingers shot off one by one.

In some ways, it's an anthology film that centers around the idea of satirizing every type of western. The titular opening segment may be the most disconcerting but the necessary lynch pin to understanding the next two hours. Buster Scruggs (Tim Blake Nelson) is essentially Gene Autry, the Singing Cowboy. There's musical numbers and everything as he rides into town amid Carter Burwell's comical score that almost makes fun of the way the desert sounds. He speaks to the camera, talks about how he's innocent, and gives off the sense that he's a hero. By the segment's end, he's murdered men in the most gruesome of fashion and done so without any remorse. He's Autry as a psychopath, and suddenly the ballad makes entire sense. The ballad isn't so much the journey we'll watch - he's gone from here on out - but the idea of what Buster Scruggs stood for: naive innocence. He didn't believe he was doing wrong, but boy was he doing a whole lot wrong.

Without getting into the depth of what follows, each story delves into that murky area of people travelling to the west in order for some form of glory. James Franco plays a figure wanting freedom from a hanging. Tom Waits merely wants gold. Zoe Kazan wants to do right by her husband. In another era where studios had the John Ford-type that The Coen Brothers lovingly pay homage to, their story would be brighter. They would be the clear heroes. Instead, it's a gruesome vision of the west where their comedy clashes sometimes with horrific death, which for a film featuring lighthearted humor is sometimes graphic. While some of it is played for the seriousness that it is, a lot of it has a sense of hopelessness. The naive innocence of these characters take them to their fate, and there's nothing that can be done. It was foolish of them to think they could cheat the system.

If nothing else, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is quite possibly one of the most perplexing westerns of the decade because of how dark the subject is. Sure, Quentin Tarantino may be more vulgar and confrontational, or Kelly Reichardt's Meek's Cutoff more meticulous and emotional, but The Coen Brothers have reveled in their ability to be everything at once. In a lot of ways, this is a spiritual successor to their previous film, the much superior Hail Caesar!, which explored religion within the studio system. If that doesn't show some type of deep subversion with its genre-blending narrative, then what does? The whole point is that the film exposes audiences to different types of inhumanity, all clashing together in off-putting ways. It forces the question as to why these ideas have been socially acceptable. Why is Buster Scruggs seen as a hero? Why do we think that Franco can outrun a hanging? As predictable as some fates are, it is meant to be more honest. The only way it seems for The Coen Brothers to get that across is through a jarring tonal pallet.

It helps that once again The Coen Brothers' biggest asset in the genre is creating a world of wonderful imagery. Much like True Grit before, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is a film that looks gorgeous and makes everything from a campsite to a decaying forest look beautiful. Every detail is perfectly in place, and that leads to several visual gags that are some of their most creative. The co-directors are clearly having fun with the form here, and Burwell is once again in top form with his score that adds depth to the scenes, managing to feel grandiose when necessary and goofy at others. The anthology format allows for each story to look and feel different, and it's the film's biggest success even as it tries to hold every piece together. By the end, not every piece is given equal screen time though the weight of each piece is felt by the audience. By the end, it has felt like a journey through the west and one that is an unpleasant, macabre side show that one cannot help but peer into. It's just that beautifully tragic.

The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is a film that wants to catch you off guard. It wants to be able to explore American cinema's relationship with the west while also painting a more realistic portrait. This means that those wanting an upbeat Gene Autry parody will have to settle for whatever sadistic thing The Coen Brothers are offering. Those wanting John Ford-style cinematography to be matched with white heroism will also be disappointed. Everything about this story feels meant to discomfort the audience while throwing them off conventions. It may be tough to fully appreciate, especially as some segments are better than others, but what is here is another solid film from the directors who prove that no genre is too incapable of being the least bit interesting in their hands. It may not match their best work, but the good news is that even at its worst, it's still one of the most memorable and bizarre things that have been released this year.