The Man Who Wasn't There

A Coen Brothers Film

Ed Crane's expensive out-of-town lawyer, in desperation, tries to tell the jury that his client "is modern man", alienated, no place to be, more to be pitied than censured. "He said I was modern man," drawls Ed Crane, narrator, in a voice which leaves no doubt what he thinks of the idea. By this ridicule, within the story, of the idea that Mr Crane is someone about whom conclusions can be drawn, or generalisations made, the Coen brothers have more or less immunised themselves against the possibility of anyone trying to say what this film is trying to say.

Which is almost a shame, because a film this good could carry a message without buckling under the strain. But hey, it's not a problem, because the film is, ahem, so good. I understand now why people read Michael Winner writing about restaurants, or Julie Burchill writing about anything. It's because they slag things off, rudely and often. Which is so much more fun than reading about why something is good. If "The Man Who Wasn't There", for example, is splendid, marvellous, superb, faultless, great, etc, then giving details only detracts from the pleasure of experiencing it for yourself.

But I've got to put something. OK. It's a "noir", apparently, which I think just means it has a wryly bleak point of view, and no very neat or happy resolution. It's subtle without being "difficult", it's funny, even believable in an unbelievable sort of way. It lovingly pokes fun at the genre and the era in which it is set. The acting is magnificent, which puzzles me, as I firmly hold the view that a good performance is one you don't notice as being a performance. Every scene, every line, every facial expression, is necessary and exactly right. As in the limerick about the vampire called Mabel, nothing is superfluous to the overall meaning.

And the overall meaning? At one point Ed Crane describes how his wife suggested they get married. He asks her if she didn't think she should get to know him a bit more first. "Why?" she replies, "Does it get any better?"

What "The Man Who Wasn't There" said to me was: "Do not accept a rubbish life or other people's standards, not even a little bit, or you may never escape." But I'm like that. I like a moral to my stories. I like to imagine other people being inspired by films and toddling out towards the kebab van with renewed hope, integrity, purpose, wisdom, kindness, tolerance, etc etc.

So for you it will probably be different. Go and see. There's pig-riding, and aliens, too.

Ian Threadgill 04/02/02