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The title of Ethan Coen’s film, “Drive-Away Dolls,” evokes the vulgar excesses of old-school exploitation cinema, with its horrors and pleasures, slaughter and flesh. If only! The promising setup involves two friends, the bumbling duo of Margaret Qualley as Jamie and Geraldine Viswanathan as Marian, who, during a 1999 road trip from Philadelphia to Florida, come into possession of a briefcase sought by some bad, violent men. There will be blood, yes, if not enough to obscure the inert staging, DOA jokes and over-the-top acting.
This is the most recent film Ethan Coen has made without his brother Joel, his longtime collaborator. (Ethan also made the 2022 documentary “Jerry Lee Lewis: Trouble on Mind.”) To some extent, “Drive-Away Dolls” seems to be part of the Coens’ practice of playing with story forms (film genres and otherwise), which they have consistently lampooned, altered, and all but destroyed. Mixing the seemingly high with the supposedly low, they sample and riff on populist and rarefied sources, the spiritual and the material. This can create fascinating doubling in that you have the film in front of you and its layered references, all of which can flow together when not frozen, which unfortunately happens here.
Written by Coen and his wife, Tricia Cooke, “Drive-Away Dolls” begins on an old-style neon sign spelling out the word “Cicero,” immediately suggesting you’re on familiar Coen territory. This nod to the philosopher puts you on alert, but also seems like bait for those fans eager to examine signs and meanings (which can be a flattering exercise for filmmakers and viewers). Soon enough, the camera hovers inside the bar where a panicked-looking man (Pedro Pascal as the Collector) is sitting at a table clutching a briefcase against his body. After exchanging words with a curiously hostile waiter, the Collector sneaks down a shadowy Chandleresque street before taking a fatal turn into a nightmarish alley.
This particular briefcase contains another of moviedom’s titles. cool what’s up, one of those mysteries that, like knowledge itself, some people have, others are desperate to obtain, and others ultimately regret having. After some character introductions, Jamie, Marian et. enter. Alabama. – and pro forma scenography, the film gets to work and the briefcase changes hands. For reasons that make sense mostly as a screenwriting idea, the two friends get a car from a guy named Curlie (Bill Camp) and hit the road, with plans to visit Marian’s aunt in Tallahassee. There’s some sticky sweet stuff, too: Jamie, who broke up with his girlfriend, a tough cop named Sukie (Beanie Feldstein), thinks Marian needs to get laid. Marian too, so there are more bars to come.