"Blood Simple", Joel and Ethan Coen's cinematic debut, gave audiences and critics a start with their expert film prowess when it came to the repercussions of violence gone wrong. It was not until their second movie, "Raising Arizona", that everyone was able to see that these were not simply two great craftsmen, but rather two visionaries. It is one of the more Coen's-y of their works, but unlike some of the others this one's extreme characters and absurdist plot meld into something like comic genius.
This is a story of an incomplete family. H.I. and Ed (Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter) are a paroled gas station robber and a local police officer, respectively, who are now married and seeking to complete what Ed, short for Edwina, calls their "family unit". The live in any small town in Arizona, a place full of yes ma'am's, no sir's and okay then's; a place full of bad clothes, bad hair, bad food and a gun behind every supermarket counter; a place where a Walmart would probably clean up nicely. And not unlike this place in the middle of the desert, Ed is barren.
The maternal instinct is too strong to be quelled by biology or an unhelpful adoption agency. H.I. and Ed take it upon themselves to help out Nathan Arizona (Trey Wilson), whose large warehouse of unpainted furniture and bathroom fixtures has made him rich, and whose recent quintuplets have left him with his hands full. Our robber and our officer snatch a baby--probably Nathan Jr., but nobody is very sure--leading to a manhunt where the prize is $25,000.
The story is ridiculous, the characters preposterous and the dialogue hyper-exaggerated. Through all of this bloatedness emerges a superb example of art house screwball. I may just now have coined that term, and the Coen Bros. might have invented it. Most of the story is zany and zippy with hilarious performances by the two leads and a whole host of wonderful supporting characters from actors including Frances McDormand, Sam McMurray, John Goodman and William Forsythe.
A funny film like this might have gone relatively unnoticed had it not also have been for the current of elevated, almost spiritual scenes featuring a monstrous man on motorbike running throughout. Seeming to spring out of a nightmare, this wild-haired, cigar-smoking bringer of death with a slightly delicate voice trumpets in all of the wrath of woman's scorn incarnate.
In much the same way that John Goodman's character in "Barton Fink" would instigate lots of intense discussion about the meaning of the film, this man with his sawed-off shotguns and his Woody Woodpecker tattoo does the same thing here. At first I viewed him as the retribution of Mrs. Arizona for her stolen child. Later, he became nothing short of the devil. Finally, upon seeing the tattoo which H.I. shares, he became the past, present and future of the criminal should he abandon his family. The man kills rabbits, lizards, flowers and all of the small, delicate things that make a desert a bit less harsh and this man closes in on H.I. and Ed. He is all of the insecurities of parenthood and the temptation of a life left behind but not forgotten.
The film is special because it recognizes the idiotic way that people move through day to day life. It is a major precursor to some of the better work that Joel and Ethan would do later on, but still remains one of the greatest comedies of the last few decades. Their brand is not made to be blockbuster and what I respect about them is that they never try to please anything but their own vision. Sometimes those visions go astray, but thankfully they don't here.
3.5/4
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