During their time as a film-making team, Joel and Ethan Coen developed a reputation for uncanny synchronization, said by their collaborators to always give the same answer to any question even if asked separately. The brothers came to be called “the two-headed director”, but their respective features apart suggest a surgical detachment less than a single brain split in twain.
A study in contrasts, the works produced during their brief hiatus – they’re rumored to already be back together, hard at work on their first foray into the horror genre – have given the impression of a single sensibility divided up evenly between them. Joel’s austere, atmospheric take on Macbeth ridded itself of all levity along with its color, and now, Ethan’s road comedy Drive-Away Dolls barrels into their shared oeuvre as its goofiest, loosest entry. Joel’s solo project mined the history of American experimental theater for a bold, charcoal-sketched revision of the Bard’s canon; Ethan’s sexploitation send-up revolves around a handful of pilfered dildos.
