Content Warning: references to sexual and domestic abuse

You see, the problem is that I’m a lightweight. One schooner of beer and I’m out of commission. I do things I’m not supposed to, like agree to write a review for the magazine. 

The way it started was that I drank at the Edition 4 launch party and, come home time, made the mistake of sitting next to Farrago Reviews Manager, Ruby, and saying something along the lines of how out of it I was. She said she liked my last review—the one that had a poop joke as a title that I thought nobody got. Would I like to write another one, she asked me. 

My generous nature prevailed. Sure, I have two essays due in two weeks with a combined word count that would make the Bible look like a pamphlet, the likes of which I haven’t even begun to research, but hey. Why not? Rock and roll, because you only live once. I’m a lover of the craft and I’d die for it. 

The movie I’d like to talk about today is Honey Don’t, starring Margaret Qualley, Chris Evans, Aubrey Plaza and Charlie Day. Qualley stars in this crime caper as the lesbian private detective Honey O’Donahue, who fools around with troublesome women and gets embroiled in shenanigans. Evans is the reverend Drew Devlin, who leads a sex-culty church, and Honey has to investigate him and his organisation after the suspicious death of a potential client.  Plaza showcases her talents as main love interest and cop MG Falcone, bringing her dry wit made famous from Parks and Recreation. Honey Don’t is directed by Ethan Coen of Coen brothers fame and written by his lesbian wife Tricia Cooke (not sure how that works). It is the second of what is considered the “lesbian B-movie collection”, the first being Drive-Away Dolls, also starring Qualley. 

I was really, really looking forward to seeing this movie. I saw the trailer and thought it looked pretty sick. A crime caper, albeit one with a plot that sounded a little cliche, but with a Coen brother attached to it, I figured all would be well. That little bit of Evans preaching with his heart and soul about higher service and was sold. That shit was what I needed in my veins ASAP. But, like any addict, I did the deed and then felt shame coarse over me, wave after wave. For days I was busy revising my review in my head, trying to decide what I would share to my two followers on LetterBoxd.

One thing that struck me was the sheer amount of sex. Sex scenes occur about four to five times in the movie, which is surprising given the movie only runs for 89 minutes. Chris Evans is in three of them, for anyone interested, but ol’ Captain America does not hang dong. Someone ought to tell Cooke and Coen that there is a whole genre of film dedicated to just people being nude and having sex. I’m sure that their talents could elevate the form to new heights. I was not disappointed to watch sexually tense displays between Plaza and Qualley. But when those are the heights of excitement when watching cinema, I’d rather skip the whole eleven dollar ordeal and stay at home with my Pringles can, some sponges and a rubber glove (for the uninitiated and the stingy, instructions for self-entertainment will be included in next edition’s Farrago editorial). 

One of the few scenes I can think of that was riveting and where the actors had clothes on was the scene between Evans and Qualley, when the latter is attempting to squeeze out some information about the dead girl. It’s a neat little back and forth, where both actors are very charming, but rarely does the movie ever reach new peaks or explore new avenues. It’s clear that despite the drawbacks of the film (and there are a few), the performances are not one of them. As previously stated, I enjoyed the scene of Evans, the corrupt preacher, talking about God. I wish there could’ve been more of it. 

To its credit, the movie can be somewhat funny. I’m a huge fan of Fargo, both the movie and the TV show, and there are moments where the old Coen & Coen charm does shine through. I never burst my appendix laughing, but there were moments when I lightly chuckled to myself. 

One of the saving graces of this movie was Charlie Day. I like Charlie Day because in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, he is king of the rats and sniffs paint. And while he is neither of those things in this movie, Day is a delightful presence, consistently asking Qualley’s Honey out on a date and being confused when the lesbian detective shuts him down. It’s a nice gag. 

Aubrey Plaza always sort of confuses me, because she comes across as dryly funny but not much else. This worked very well in Parks and Recreation, but her acting always comes off as somewhat reserved. I always feel like she’s going to make some kind of dry, mildly fucked up joke and then I get surprised when it’s just a normal line. It’s a sort of whiplash that I only get when she performs. The way she says, “Love those click-clacking heels”, sounds less like a tried and tested Coen turn of phrase and more a stilted impression of someone from the past unconvincingly attempting to blend into the present day. 

Disappointingly, the plot goes nowhere. It starts off pretty generically: suspicious death, private detective becomes suspicious about death, police say it’s nothing to worry about. Detective, badass and right about the situation, confronts the suspicious party. But then there’s other stuff about the French being key to the church organisation, a missing niece and MG Falcone was actually a previous member of the church and goes on about the exploitation of women and how, by not killing their abusers, women are essentially weak and part of the problem. 

I feel like there’s a perfectly valid point to be made about the methods of dealing with trauma and abuse, but in the context of this story: a romp about a private detective who loves lesbian sex encountering a corrupt preacher, the point seems very weak. Certainly, there are a few threads on abuse. Honey’s missing niece Corrine is hit by her boyfriend; the response being Honey goes and beats him back. The dead girl is the result of finding self-confidence after giving herself to the Reverend, which presumably leads the church to kill her (I think). The Reverend takes advantage of shy, insecure women from his congregation to stoke his own ego. Charlie Day’s character won’t stop harassing Honey, no matter how many times she rebuffs his affections. MG Falcone was once a member of the Church and was sexually abused by her father. In return she killed him. 

While these concepts seem sound to be explored on their own, they are frequently overshadowed by the main character, who embodies the Cyndi Lauper mentality of “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun”. She’s just a sassy girlboss lesbian private detective. Not that Honey is a one-dimensional character, it’s that more often than not the movie seems more interested in her sexual exploits than it does other characters. Why do Evans’ and Day’s characters do what they do? Why doesn’t Honey lend a helping shoulder to Falcone when the latter opens up about her past? Does Honey have her own intimacy issues that lead her to hop from bed to bed? It leaves a lot more to be desired, meaning a lot of the conclusions feel anticlimactic. Honey goes out to do more lesbian sex shit. Falcone dies. The Reverend Drew dies because he pissed off the Frenchy. It’s a lot less like Fargo or The Big Lebowski, where things feel like they’re spiralling out of control and getting messier. The movie has the effect of feeling too messy and yet too clean, like a handful of spaghetti wrapped up in a bow. 

In the end, I think that Ethan Coen is coasting a bit too easily on the goodwill from his tenure of directing with his brother. As for Cooke, someone should get her out of the kitchen, because she’s making a mess!