DRIVE-AWAY DOLLS - Mark Reviews Movies

Drive-Away Dolls, Focus Features

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Review by Mark Dujsik | February 22, 2024

Drive-Away Dolls breezes through its plot. It's as if this elaborate concoction of murder, money, late-1990s politics, a severed head, and a mysterious briefcase—containing something so unexpected you likely wouldn't believe that it's the story's MacGuffin if it was revealed ahead of time—doesn't actually matter. Co-writer/director Ethan Coen knows this plot matters only so far as it can be weird, full of surprises, and capable of repeatedly catching us off guard with just how goofy it becomes.

This is, after all, a screwball comedy, and Coen and co-screenwriter Tricia Cooke (the director's wife) are also aware enough to focus on the screwy part of that description. Here, we're taken on a tour of underground crime, parties, bars and clubs and juke joints, and networks of black-market trade and potential political controversy. Everyone's at least a little bit strange, because what other type of person would become caught up in a plot such as this one? It contains violence, of course, because these people mean business, despite how silly they and the conspiracy entangling them may be. Even the violence, though, is played with a wink.

That's never more apparent than in the film's prologue, which immediately sets the tone, the pace, the capacity for shock, and the self-awareness that define the material. We meet a man (played by Pedro Pascal) at a Philadelphia dive bar, holding the vital briefcase in a death grip and eyeing the entrance—or the exit, depending on his plan—with anticipatory terror.

In a matter of a minute or so, this guy finds himself trapped in a dark alley, confronted by a trio of toughs, and facing his imminent demise. One of the assassin's weapons, by the way, is a Swiss Army knife, and while the killing might be grisly, one can almost sense a demented smirk behind the camera when the killer flips up what's literally the screwiest function of that multi-tool.

Our seemingly hapless and unlikely protagonists are friends Jamie (Margaret Qualley) and Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan). Both are lesbians, and each is as different from the other as is possible. Jamie, with a thick Texas drawl and a thin comprehension of responsibility, is a free spirit, first seen in bed with a woman who's very much enjoying the experience (It's refreshing that Coen realizes sex in the movies can be fun, funny, and, well, sexy). The other woman, though, isn't her current romantic partner, who calls in the heat of Jamie's present moment, and Jamie, too caught up in it to think any better, lets the indiscretion slip immediately.

Meanwhile, Marian is a buttoned-up office worker and very particular about everything. She tells Jamie that she's becoming angry about work and life in general (An awkward scene with a man at her job trying to set up a date with Marian is funny on its own and maybe a bit funnier when we realize this is what she looks like when she's angry). It's time for a getaway to visit an aunt in Tallahassee, and since Jamie is currently without a residence after being kicked out by her now-ex, she accepts an offer to tag along that Marian doesn't make.

Yes, it's the story of a road trip, but the kicker is that Jamie and Marian take a drive-away car (Basically, a one-way rental vehicle that's provided by someone who wants the car delivered to a destination without having to make the trip). By complete coincidence and with perfect timing, the two end up with the car containing the briefcase and a hatbox, which has something other than a hat that would fit perfectly inside it.

As long as they make it to Tallahassee by the end of the following day, nothing will go wrong for the deal they're unaware of or for them. Since the irresponsibly free-wheeling Jamie's in that car, things don't go according to anyone's plan.

The rest of the story is that brand of complex but off-kilter crime story that has partially defined Coen's career (This is his first solo effort as a director, following a long filmmaking partnership with his brother, and it's intriguing to potentially have his stamp on those previous films distilled to its essence in this one). There are assorted twists, mostly defined by who these characters are and how they behave, and turns, which have to do with what's inside the case and why so many people want the contents. The real fun of the film, though, is this collection of characters, who are either too smart to know what to do in such a situation or too dumb to realize they're not as smart as they need to be under the circumstances.

Whatever the case may be, the cast here is completely attuned to the tonal requirements of the material. In addition to Qualley (a perky delight) and Viswanathan (fully committed to being the deadpan foil), some of the other actors include Colman Domingo, as a kind of underboss who needs the goods delivered to his higher-up, and Bill Camp, as the drive-away operation's owner whose blunt attitude gets him into trouble (leading to a moment of almost existential angst that's one of the better of some solid punch lines). As mirrors to Jamie and Marian, Joey Slotnick and C.J. Wilson play a pair of mismatched goons who have been tasked with tracking the women and regularly meet their match—never more hilariously than when they attempt to strong-arm Jamie's ex, played by Beanie Feldstein.

Apart from a gradually developing and surprisingly sweet shift between our protagonists, the jokes are pretty much non-stop in Drive-Away Dolls. They're good—sometimes great—ones, too, but it's Coen's dedication to the oddball and the film's sense of momentum that ensures the humor lands as well as it does.

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