In the flawless, stainless neo-noir Blood Simple, the 1984 directorial debut of Joel and Ethan Coen and the acting debut of Joel’s soon-to-be wife Frances McDormand, a character clandestinely commits a murder in the back room of a Texas bar—an act that sets off a chain reaction of suspicion, guilt, and brutal coverups. In the background, on the bar wall, hangs a clever prop which will reappear numerous times throughout the film: a sign mandating that all employees wash their hands before returning to work—a bit of realistic décor as much as a harbinger of the ramifications to come, for its calling to mind the futile hand-washing hallucinations of Lady Macbeth after she and her husband kill the king of Scotland. In Blood Simple, as in Macbeth, murder is a permanently dirty act, and trying to wipe it away is not only impossible, but also leads to a much greater, much dirtier mess.

Joel Coen’s gorgeous new film, The Tragedy of Macbeth, can be read as a kind of return to Blood Simple, all these years later—it is a co-production between him and McDormand, who plays Lady Macbeth, and for this and many other reasons, it feels a little like an anniversary. But crucially, Macbeth is Joel Coen’s first feature film made without collaborating with his brother, and so it also is a kind of debut. As Blood Simple was for the brothers in 1984, Macbeth is a demonstration of a groundbreaking, brand-new filmmaking perspective. It is also, as with Blood Simple—which is a reworking of The Postman Always Rings Twice, itself a kind of reworking of Macbeth—a starkly fresh take on a story we’ve seen played before us over and over again.

Watching The Tragedy of Macbeth
is seeing old lovers in a new way
for the first time.

Watching The Tragedy of Macbeth is seeing old lovers in a new way for the first time. Lady Macbeth and her husband (a steely, bearded Denzel Washington) are in their sixties, longtime courtiers, longtime partners. Coen—who in addition to directing wrote the screenplay and co-edited the film—has drawn attention to every line in Macbeth that underscores how the central couple is childless. He moves one of Macbeth’s soliloquies, in which he acknowledges his childlessness as he is deciding to kill his friend Banquo, to a subsequent scene with Lady Macbeth.

With this newfound dialogue, Macbeth reminds his wife of their childless life; when he reflects, “Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown / And put a barren sceptre in my gripe / Thence to be wrench’d with an unlineal hand / No son of mine succeeding,” the camera catches a close-up shot of McDormand, whose heretofore tough exterior melts for a moment. She nods slightly, sadly, even shamefully when she hears these words—sharing the pain that her husband admits to her.

ADAPTATION NEWS

FX has given a series order to Kindred, an adaptation of Octavia E. Butler’s iconic 1979 novel • AMC and Don Cheadle are developing a series adaptation of Wesley Lowery’s 2017 nonfiction book They Can’t Kill Us All: The Story of the Struggle for Black Lives • Rupert Friend and Richard Ayoade have joined the all-star cast of Netflix and Wes Anderson’s movie adaptation of Roald Dahl’s The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar (a “significant part” of the proceeds will fund an anti-racist trust, possibly in response to Dahl’s antisemitism) • Paramount Pictures has landed the rights to Tomi Adeyemi’s bestselling Children of Blood and Bone trilogy • Lil Rel Howery is set to join Zachary Levi in Sony Pictures’ live-action adaptation of Harold and the Purple Crayon • Winter’s Bone author Daniel Woodrell’s Bayou Trilogy of crime novels is getting the TV treatment • Mark Ruffalo and Hugh Laurie have joined the cast of Netflix’s All The Light We Cannot See, a four-part limited series adaptation of Anthony Doerr’s Pulitzer Prize-winning bestseller • Anne Hathaway will star in the film adaptation of Ottessa Moshfegh’s 2016 novel, Eileen

THE UNINTENTIONAL COMEDY OF TRUE DETECTIVE: SEASON 2

Has there ever been a season of Very Serious Television more unfairly maligned, more tragically misunderstood, than the second installment of Nic Pizzolatto’s anthology crime drama? I love everything about this gloriously overwrought, swing-for-the-fences train wreck of a sophomore effort. I love it when tortured police detective Ray Velcoro (Colin Farrell, sporting a mustache that deserves its own SAG card) beats the piss out of his son’s bully’s father on the poor man’s suburban doorstep in the middle of the day. I love it when tortured crime boss Frank Semyon (Vince Vaughn) utters maxims like “Never do anything out of hunger, not even eating,” with a straight face. I love the lengths to which tortured California Highway Patrol Officer Paul Woodrugh (Taylor Kitsch) is willing to go to cover up the fact that he’s gay, even though it’s, like, 2015 and he seems to have no real friends, relatives, or colleagues, so it’s hard to know who exactly would care either way. More than anything, though, I just love the writing; the absolutely bananas lines these extremely famous actors are forced to speak in almost every scene. Don’t ask me to recall the plot of TDS2 because a) it makes no sense, and b) it’s not important. What’s important is that Pizzolatto, in his hubris, wrote the most unintentionally hilarious season of dour prestige television ever.

–Dan Sheehan, Book Marks Editor-in-Chief