The Light-Hearted Hermeneutics of 'Hail, Caesar!'

Tuesday, 29 March 2016, 4:48 pm
Article: Howard Davis

Despite rave reviews in both 'Variety' and 'The New Yorker,' 'Hail, Caesar!' is a box-office dud, costing an estimated $22 million, but only grossing $29 million in the US since its 2015 release. Like many Coen brothers films, however, beneath its frantic and farcical surface is an underlying level of serious concern about such issues as faith and belief, trust and loyalty, appearance vs. reality, and the deeper philosophical question of authority - all bound up in the nature of story-telling itself.

This issue of authority is most clearly enunciated during the scene when Baird Whitlock (George Clooney) and his communist kidnappers discuss the relationship between the head and the body - the bosses and the workers - and eventually agree that they're for "the little guy." Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin), the Capitol Pictures Studio fixer who tries to solve everyone's problems, best embodies this paradoxical dichotomy. Although he provides daily reports to Nick Schenck, the studio head in New York who's never seen (both names are those of a real-life fixer and head of MGM), he also has another 'off-screen' boss. In fact, he's so concerned about his personal redemption that he goes to confession on a daily basis.

Thus authority is directly connected with trust and faith - perhaps most explicitly in the film's funniest scene when a Catholic priest, a Jewish rabbi, a Protestant Minister, and a Greek Orthodox priest discuss whether the film-within-a-film 'Hail Caesar' treats the topic of Christ's suffering with sufficient respect. Their answers are all over the map - unity is division, division is unity, Christ is God, or a man who is the Son of God, or both, or neither. They are all inordinately impressed by the mere mention of Baird's name because they immediately realise his fame will lend 'authority' to the production.

When Hobie Doyle (Alden Ehrenreich) discusses Baird's kidnapping with Mannix, he expresses another view on authority. For Hobie, it's the extras who are the least trustworthy because they aren't invested in their work. Everyone else on the crew is a vital part of the film, but extras come and go. Mannix reinforces this idea when he slaps Baird around the face, telling him that even moving pictures have value and, so long as he can do good work in service to the studio, his actions will have value too. The 'film-within-a-film' echoes this theme: it has the same title as the actual film we're watching, but there's no Caesar (authority is absent, but felt); and the unseen actor playing Christ (who's body we never see) isn't sure whether he should consider himself an extra or a principal.

Most of the characters are depicted in terms of how much 'head' or 'body' they display. Hobie is almost pure 'body' - he does whatever he's told, dating the actress and playing against type when instructed. At a critical moment, however, he recognizes the attache case with the ransom money and takes immediate action to save Baird, suggesting that 'bodies' aren't simply slaves with no sense of initiative. In fact, they're very good at physical tasks, albeit on the level of performing rope tricks, riding horses, or playing guitar.

Mannix, in contrast, lives mostly in his head - worried about not spending enough time with his kids, feeling guilty about smoking, his tendency to violence, etc. Though apparently cynical, he's also concerned about doing "the right thing" - not only the best he can, but also not taking shortcuts (like the lucrative Lockheed job which promises to set him up for the rest of his life). This is illustrated in his final confession, when he asks the priest whether it's right or wrong to do what comes easily. He decides to stay at the studio because it makes him feel part of a functioning system, something larger than himself in the grand scheme of things. The story thus pivots around the subjects of authority as they struggle to find their way in a complicated world of conflicting and muddled direction.

The montage when Mannix visits the strangely de Chirico-like set at night and Hobie rescues Baird is provides the crux of the movie. Michael Gambon's beautifully modulated Alfred Hitchcock/Rod Sterling omniscient voice-over explains how much Mannix enjoys being physically present on the set, because "actions have meaning when they are in service to the picture." This is when Mannix has his epiphany, deciding to decline the offer from Lockheed because he finally realizes the reason he's an effective studio fixer is that he truly believes in the pictures he makes.

'Hail, Caesar!' light-heartedly investigates such important questions about the human condition, exploring how we express ideas to ourselves and to others. It suggests that it's our shared beliefs that authentically connects us to others, which in turn grants them an authority that empowers us to act. Mannix tries to quit smoking because he made a promise to his wife and this belief in his marriage inspires him to try making positive changes in his life. Instead of a simple plot device, this could be considered more complexly as "the expression (or manifestation) of an internal concept," a problem that obsessed Wittgenstein in his later writings.

Baird personifies this problem and it's what makes him such an amusing and frustrating character. He's perfect at expressing other people's ideas precisely because he's incapable of holding any of them in his own head. Whether it's a matter of pretending to be a centurion or proselytizing about Communism, he's ready at a moment's notice. He's a blank slate, simply reflecting other people's ideas, but at the same time giving them weight and authority. And yet this 'empty vessel' is widely respected, unifying the religious leaders not only because he can express ideas outwardly, but also because he experiences them inwardly. Every time Baird fumbles his sword it reminds us he can't even remove a prop without being told to do so - he's simply there to take direction. Contrast his actions with the duplicitous Burt Gurney (Channing Tatum), who certainly isn't what he seems and doesn't convince anyone of anything because his self-deception keeps getting in the way. Burt expresses one idea, while thinking another - whether he's flitting around in the homoerotic tap-dancing scene, betraying his country, or dropping a bag of cash in the ocean for the sake of his pooch.

While this play between appearance and reality provides one thread in the movie, another concerns the competing belief systems of capitalism and Christianity. Max Weber delineated how the ethics of Protestantism (working hard and denying pleasure to earn a place in the after-life) laid the groundwork for capitalism in industrialized western societies (working hard and denying pleasure to make more money). More than one scene is devoted to a discussion of Marxist theory, clearly explaining how Hollywood is an ideological arm of capitalism producing vast profits for the bosses.

Loyalty (or fealty, both closely related to faith in authority) is another important thread. As mentioned earlier, Mannix devoutly checks in with Schenk every day and ultimately decides to stay at the studio. Hobie displays loyalty by taking direction, going on a blind date arranged by his boss, which leads to Baird's rescue. Burt and the subversive screenwriters are loyal to the communist cause. Tilda Swinton's dual role as twin gossip columnists involves loyalty to her readers, since they are assumed authorities upon whom their readers depend for the inside scoop. Even the deeply cynical Joseph ("it's my job") Silverman is willing to take one for the team.

When actors get confused about their roles, they look to some authority for direction and when that direction is itself confusing (e.g. Ralph Fiennes' wonderful turn as Laurence Laurentz), they're forced to arrive at their own conclusions about how best to act. Whenever an over-elaborate scheme complicates how we act or what we do, there's an increased chance that things will go off track - and in this movie, they invariably do. The pervading irony is that, even as further complications arise, eventually things will get sorted out, often in ways that are beyond the direct control of the people expected to find the solution. Another example is Mannix' complicated plan for fixing DeAnna Moran's baby problem, which is resolved much more simply by DeAnna (Scarlett Johansson) and Silverman in a way that no one anticipates.

Many of the 'little guys' sacrifice themselves for the greater good: Frances McDormand's Thelma Ritter-type editor (improbably chain-smoking among all the silver nitrate film stock) almost chokes to death on her moviola providing a solution to the 'simplicity' dilemma in the cutting room; Hobie dates the Hispanic Carmen Miranda-like actress and breaks off the dinner when he sees Burt with the attache case full of cash; Silverman conveniently marries DeAnna. All the main characters are also faced with complex problems, but no one gives up and everyone tries to do their best, even when beset by doubts or lack of faith. Baird, Hobie, and Burt all sincerely ask their directors if what they're doing is good enough - a simple metaphor about asking for forgiveness when we fail and trusting in some kind of divine redemption.

However, 'Hail, Caeser!' isn't just a simple pastiche of Old Hollywood styles. It's also a complicated homage to the magic of classical movie-making. DeAnna's Esther Williams/Busby Berkeley aquatic ballet, Burt's 'On The Town' tap-dancing scene, and Hobie's equestrian antics and cowpoke singing are all exquisitely and lovingly rendered. The related phrases "would that it were so simple" and "it's complicated" force us to compare and contrast them. "It's complicated" is a simple way of saying "would that it were so simple," while "would that it were so simple" is a complicated way of saying "it's complicated." The simple phrase uses the word "complicated" and the complicated phrase uses the word "simple." Thus the two phrases each contain their opposites - and maybe both are possible.

The narrative arcs of classic Hollywood movies generally pose a series of problems (or complications) that need to be solved (or simplified). Flawed characters have to use their own judgement in the moment to make decisions. 'Hail,Caesar!' provides a comic perspective on how we all try to negotiate our own way through this mess, which often manages to turn out for the best, sometimes with unintended and amusing results. The Coen's don't editorialize about whether those with or without faith choose the best options. We all have to make up our own minds, using whatever degree of knowledge and judgement we possess, combined with whatever guidance and direction we're given in life. This process of negotiation can frequently be both complicated and simple and usually produces a quite miraculous "happy ending" - which is precisely the point at which the "magic" of Hollywood movies most requires us to suspend our disbelief.

NOTE - I'm indebted to several eagle-eyed exegetes on the IMDB discussion board for this extended analysis. I've merely attempted to refine, clarify, and develop their original insights.

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Howard Davis

Scoop Arts Editor

Educated at Cambridge and UCLA; worked on several major Hollywood feature films and as a Kundalini Yoga instructor in Los Angeles; currently enjoying life in Wellington.

Contact Howard Davis

• Email - howard@scoop.co.nz