‘NOBODY KNOWS ANYBODY . . . NOT THAT WELL,’ GROWLS GABRIEL BYRNE IN WHAT IS PERHAPS THE COENS’ MOST COMPLEX FILM.
Owing a debt of inspiration to the work of Dashiell Hammett, Miller’s Crossing uses a classically contorted gangster narrative to muse pessimistically upon the key themes of ‘friendship, character, and ethics.’ At the centre of the maelstrom is Tom Regan (Byrne), whose allegiances to various corrupt politicians and ruthless gang bosses are as unfathomable as the Coen brothers themselves. Boasting the most finely wrought of the Coens’ scripts, Miller’s Crossing assaults the ears with a barrage of ingenious dialogue, interrupted frequently by the almost indistinguishable rattle of machine-gun fire. Yet for all its verbal intricacies, the film is more remarkable still for its haunting visual imagery. Heavily laden with portentous symbolism—most notably, a hat floating serenely through the eponymous leafy glade—the film frequently challenges the viewer to abandon logical interpretation and succumb to the voyeuristic magic of its imagery.