The Man with the Hat

Whenever my son Joe visits home, he brings with him movies that he wants to see or enjoys seeing again -- in the makeshift theater he built years ago in our basement. The other night, Joe and I -- along with my wife Camille and Joe's partner Olivia Gatwood -- watched (or rewatched, in Joe's and my case) the Coen Brothers 1990 masterpiece, Miller's Crossing. Yes, perhaps The Big Lebowski is a superior Coen movie. And yes, The Godfather remans the Great American Movie. But Miller's Crossing -- on the fourth or fifth watching -- is truly one of the all-time greats. A dark comedy about male honor and betrayal. About the ruthlessness of love.

And oh what a gorgeous musical score by Carter Burwell. By far his best work. It drenches the film in epic splendor, in Celtic-tinged, minor-key wistfulness and longing.

Afterwards, we watched the Criterion "extra" interview with the Coens. They're older and grayer now (after looking impossibly young and shaggy when they shot their film, on the back streets of New Orleans, it turns out). The Coens, led by a rather clueless interviewer, spent most of the time talking about their influences (Hammett, Chandler, Cain). But the the truth is they went beyond these literary masters with Miller's Crossing. It reminds you of how ambitious moviemaking once was.

And oh Gabriel Byrne! The biggest lingering mystery of the film is why he didn't become a superstar. He commands the camera with his intelligence and his crooked-nose beauty. I've read Byrne's two memoirs (he's also a deeply gifted writer) -- and I'm still mystified why he rose only so high in the movie pantheon.

But Miller's Crossing was his -- and maybe the Coens' -- greatest moment. If you haven't seen it, treat yourself. Or if you've already watched it, view it again. You'll be swept away once more.

Gabriel Byrne in Miller’s Crossing