O Brother, Where Art Thou?: A Shot at Redemption
Recently, there has been a lot of buzz about the Christopher Nolan adaptation of The Odyssey. Despite my love for the film and the tradition that the epic carries, I was seemingly less impressed with it than most others. Christopher Nolan—and this is a hot take so get ready—always finds a way to make great stories feel a little flat and boring. Don’t worry, I did like Oppenheimer, but that’s the only film of his that has particularly impressed me.
Luckily for me—and you if you feel the same—there’s already been a remarkable film adaptation of The Odyssey.
O Brother, Where Art Thou?, the 2000 film directed by Ethan and Joel Coen, is a somewhat modern retelling of the story of The Odyssey. Our protagonist, Ulysses Everett McGill (George Clooney), and his crew, Pete (John Turturro) and Delmar (Tim Blake Nelson), go on a long journey to reunite Everett with his wife and fight off her suitor to reclaim his place at home. Along the way, they receive a prophecy, run into sirens, and even fight a cyclops. But most interestingly, all of this takes place within rural Mississippi during the Great Depression. Everett and his crew are escaped convicts from a chain gang, the prophecy is given by a blind man on a railroad car, the sirens are women who seduce and rob them, and the cyclops is just a KKK member with an eyepatch. The fact that this movie works so well within this setting is a testament to how malleable and universal the story and themes of The Odyssey are—namely, the theme of redemption.
When analyzing The Odyssey for LitHum last year, it was hard for me to stray from the through-line of redemption throughout the work. Odysseus, along the course of his years-long journey, tames his hubris (seen on display during the encounter with the Cyclops) and returns home humbled as a literal beggar. Both Telemachus (Odysseus’ son) and Odysseus have to mature to redeem their bloodline from the dishonor brought upon it by the suitors. This redemption is a central theme of the epic, one which all adaptations of it have to tackle. Likewise, redemption is a central theme to the Coen Brothers’ works. In fact, they have a somewhat unorthodox belief on the idea of redemption itself.
It is not real.
The Coen brothers are somewhat notorious for their cynical style; many of their films highlight that we have little to no control over the cards we are dealt in life. In just about every film of theirs, there is some scheme from our down-and-out protagonist to raise their status in the world and to find a better life. Look at Fargo, for instance, which tells the story of a man who pays two strangers to kidnap his wife (so they can extort his father-in-law to enrich themselves). The plan spirals out of control due to the sheer stupidity of it, but also the self-destructive tendencies of the protagonist. Inside Llewyn Davis is another great film of theirs and perhaps their bleakest. Llewyn (Oscar Isaac) is a poor folk singer who can’t get ahead, and no matter how hard he tries, no matter how many plans he makes, he ends up in a cycle of failure due to his own personality, but also horrible luck out of his own control. The film ends with Llewyn in the same place as the same man he was at the beginning; there is no redemption. Most of their characters end up this way; instead of rising to the moment or being redeemed from their past mistakes, they end up the same as the beginning, if not a little worse off. The Big Lebowski has this sameness in abundance. The Dude (Jeff Bridges) never changes at all; he loses a friend and just goes back to bowling in perpetuity. Of course, in my personal favorite of their work, No Country for Old Men, the hero is killed off halfway through, not by the antagonist but in a simple twist of fate. The antagonist Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) also has a philosophy which backs his actions: people’s fates being decided by a coin toss, something completely out of their control. In the Coens’ eyes, the cards you are dealt and the place the world gives you is all that you have—there is no breaking out of it, there is no redemption.
This is not so in O Brother, Where Art Thou?.
Early in the film’s runtime and shortly after escaping from prison, the gang runs into an almost Biblical scene: dozens of people dressed in white singing a song and being baptized in the river. Delmar desperately runs into the water and gets baptized by the pastor, saying, “Well, that’s it boys, I been redeemed. The preacher done warshed away all my sins and transgressions. It’s the straight and narrow from here on out, and heaven everlastin’s my reward!” Pete, apparently convinced by this, runs in after him with only Everett remaining unbaptized, feeling as if he is above the silly superstition of man,“Baptism! You two are just dumber than a bag of hammers.” This moment is played for laughs in the film, but Pete and Delmar treat it with the utmost sincerity. From this point on, Pete and Delmar never commit another crime.
For all intents and purposes, they have been spiritually redeemed. Everett on the other hand lies, steals, and continues his no-good ways. Everett remains this way until he is finally reunited with his wife. Following this scene she spurns him for his behavior and he realizes that if he wants to win his wife back, he needs redemption. Though still arrogant, Everett uncharacteristically and selflessly ends up saving Pete and a friend of theirs named Tommy (Chris Thomas King) from captivity and lynching. After showing off his newfound honor—and talent for singing—his wife agrees to get back with him if he can retrieve their ring from a valley that is set to be flooded the next day.
Everett, Pete, and Delmar all ship out to the valley only to find the law waiting there for them. They are strung up and set to be hanged when Everett begins to pray, “Let me see my daughters again Lord. Help us, please.” Just at that moment, their divine intervention arrives, and a great flood sweeps the valley, saving the crew while drowning the lawmen. After they are saved, Everett is quick to backtrack on the sincerity of his prayer and the miraculousness of the flood. However, he has, whether he believes it or not, been washed clean of his transgressions and finally baptized.
What puzzled me upon viewing the film was: why? Going into it, I understood the Coens’ cynical beliefs on whether or not people can change and expected something along the lines of that. Much to my surprise, I was wrong. So why would they make this departure from their usual style? Why did they change their outlook for one movie? After racking my brain over some answers, it finally hit me: this story, as much as it is set in the South and the Christian tradition, is also set in the tradition of the Greeks, of myth. This film is not a portrayal of what the Coens believe, but an attempt to align itself with its inspiration, The Odyssey and the Southern Bible belt, an epic and a region which firmly believes in a road to redemption. This film does not lie outside or contradict the beliefs of the Coen brothers; in fact, in its roundabout way, it affirms them. Redemption might be possible in The Odyssey, or in various forms of spirituality, but it does not exist in the world in which we live. In this world, you are what you are.
That may be well and good for the Coens, but I prefer to believe in something different.
That no matter the opinions of others, change is possible, redemption is always a possibility, and learning and growing from our mistakes is a requirement of a good life. I am not sure which is truer; perhaps the Coens align more with the evidence of the world around us, but I will continue to believe in a shot at redemption.
Bibliography
Brother, Where Art Thou? Directed by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, Universal Pictures, 2000.
Samuel Dameron is a Junior at Columbia College studying History. He is a staff writer for Double Exposure and in his free time he enjoys biking, yearning, a good book, and working out.