What galls me most about this movie specifically and the Coen brothers' movies generally is that they all reveal the insipidness of both the Coens and their fans. What they can't achieve with excellent dialogue, well-spun stories, and logical continuity in plotting, the Coens make up for via blood, lust, more blood, and then more blood. Vanquished from their movies is any sense of humanity or hope, and we are left in what I can best describe as a "bleakscape" - where the great positive is the presence of so much that is negative. I do delight, however, in the spectacle of reading swooning fans' fawning tributes to the Coens' "films" (and yes, their fans will watch only "films").

Utterly unbelievable in the bleak, depressing, and joyless tableaux they offer, the Coen films are the perfect answer to a society full of soulless narcissists.