Honey, Don’t! is the second in what filmmakers Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke have described as a “lesbian exploitation B-movie trilogy.” On the merits of Honey and the duo’s previous feature, Drive-Away Dolls (2024), the exploitation relates to the B-movie element rather than the lesbianism. Honey, Don’t!, which is now streaming, received a drudging from critics, with a 47 percent critics score and even lower 40 percent audience score on Rotten Tomatoes. However, it’s the sort of peculiar, knowingly silly, downright fun adult thriller that’s hardly made (well) anymore. At just 89 minutes, it’s one of the best streaming choices you’ll make all week.
Vintage Coen Brothers, with a Twist
It’s a caper in the tradition of the Coen brothers’ wackiest features (think Raising Arizona or Burn After Reading), though Joel Coen, Ethan’s brother and frequent collaborator up until several years ago, was not involved with Honey, Don’t! Instead, Coen wrote the film with his wife, Tricia Cooke, with whom he also wrote Drive-Away Dolls. The original title of that film was Drive-Away Dykes before it was changed for promotional reasons; the on-screen title is Henry James’ Drive-Away Drykes, which is a perfect indication of what Coen and Cook are going for with the tone of this trilogy.
Coen and Cooke share two children, though Cooke identifies as queer and both have separate romantic partners. Cooke, who edited several of the Coen brothers’ most famous films, including Fargo (1996), The Big Lebowski (1998), and O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000), before pivoting to a writing career, said that she and Coen wrote their trilogy in the ‘90s. They never really intended to make them, but a collaboration on the documentary Jerry Lee Lewis: Trouble In Mind (2022) during the pandemic spurred them to find ways to spend more time together. Lo and behold, the “lesbian exploitation B-movie trilogy” was born. And thank goodness it was, because it’s a delight to see a movie these days as weird and unexpected as this one.
A Throwback ’90s Thriller
Honey, Don’t! is a bit more serious in tone than Dolls, though it’s by no means an effort to provoke serious discussion. Blessedly, it seems intended as nothing more than a fun night out at the movies (or in on the couch), the sort of straightforward thriller which may not linger forever in the memory but will provide plenty of fun “ooh!” and “aah!” moments while watching. Dolls star Margaret Qualley is the titular private investigator, who occupies a humdrum office in Bakersfield, California. She’s called to the scene of a fatal car wreck, where the victim bears lacerations inconsistent with a car accident. A local cop (Charlie Day) offers Honey operational info in a bid to bed her. “I like girls,” she tells him on more than one occasion. “You always say that!” he chimes back, each time, with bemused disbelief.
Honey’s investigation leads her to the Four-Way Church, really just a cult presided over by the creepy Reverend Drew (a very game and very funny Chris Evans), who often engages in the activity for which his church is named. Reverend Drew is also running a drug operation from his house of worship, which involves the enigmatic, scooter-riding, and often topless mercenary Chére (Lera Abova). Chére works for “the French,” who aren’t too pleased with the Reverend. As increasingly grisly murders leave a trail of mutilated bodies around Bakersfield, Honey must enlist the help of local cop and sometimes-lover MG Falcone (Aubrey Plaza, effectively against type) to weed out the culprit.
Honey, Don’t! Trusts Its Audience, For Better and Worse
Honey, Don’t! is a strange concoction, but is mostly the better for it. It’s understandable that audiences expecting a more straightforward thriller would be put off by a narratively ambiguous dark comedy featuring bursts of shockingly explicit violence and some fairly graphic, though not exploitative, scenes of intimacy between Qualley and Plaza. The film’s taken some flack for what some have perceived to be a man’s view of sexuality, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Those scenes are shot frankly, with a clear intention towards truth rather than titillation. The queer representation here is refreshingly positive and authentic. (On the other hand, Pine’s scenes opposite his disciples are, while not exploitative either, played for baroque comedy which earn the actor endless credit for fearlessness.)
Like many of the Coen brothers’ movies, but more so than Drive-Away Dolls, some major events either occur off camera or are left hanging in the air, leaving the audience to do a certain amount of work. Some may see that as a narrative flaw, but it’s actually a vote of confidence from the filmmakers in their audience. It’s sort of a lost art in modern movies, and should be celebrated rather than maligned. This is the perfect answer to anodyne streaming thrillers and anonymous theatrical potboilers which seem to follow the same trajectory regardless of title, cast, etc. Even if it packs a few too many characters and ideas into its slim running time, and unravels its climax with too much brevity, Honey, Don’t! deserves ample praise for daring to be its own beast. It’s brazenly original, combining elements of ‘80s slashers as well as ‘90s capers and queer romances. It’s a singular beast, and a great deal of fun.
