Want something sexy, silly, and scandalous? Then you’ll treasure Honey Don’t!, the latest collaboration between married filmmakers Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke. The pair, who’ve been collaborating since the 1990 Coen Bros movie Miller’s Crossing, brought audiences the madcap mayhem of Drive-Away Dolls just last year. Now they’re back, with another tale of lesbians caught up in a curious crime. 

Drive-Away Dolls star Margaret Qualley reunites with Coen and Cooke, playing a title character once more. Honey O’Donahue is a small-town private eye who keeps her cards close to her chest. When a new client turns up dead in a suspicious car crash, she quips to the crumpled police detective on the scene (Charlie Day, perfectly cast as an affable dope), but won’t give up a single observation. Unspoken, this is her mystery to solve. 

Over the course of this murder investigation, she’ll cross paths with a moped-riding femme fatale (Lera Abova), a surly sapphic cop (Aubrey Plaza), and an ultra-vain cult leader (Chris Evans). It’s a wild ride with twists, sex, and murder! 

Margaret Qualley is dynamite in Honey Don’t!

While this is the second offering in Coen and Cooke’s proposed lesbian trilogy, Honey Don’t! doesn’t share the same broad-comedy energy as its peppy predecessor, Drive-Away Dolls. The key to both films is Qualley, who sets the tone.

In the first film, she was a chaotically comical masc with a Southern accent as thick as molasses and a libido as powerful as the sun. The movie followed her frenzied energy through pacing and plotting, taking wild turns with madcap energy. 

In Honey Don’t!, Qualley shakes off the loony looseness of her limbs. Her stride is confident but no-nonsense, like the fast-talking dames of ’30s screwball comedies and ’40s film noir. Her look — click-clacking heels, pencil skirts or tailored flowing slacks with tidy but never bland dress shirts — reflects these old-school inspirations. So does her frankness; she carries a Katharine Hepburn attitude without the Mid-Atlantic accent. So when the aforementioned police detective flirts with her, she says, smooth as butter, “I like girls.” (To which Day replies with a cheery bemusement, “You always say that!”) 

Whether playing the cool gay aunt to a small army of nieces and nephews, uncovering a kinky clue, or hooking up with a one-night stand, Honey is suave and sharp, but also warm. This temperament sets her apart from the fleets of male detectives who’ve come before her, all swagger and steely glares. Plus, her attitude reflects the atmosphere of Honey Don’t!‘s setting: Bakersfield, California, a sunny place with a dark appetite.  

Honey Don’t! is a raw and refreshing caper. 

The screenplay by Coen and Cooke is committed to dark humor, offering gleeful jokes about kinky sex, gruesome death, and the general idiocy of crooks and con men.

As Coen directs Honey Don’t!, it’s tempting to look for comparisons in his shared filmography with his brother, Joel. Is Honey Don’t! more Raising Arizona or The Big Lebowski? Burn After Reading or No Country for Old Men? But engaging in this debate risks overlooking the exciting exploration of crime stories that Coen and Cooke are building with their trilogy. Her stamp is clear and important here as the film’s co-writer, producer, and editor.

Yes, Honey Don’t! pulls from film noir inspirations, as do several previous Coen Bros movies… and hundreds of other movies before that. But this crusty California setting gives fresh air to tropes like the femme fatale or the double cross. Where Drive-Away Dolls dug into the rich Americana and queer culture to be found in road trip attractions and lesbian bars, Honey Don’t! embraces a less-familiar clutch of gnarly characters, sunbaked and deranged.

Chris Evans is hilarious, freed from Disney constraints. 

Thank goodness that Chris Evans’ MCU era has ended. Now the actor who has proven to be a sensational bastard in Knives Out can cut loose with characters who aren’t remotely role models. 

In Honey Don’t!, he plays Reverend Drew, a preacher who leads a congregation of dedicated minions who will grant any wish of sex or violence his twisted heart desires. Honey Don’t! offers an array of beloved character actors, like Plaza, Day, Billy Eichner, and acclaimed theater performer Gabby Beans. And they are all game for whatever damned thing Cooke and Coen throw their way. Where Qualley plays the straight man to this cluster of kooky clowns, Evans is a ringmaster of his own circus. 

From the moment he flashes a comically insincere smile, there’s a thrill of excitement. Playing punchlines with a gleeful obliviousness, Evans creates a sharp satire of a certain brand of religious leader who believes too much in his own bullshit. His physicality is suitably absurd. Whether he’s barking orders in the nude or giving the most hysterical delivery of the word “oui” ever committed to screen, he moves like a cartoon caricature of an arrogant buffoon. Props to Evans for finding a new and fantastic way to continue being America’s ass. 

What’s most thrilling about Honey Don’t! is perhaps also what’s most frustrating about it. Coen and Cooke set up a mystery with a form that seems vaguely familiar at the start. But as Honey chases down the suspects and confounding clues, this story is anything but what you’d expect. And that comes down to the finale, which is sure to divide critics and audiences.

Personally, I relished the final surprise of the film, as it suggests this story is bigger than one movie and maybe even one setting can contain. Instead of closure, Honey Don’t! offers a taste of something sweet and wild, with the potential for more. And I’m not mad at that. 

Honey Don’t! was reviewed out of the Cannes Film Festival. It will open in theaters on Aug. 22.