‘Honey Don’t!’ is a chaotic, stylish neo-noir that refuses to play it straight

“Honey Don’t!”
R | 90 minutes
Directors: Ethan Coen
Writers: Ethan Coen, Tricia Cooke
Stars: Margaret Qualley, Aubrey Plaza, Chris Evans

In the sun-bleached, conservative community of Bakersfield, California, a Pontiac Firebird cuts through the dust and heat. Behind the wheel is Honey O’Donahue (Margaret Qualley), a private investigator with a husky voice, a quick wit and a low tolerance for nonsense. Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke’s “Honey Don’t!” is a wild neo-noir dark comedy that moves with a pace that never lets up once it gets going — a deliciously chaotic twist on genre conventions that is as refreshing as it is overstuffed.

From the opening credits — a brilliantly stylish sequence where the cast and crew’s names are painted onto the fading signage of rundown shops and juke joints — Coen and his co-writer (and wife) Cooke announce their intentions. They aren’t just visiting this world; they are taking up residence in its unattended wasteland. This is the second chapter in their unofficial “lesbian B-movie trilogy” after “Drive-Away Dolls,” and it fully leans into a playful, risqué sensibility that feels both nostalgic and entirely fresh. For a generation raised on the cult classics of the 1990s, “Honey Don’t!” channels the bold, edgy spirit of Tarantino, Ridley Scott and Coen’s earlier work while translating that energy for a modern audience without ever feeling like a cheap copy. 

At the heart of this whirlwind is Margaret Qualley’s performance. Honey is a masterful deconstruction of the hard-drinking, lone wolf detective archetype. Qualley owns the role completely, from the subtle yet stylish costuming to the rapid-fire, Chandler-esque dialogue she delivers with effortless cool. The genius of her performance lies in a central running joke: Honey might not actually be that good at her job. She is easily distracted, tries to talk clients out of hiring her, and would rather follow a pretty woman than a case file. Yet, her instincts are razor-sharp, and her resting interrogator face is a formidable weapon. The sexual tension she generates, particularly with the women around her, is palpable and a genuine delight to watch.

The film’s plot is something of a convoluted mess, a series of bizarre and unpredictable happenstances and characters that Coen joints are famous for. A suspicious car crash, a missing niece, a shady evangelical cult fronting as a drug ring, a cheating boyfriend, a grisly revenge cycle, and a French femme fatale on a Vespa all swirl around Honey. The primary villain is the Rev. Drew Devlin, played with sublime, sleazy charm by Chris Evans, who seems to gleefully continue his post-Marvel mission of shedding his Captain America image. Evans leans fully into the role of cult leader bro douche, preaching about pathways to the lord while incorporating dom/sub roleplaying into his sermons. He is a narcissistic predator, and his smarmy charisma is magnetically infuriating.

The supporting cast is a parade of perfectly pitched performances. Aubrey Plaza, as police officer MG, delivers her signature deadpan style infused with an emotional depth that makes her more than just another April Ludgate clone. Charlie Day provides excellent goofy relief as a smitten, bumbling and unofficial sidekick in the police force who can’t comprehend Honey’s sexuality, and Billy Eichner is a hoot in a brief but memorable role as a client Honey tries to talk out of his own investigation.

If “Honey Don’t!” stumbles, it is in its ambition. The film tries to jam too many moving parts into its lean, 90-minute runtime. While the intention to add depth to Honey’s character through her father and her niece’s home life is admirable, these elements feel underdeveloped and ultimately bog down the narrative momentum. The major twist and its resolution can come across as a rushed “OK, we gotta end it somehow” decision.

This is why the film feels like it would have been better served as a limited series. A longer format would have given Coen and Cooke the space to truly explore the themes they introduce, properly set up the ending, and allow the mystery and character dynamics to breathe without losing the fantastic pace of the best comedic scenes. The film is at its absolute best when it sticks to the mystery and the comedy — the sharp, witty exchanges and the bursts of hilariously nasty, Coen-esque violence.

Yet, even with these minor flaws, “Honey Don’t!” is an undeniable delight in mood and style. It’s gory, unapologetically sexual, quippy and darkly funny. It’s a feel-good movie precisely because it doesn’t try to be perfect; its chaos is part of its charm. ♦