Honey Don’t (2025 | USA | Ethan Coen | 89 minutes)
Before the preview screening of Honey Don’t earlier this week, I stepped into the lobby for some popcorn and overheard two young women talking. One said, “The only reason I’m here is because of the lesbian sex.” Hilariously, she turned out to be one of the influencers with a reserved seat in the press section. I had to laugh afterwards — she was probably one of the few people who left the theater not underwhelmed by this movie.
Margaret Qualley stars as Honey O’Donohue, a Bakersfield, CA private investigator on a mission to uncover the suspicious circumstances behind a woman’s death just before their scheduled meeting. The case pulls her into the orbit of a shady church and its sleazy pastor, Reverend Drew (Chris Evans). Qualley is magnetic throughout, commanding attention with her rapid-fire PI cadence. This is absolutely her movie, and she almost saves it from itself. Almost.
Taken on its own, Honey Don’t might pass as a fine—if muddled and forgettable—neo-noir. But the names behind it raise expectations. This is the second feature (after Drive-Away Dolls) that Ethan Coen has made with his wife and collaborator Tricia Cooke, stepping into the creative space usually shared with his brother Joel. Honey Don’t is a Coen Brother movie, not a Coen Brothers movie, and that distinction matters: it lacks much of the charm and layered brilliance that made films like No Country for Old Men, O Brother, Where Art Thou?, and my personal favorite, Fargo, modern classics.
That said, the Coen DNA is still visible. How could it not be? The film brims with familiar trademarks, like the power dynamics of a man seated behind a desk. (Side note: the fact that there’s a website cataloging this trope is amazing.) Coen completists will no doubt flock to Honey Don’t—but casual viewers? Probably not.
The biggest problem is the plotting. It’s too convoluted for a film under 90 minutes, introducing characters and twists at an alarming pace that leaves no room to breathe. The result is a finale that doesn’t feel satisfying. Chris Evans is genuinely funny, but Aubrey Plaza—one of my favorite working actresses (and the reviews prove it)—is mostly wasted here, but her final scene is cool.
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Honey Don’t is now in theaters across the country.