Burn After Reading

Don't expect another Oscar-winning "think" movie from the Coen Brothers, Joel and Ethan, this year. Their newest movie is about dunderheads. Films like that don't win Oscars, but they do well at the box office. Case in point: the just-opened Burn After Reading recently bowed at No. 1.

With good reason: the story reaches back into the Coens' dark and playful toy chest, and pulls out a zany jack-in-the-box dark comedy. Just like the good ol' days. With a formidable cast (including perennial Frances McDormand and a playful Brad Pitt), the writing-producing-directing duo have returned to comfortable form.

Where to start? McDormand is Linda Litzke, an employee for a gym called Hardbodies, who is convinced she needs several cosmetic surgeries to be successful at online dating. The dates she meets in the park are usually schmucks, but one, Harry, looks just like George Clooney. Harry's unhappy in his marriage – which is why, in addition to online flings, he's having an affair with Katie Cox (Tilda Swinton, taking Narnia's White Witch down only a notch or two).

Katie's married to Osborne Cox (John Malkovich, in perhaps his most ideal role ever), a CIA agent who gets fired for alcoholism. In an effort to one-up him in a divorce battle, Katie snares supposedly top-secret documents, which get left behind in a Hardbodies gym locker – and into the hands of Linda and her ditzy co-worker Chad (Pitt).

This triggers a series of events that would be pointless to outline. Just rest assured that the deviants' paths cross in ways that might shock you. And, as with most Coen movies, this is achieved through quick bursts of graphic violence – which always seem designed to send unsuspecting Coen virgins in search of a nearby purse to barf in – and, of course, madcap hijinks.

Part spy spoof and part brooding satire, Burn After Reading seems like Get Smart, The Interpreter and Fargo all rolled into one. It's about as comfortable in its own skin as a 14-year-old before a school dance, but that's okay. It's just slick enough to seem original at times, and if you were in search of something deep, you probably would have set foot in a different theater.

McDormand, usually so controlled, is adorably dippy here, and Pitt stands out as Chad, a boytoy with a soda jerk 'do. He sucks H2O out of a water bottle like a three-year-old deflowering a lollipop, and his iPod dance moves might make you believe he's a fan of Miley Cyrus.

Malkovich has never been able to channel anger so beautifully, and a scene in which Osborne goes after an innocent bystander (Richard Jenkins) is both heartbreaking and hysterical. To boot, the CIA supervisors who fired him, played by David Rasche and J.K. Simmons, are woefully and uproariously indifferent.

Ah, but the real star of a Coen Bros. movie is usually the siblings themselves, and that rings true here. The frames are flickered with a knowing glint in the eyes behind the camera lens, in acknowledgement of how many idiots are running around out in the world, and with the hope that you are not one of them. B+