Professor G.H. Dorr (Hanks) is looking for "a room to let" when he shows up on the doorstep of one Marva Munson (Irma P. Hall). Dorr is a polite Southern gentleman displaying mannerisms and diction more suitable to a Civil War-era inhabitant than a modern-day man. He charms his way into Marva's root cellar where, he claims, he and his four cohorts will practice church music on their antique instruments.
As it turns out, Dorr is a scheming crook looking to tunnel his way from the cellar to a nearby gambling boat, where a large bounty awaits. His gang includes a foul-mouthed janitor from the casino (Marlon Wayans), a demolitions expert with Irritable Bowel Syndrome (J.K. Simmons), a silent and evil Asian man with a Hitler mustache (Tzi Ma) and a man-child football player they just call Lump (Ryan Hurst). Together, they form one of the more massively incompetent bands of thieves to grace the screen since John Goodman and William Forsythe knocked over a hayseed bank in another Coen movie, Raising Arizona.
This is broad comedy with a capital "B," and it will undoubtedly turn a few people off when Hanks starts one of his lengthy, Edgar Allan Poe-inspired monologues. Coen fans have witnessed this sort of extreme bizarre caricature before (Jeff Bridges in The Big Lebowski, Nicolas Cage in Raising Arizona), and it's the kind of comedy that requires a little patience. Those who sat stone-faced during O Brother, Where Art Thou? might find themselves equally perturbed. Those who can't get enough of the Coen comic universe--in which the world is a lavish cartoon rife with visually imaginative sight gags and exaggerated mannerisms--will find themselves laughing hard.
This film, which marks the first time Ethan Coen takes an official director's credit alongside brother Joel, gets the brothers back on track after last year's slight misstep, Intolerable Cruelty. That divorce comedy, although based on their original script, felt like a copy--a rehash of old movie plots and done-to-death comic set pieces. Oddly enough, their Ladykillers re-make feels as fresh and original as anything the siblings have done.
Give Hanks credit for committing to a bizarre characterization and never letting up. He hasn't had a chance to disappear into a role like this since Forrest Gump, and he grabs the proverbial bull by the horns. Hall is an unstoppable elderly force as the woman who wants no "hippity-hop" in her house, and Simmons, so scary as the white supremacist on HBO's Oz, shows a gift for droll comedy. Wayans finally delivers on the promising talent he displayed in Requiem for a Dream, essentially doing a more-relaxed riff on his character from Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood.
The above mentioned garbage boats are part of an oft-repeated joke that never loses its hilarity. Thanks to cinematographer Roger Deakins (shooting his eighth Coen film), objects being thrown off a bridge toward these boats have a tragic beauty that is much befitting the quirky film. The Ladykillers has a legitimate shot at being this year's funniest movie, and the only one with an English Bulldog wearing a gas mask.