The Ballad of Buster Scruggs (2018, Joel Coen & Ethan Coen) (Patreon)

Can't imagine this working nearly as well in serialized form—uneven though it is, there's definitely a cumulative power that'd be diminished were one to watch the stories separately, as opposed to having each one flow directly into the next via turning pages. I suspect that the lesser tales, in particular, would suffer rather than gain when seen in something closer to isolation (though there seems to be widespread disagreement regarding which are greater vs. lesser). My one overarching criticism is that blunt, nihilistic irony demands more in the way of methodical buildup than the first four mini-narratives provide. Was trying to figure out why I kept shrugging at short sharp shocks, and eventually found myself thinking of Kubrick's The Killing: I love that ending, but would I love it as the ending of a 20-minute short? Don't think it'd have remotely the same impact, and that's the fundamental issue here. 

Quick thoughts on each, in ascending order of preference:

Con

"Meal Ticket": Best example of what I noted above. Gutpunch of an ending is its raison d'être, and the final image would likely be genuinely chilling in a feature—think of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer, which concludes on more or less the same blandly horrifying note. Here, things move so swiftly to that point that it feels almost preordained, which is the opposite of the desired effect. Except it doesn't feel swift, because you have to sit through a whole lotta tedious declamation en route. Rivals "Tuileries" for my least favorite thing they've ever done (assuming we don't count Gambit or Unbroken or Suburbicon). 

Mixed

"Near Algodones": Boasts two glorious moments (one of them hilariously foreshadowed by the color plate), each consisting of exactly two words: (1) "Pan shot!" and (2) "First time?" Not much else to it, really—one element was previously seen in freakin' Maverick, if memory serves—and, again, the ending didn't land for me.

"All Gold Canyon": Always happy to see Waits, and the combination of process and solitude recalls the sublime opening section of There Will Be Blood (but with more muttering). In this case, there's enough time and labor invested to support abrupt cruelty at the buzzer, so the Coens first supply and then rescind it, making this tale an odd tonal outlier in which justice ultimately prevails. I guess I sort of admire the perversity; the purist in me runs stronger, though, and he disapproves.

(Note that the three on which I'm less keen run consecutively in the middle, between stronger bookends. Was starting to feel pretty frustrated by this point. Still, I'd have structured it identically.) 

Pro

"The Mortal Remains": Found this a tad obvious at first, but it soon became clear that we're meant to catch on early and watch the others stew in denial. So accurately mimics various Serling-scripted Twilight Zone episodes (which tend to be the show's weakest; freelancers like Beaumont and Matheson penned most of the classics) that his estate could arguably sue, though Joel and Ethan thankfully refrain from the show's standard Big Reveal, leaving matters ostensibly ambiguous (though not really). So-so as a stand-alone short, but very effective as a thematic capper. 

"The Ballad of Buster Scruggs": Embarrasses Hail, Caesar! as a musical comedy, though obviously it has the advantage of brevity. Still, there's not one sequence in that film that holds a candle to Buster's showdown with Surly Joe and its subsequent rousing ensemble number (featuring the wittiest lyrics in recent memory: "Humankind he frowned upon / But not now, his face is gone"). Nelson's the perfect choice for the title role, too, since he totes in sweet-yokel baggage via having first gained attention as Delmar. Nonstop laughs until, yep, it fizzles in the home stretch, pivoting on a banal reversal of expectations. Though the duet partially saves it.

PRO

"The Gal Who Got Rattled": Were this a little longer (and were I less of a stickler), you'd see me airlift it out of Buster Scruggs and place it atop my 2018 list. Note-perfect in almost every respect, right down to an ending that's emotionally incomplete unless you read the text (its final line, at the very least) in the book that serves as the film's framing device. What happens is heartbreaking, but here that pain is earned; Kazan and remarkable newcomer-to-me* Bill Heck create a world worth shattering, to coin a seemingly paradoxical phrase. What's more, the pathos sneaks up on you, building slowly and steadily just as it would in a first-rate feature. I thought of Boetticher at times. And then the masterstroke: a climactic rupture involving another character who we've barely seen do more than grunt prior to that moment, with Mr. Knapp not merely absent but never seen again. (Replace Mr. Arthur with Mr. Knapp in the final scene and you'd get the same pat, unsatisfying irony found in most of Buster Scruggs' other stories. I'm hard-pressed to articulate why delegating that role to a third party makes the tragedy so much more powerful, as that seems counterintuitive, but I nonetheless have no doubt of it. Has something to do with the way Mr. Arthur abruptly snaps into focus after having been all but ignored, and Mr. Knapp not appearing afterward is crucial. Maybe I'll try to work it out someday. Ah, art.) I love the title and its dual meaning; I love that the dog is named President Pierce; I love that Alice casually uses the word "apothegm" in conversation. Just call me The Fella Who Got Jolted.

* I'd apparently seen him in guest spots on both The Americans and The Leftovers, but he didn't make an impression. Here, he's like Keanu if Keanu could legitimately act, which: whoa.