So why rank them? Because their standing evolves over time. Each one is a low-key event for cinephiles, a well-earned snack. Though they feature movie stars and often rely on familiar storytelling modes, they are sui generis. They are responsible for virtually no dull movies-none sloppily made, none for the paycheck.
Joel and Ethan Coen’s 18 films-including The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, the anthology Western debuting on Netflix this week-represent one of the truly unified American accomplishments in the arts. For nearly 35 years, the duo from Minnesota have been making movies that celebrate and undermine genre, thumbing their noses at convention and trends, and exploring the meaninglessness of existence with the depth and absurdity worthy of the cause.
Nevertheless, their work compels an organized mind.
I can picture the blank and yet ambiently displeased expression on their faces upon being told that some schmuck has thought long and hard about slotting The Man Who Wasn’t There ahead of True Grit. I suspect that the Coen brothers would not regard a ranking of their films with much respect.
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