An Open Letter to The Coen Brothers

Dear Misters Joel and Ethan Coen - 

My dear friends. I do not know you. I have never met you. I would be so privileged. But as a complete stranger to you, I approach you in my mind as friends. You see, you appear to me to be friends - and close ones. I say this because we've had so many blissful moments with each other. It's never been through direct contact, sadly, but through the medium of which you two are such gifted masters. Through your gifted hands I have come to feel as if I know you two, and as if I am close to you. It is because you have revealed yourselves so nakedly and vulnerably through your art that I feel comfortable to approach you in this way.

You see, I want to ask of you two a favor. I know this could seem forward. We have never met, as I mentioned before. But we're friends, and friends can do that for one another. So I ask you two do me one little favor. I hope you don't mind, but I must ask it of you: Please, my dear friends, never stop making movies. I couldn't bear it. As a friend I don't think I could handle the loss of you as working filmmakers. The American cinematic landscape would sit barren of many of its unique beauties if you were ever to cease making movies. You have added so much to that landscape that only you two could have added, and losing you two would be a devastating blow. So again, I implore you with much fervor: never stop.

You must be asking yourselves why I've decided to write this letter. It's simple. Tonight as I watched Miller's Crossing, I marveled at the poetic beauty and that you created in the failed hit of Albert Finney's Leo. As he leaps off the balcony and then picks up the tommy gun and shoots it wildly into to night, as he shoots his would-be assassin through the window and while his once-living would-be assassin shot uncontrollably the bedroom I was awestruck by the near perfection attained. It is a scene that could only be as wonderful as it was in your hands, dear Brothers Coen. It played perfectly to your sensibilities and your capacities, sprung uniquely from your creative genius. It is a familiar moment - many films contain the same type of scene played out similarly - but yours was stamped with your indelible art. You are filmmakers who have taken to heart the theory of Truffaut and Godard, that a director has the capacity and the responsibility to leave his or her imprint on their work. This scene, as well as your entire oeuvre, benefits from this magical imprint. You are unique filmmakers, truly one-of-a-kind, and the loss of your genius would be devastating to the creative world.

So once more I implore you: don't stop. Never stop. If not for you, for me - a friend.

Sincerely, your good friend,

Brian Owen