By José María Gámez-Lamadrid, Staff Writer

There’s an outcry in Hollywood lamenting the death of the comedy genre. Gone are the days of the Seth Rogen comedy — sex-and-drug-induced bouts of cross-country misadventure. Todd Phillips has been cured of his hangovers; the dude found his car.  Even if such a comedy happens to come around, it’s typically sentenced to the streaming pits regardless of quality, just ask Adam Sandler about his annual Netflix release. It’s a shock nowadays to see such a comedy release in theaters, but even more so to see a Coen brother’s name in the credits.

Refreshed and eager to get back behind the camera after a Hollywood hiatus, Ethan Coen presents Drive-Away Dolls, his solo directorial debut since the brothers split. Co-written with his wife Tricia Cooke, the film follows free-spirited Jamie (Margaret Qualley) and overworked Marian (Geraldine Viswanathan) — two best friends that decide to hit the road during the Y2K fever. Desperate for a vacation, Marian mentions a trip to visit her aunt in Florida, which Jamie suggests turning into a booze cruise to help Marian loosen up and resuscitate her flatlined sex life. Finally set on the road trip, the two best friends attempt to make some extra cash by working a driveaway delivery along the way, hauling secret cargo that shadowy forces are eager to get their hands on.

The premise of Drive-Away Dolls is simple: Travel from point A to point B, deliver the cargo and have a happy ending. There’s no underlying metaphors or subtext hidden within, it’s a simple jaunt between two friends through the East Coast, served with a generous helping of sex and booze. 

There’s hints of The Big Lebowski (1998) scattered throughout the film with its style of humor, elevated through the absurdity of the pair’s misadventures. It’s a throwback to the height of the 2000s raunchy comedy, where the pair of protagonists stumble through plot points in the hopes of getting laid. It’s adolescent, yet mature, offering a twist on a traditionally machismo-ridden genre through a queer lens, a rarity for a big blockbuster production.

The dynamic between Jamie and Marian serves as the highlight of the movie. The pair crackles with electrifying chemistry as they spout witty Coen banter to each other. Qualley’s performance is ripped straight out of a psychedelic rock album from the 1960s hippie movement — screw the establishment, live freely and to hell with anyone who tells you otherwise. Throw Marian in the mix though, and the genuineness of Jamie’s traditional Southern upbringing humbles her selfishness for the sake of another’s happiness.

As a counterbalance to Jamie’s eccentricity, Viswanathan channels her chops as the straight-man to drive the plot forward. Marian knits herself into a ball of tension as the stakes continue to rise, always cool but struggling to collect herself. Curt and straightforward with others, she yearns to hold to the same carefree attitude as Jamie, but the exhaustion of the life she attempts to leave behind prevents her from finding that same lust for life (and a girlfriend). Even so, vacationing with Jamie allows a softer side of her to slip out, a platonic love that considers blossoming into something more.

At a brisk one hour and 24 minutes, Drive-Away Dolls does not overstay its welcome. It tells its story, thanks the audience for watching and leaves everything wrapped up neatly with a bow as the credits roll. It’s passionate, earnest and absurd, a solid blast from the cinema past as we look to the future for the next Coen collaboration.