YouTuber Mariana Colín (@The Morbid Zoo, one of my new favorite channels) recently published a video essay on “The Philosophy of Final Destination,” where she argues for the importance of the B movie in pop culture. What exactly is a B movie? Well, that’s its own debate, but for the purposes of this review, B movies are films that are short, cheap, and not meant to be taken seriously.
This doesn’t mean B movies can’t explore interesting ideas or have a lasting impact on culture (Final Destination did both), but B movies don’t exist to do these things; they exist only “to get a reaction out of you.” To Colín, that reaction is usually more indicative of who you are than your reaction to any low-risk, big-budget film that’s trying to make you feel something.
Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke’s Honey Don’t! is the second in their trilogy of self-described “lesbian B movies,” following 2024’s Drive Away Dolls. Like Dolls, Honey Don’t! follows a lesbian played by Margaret Qualley in a tale of sex and murder. I liked Honey Don’t! a lot less.
‘Honey Don’t!’ Tries and Fails (But Most Importantly, Tries)
Honey Don’t! is a neo-noir dark comedy with a mystery that the titular detective doesn’t try very hard to solve. Margaret Qualley’s Honey O’Donahue spends most of the runtime driving around Bakersfield, California in 1970s business casual (though the film takes place post-COVID), having sex, looking broody, smoking cigarettes, and serving up cold one-liners. That’s really it.
If that sounds awesome to you, then you’re probably a lot like me. I have a feeling Honey Don’t! should’ve floored me. I love movies that aren’t afraid to say the word lesbian and are obsessed with aesthetics even to the detriment of the plot. Bottoms was my top film of 2023 and I found Drive Away Dolls charming and fun and totally ridiculous. But when I left the theater after Honey Don’t!, I felt confused. My confusion would’ve been fine if I didn’t also feel disappointed.
Coen and Cooke’s latest trades Drive Away Dolls’ fast-paced dialogue and bombastic visuals for witty dialogue that rarely lands and scenes that fade drearily in and out. I’ll admit that I grinned both times Honey blew off a male detective (made marginally less creepy only because he’s played by Charlie Day) by telling him proudly that she likes girls. But, in general, it’s a much quieter film; the opening scene of Dolls features Pedro Pascal getting his eyes gouged out (yes, again!) and ends with a second mobster excitedly running in with a hacksaw to torture him more, while Honey Don’t! opens with Lera Abova (albeit sporting a vicious bob) discovering an already-dead body in a car accident and silently driving away on her motorcycle. Drive Away Dolls was apparently in development for over two decades; I found myself wondering if Honey Don’t! should have spent more time in the drafts.
But when the lights came up, I turned to my friend and asked if I somehow missed the third act just as he leaned over and declared it to be in his top three movies of the year.
I was shocked, thinking maybe he found depth that I just couldn’t. It turns out he didn’t – he found the empty desert setting startlingly reminiscent of his hometown in West Colorado, the dialogue funny and simple, and the plot shallowly fun. That was all he needed. If a B movie exists only to get a reaction, then for my friend, Honey Don’t! hit the nail on the head.
The Case for Trash
After sitting on it for a few days, I’ve decided Honey Don’t! is a movie that tried, failed, and looked really good doing it. If it says something interesting (maybe something about people and especially women whose suffering is ignored have little choice but to crawl into the arms of the first community that accepts them?) it’s largely by accident. The B movie can not (and really should not) be taken seriously or deemed worthy of respect, and Honey Don’t! neither takes itself seriously nor expects anyone else to.
In “The Philosophy of Final Destination,” Colín argues that “trash” is vital to our pop culture ecosystem because it shows us the moment we’re living in, not what was or what could be. Our culture needs trash, and Colín implores her viewers to make more of it, because what we learn about ourselves and the world in the process of making trash, and what others discover when we share it, is important. It’s vital.
Honey Don’t! is trash; it’s unserious and clumsy and totally aware that it is all of these things. Though I found Drive Away Dolls succeeded more than Honey Don’t! in pushing the boundaries of a B movie, both movies tried to do and say something. I’m holding out hope that Coen and Cooke’s next installment (reportedly titled Go Beavers), will keep pushing — I can at least count on it being some more trashy fun.
So I’m glad Honey Don’t! got at least two different reactions. It failed to land for me, but I’m glad it tried during an era of cinema that’s annoyingly lacking in effort. It made me want to make some trash, and maybe that’s enough to justify its existence — if not the eighteen dollars it cost me to go see it.