Honey Don’t! (2025) is directed by Ethan Coen, who also wrote the script alongside Tricia Cook. It stars Margaret Qualley, Aubrey Plaza, Chris Evans, Lera Abova, Charlie Day, Jacnier, Josh Pafchek, Gabby Beans, Talia Ryder, Kristen Connolly, Don Swayze, Lena Hall, Kale Browne, Christian Antidormi, and Billy Eichner. The film follows Honey O’Donahue (Qualley), a private detective who uncovers clues that tie a charismatic religious figure (Evans) to a series of mysterious murders. As bodies continue to pile up, Honey’s investigation becomes further complicated when she begins a romantic relationship with a local patrol cop (Plaza). Can Honey crack the case before time runs out, or will the haze of budding romance blind her to the truth?

In her second collaboration with Ethan Coen, Margaret Qualley once again thrives as the kind of oddball protagonist who has defined a majority of the director’s filmography. Honey is a character who allows Qualley to play into her trademark flirtatiousness, but is written with enough flaws/weird quirks that it never feels like her defining trait. The fact that Honey is gay only further complicates this flirtatious charisma, with it often just resulting in unwanted male attention. 

This could’ve easily felt like a lazy, unoriginal comment on toxic male behavior (which is still an inherent element of the subtext), but Honey always seems to take it in stride. For example, there’s a recurring joke that sees Charlie Day’s detective character continuously ask Honey out on a date, to which she responds, “I like women.” Her answer is so blunt and honest that he keeps thinking she’s joking. By the end, the two become friends despite their lack of mutual romantic interest. Feminist-charged films such as this often tend to paint male behavior as intentionally predatory or creepy, which is still on full display with Evans’ character. Thankfully, Day’s character works to highlight the difference between respectfully communicating one’s romantic interest and being dangerously pushy or even predatory about it. Sure, he asks Honey out one too many times, but he does so because he’s an idiot, not because he’s some kind of sexual freak.

Even when it comes to Evan’s sexually manipulative pastor character, he’s written in a way that asks us to laugh at his arrogant absurdity, rather than being appalled by it. In other words, the humor works because it never asks us to laugh at all the horrible behavior, just the idiocy of its perpetrators. Because this subtext of toxic masculinity is light, humorous, and mostly pushed to the background, the film feels refreshing in the sense that, although it tackles typical modern gender themes, it doesn’t really ask us to analyze them in ways we probably already have. If you start digging into the gender politics of the story, you won’t find many ideas that feel particularly new. However, this allows the plot to stay focused on its goofy crime-caper thrills, resulting in a more accessible and entertaining, but infinitely more surface-level experience. 

Coen does a great job of balancing the quirky humor and shocking violence that have defined not just his solo efforts, but also his many collaborations with his brother, Joel. That being said, it’s once again clear that Ethan and his brother are much better directors when they work as a team. This would bother me less if Ethan’s style had a unique flavor, but he simply plays with the same trademark elements that define his collaborations with Joel. The only actual difference is that the overall tone of this and Drive-Away Dolls (2024) feels a lot more cartoonish. The problem is, you’d expect such a sillier tone to result in bigger laughs, but most of the comedy achieves little more than a passing grin. Because the trademark Coen darkness is set aside, the humor feels one-note and ultimately lazy. 

        Coen’s choice to create a tone that is a colorful mix of classic noir and gay comedies is mostly successful, but it does raise some questions about the reality in which the story is set. Classic cars, throwback outfits, and Honey’s refusal to own a cell phone often make the viewer forget that the film is set in the modern day. This sometimes works as a fun tonal experiment, but it’s equally jarring when we’re reminded how silly it is. I’m supposed to believe a supposedly skilled investigator doesn’t use a phone or the internet to help solve cases? 

For its first two-thirds, the film works well enough if you’re able to go along with the niche, oddball tone. Unfortunately, Coen makes a few choices that fall flat despite being logically sound. During the climax, which is effective in its own right, the love affair between Honey and Plaza’s character takes priority over the central mystery that dominates the majority of the film. This makes sense, considering that the romance is the only thing that actually affects Honey on a personal level. Unfortunately, the mystery is far more compelling than their romance, so this ending is unsatisfying. It would have been more palatable if it had something compelling to say about love, dating, or the lesbian experience, but it ultimately only serves to muddle its themes at the last moment. As a result, I left this otherwise light, silly experience more confused than satisfied. 

Overall, this is a goofy, well-shot, but extremely niche film. Coen’s filmmaking is unsurprisingly impressive on a technical level, but a good number of his creative choices are frustratingly flawed. Qualley’s charisma is, for the most part, able to elevate the film’s lesser moments, ultimately making this a fun 90-minute watch despite its off-kilter approach. Prudes, homophobes, and the overly serious should steer far clear of this, but anyone with an open mind should find it to be palatable. That being said, any Coen brothers fan will likely feel disappointed that half of one of the greatest directing duos of all time has spent nearly the last decade creating niche, disposable entertainment such as this. C+