Cathedral City, CA

There’s something magical about walking into a theater when you don’t know quite what to expect. I saw Honey Don’t! at the Mary Pickford in Cathedral City, where the neon marquee promised a night of mystery and mischief. The room had that lovely low hum of anticipation—the kind you only get when people are curious and maybe just a little skeptical about what they’re about to watch. It reminded me why I love seeing films with an audience: even before the first frame, we’re already on a shared adventure.

Directed by Ethan Coen and co-written with Tricia Cooke, Honey Don’t! is the second in their self-described “lesbian B-movie trilogy,” following Drive-Away Dolls (2024). This installment leans into noir territory with a playful twist. Our heroine, Honey O’Donahue—played with fearless swagger by Margaret Qualley—finds herself investigating a series of murders tied to a local church. Along the way, she encounters Reverend Drew Devlin (Chris Evans, relishing his villain role) and MG (Aubrey Plaza), a prickly cop with whom Honey has undeniable, if complicated, chemistry. It’s a premise ripe with intrigue, humor, and just enough camp to keep the ride interesting.

Qualley is a delight to watch—her physicality and sharp delivery give Honey a lived-in confidence, though the script sometimes leaves her character more surface than substance. Evans steps away from his Captain America heroics to give us a manipulative preacher who’s equal parts charming and chilling, though occasionally too one-note to surprise us. Plaza’s MG is perhaps the most intriguing element: tough, wounded, and magnetic, she brings depth to a role that risks slipping into stereotype. The direction swings between slapstick comedy and brooding noir, and while those tonal shifts sometimes clash, you can feel Coen and Cooke’s eagerness to experiment with form—something they’ve been doing since Raising Arizona.

What struck me most wasn’t just the plot, but what the film seems to be wrestling with: how do we tell stories of identity, desire, and power in a way that both honors and entertains? Honey Don’t! doesn’t always land its punches cleanly, but when it does, it’s refreshing to see a queer-driven noir attempt to carve out space in a genre that historically hasn’t been welcoming. Sitting in that theater, I couldn’t help but feel the importance of the experiment—even if imperfect—because it’s pushing audiences to expand what belongs on screen.

I left the theater thinking less about its flaws and more about the joy of seeing something that tried, with energy and boldness, to be different. And isn’t that part of why we go to the movies in the first place? To be surprised, to be challenged, and sometimes to be delighted even when the ride is bumpy. If you’ve seen Honey Don’t! already, I’d love to hear your thoughts. And if not, maybe give it a chance—you might find yourself grinning at the same moments I did.

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