The Dead End Of ‘Honey Don’t!’: A Detective Story That Forgets The Point
Editor’s note: This review contains spoilers.
(REVIEW) For nearly three decades, superhero films have dominated the cinematic landscape, often overshadowing other genres. In recent years, we’ve seen a welcome resurgence of alternative formats, especially horror and detective films. Directors like Jordan Peele and Ari Aster revitalized horror by turning monsters into overt metaphors for psychological and social trauma. Similarly, Rian Johnson’s “Knives Out” series and Kenneth Branagh’s “Hercule Poirot” films have breathed new life into the detective genre by showing how it, too, can serve as a platform for timely social commentary.
Into this revitalized space steps “Honey Don’t!” — the latest attempt to tap into the growing appetite for crime and mystery with a progressive twist. Unfortunately, the film falls flat. It lacks the narrative focus, thematic coherence and emotional stakes that detective stories rely on. Rather than asking “Whodunnit?” you’re more likely to find yourself wondering, “Why bother?”
“Honey Don’t!” follows private investigator Honey O’Donahue (played by Margaret Qualley), a stylish and self-assured lesbian detective who starts looking into a string of murders and disappearances after one of her potential clients turns up dead. Her investigation leads her deep into the emotional wreckage of various relationships in Bakersfield, Calif., all of which seem to connect to a suspicious church run by the charismatic — yet unsettling — Rev. Drew Devlin (played against type by Chris Evans).
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On paper, it’s a compelling premise — an edgy, queer detective uncovering corruption in a conservative-leaning town, punctuated by murder, cultish religion and dysfunctional families. The film is the latest collaboration between Ethan Coen (of the Coen Brothers) and his wife, editor-turned-co-writer Tricia Cooke.
This unique partnership — described by both as a “non-traditional marriage” with Cooke identifying as queer and both partners having other relationships — informs the tone and themes of “Honey Don’t!” and their previous film, “Drive-Away Dolls.”
In an interview promoting “Drive-Away Dolls,” Cooke said, “I kind of represent the queer world. All of the bumbling men in the movie and all of the caper stuff definitely comes from Ethan’s mind.”
Coen added, “Tricia’s queer and sweet and I’m straight and stupid. That could be the slogan of the movie.”
These dynamics are evident in “Honey Don’t!,” which feels built around this dichotomy.
A character that’s all style, no substance
O’Donahue is portrayed as a cool, unflappable hard-boiled detective — always the smartest person in the room, always with the wittiest comeback and irresistibly attractive to nearly everyone she meets. In many ways, she fits neatly into a classic detective archetype. Like Miss Marple, Hercule Poirot or Benoit Blanc, she doesn’t need a character arc because the mystery isn’t about her. The detective serves as a lens through which we view a troubled world — someone who arrives, sorts out the chaos and delivers moral judgment.
Rian Johnson’s “Knives Out” films capture this well. Benoit Blanc operates in a world that mirrors our own, filled with corrupt billionaires, vain influencers and crumbling institutions. He serves as both sleuth and moral compass, guiding the audience through the moral failings of the suspects. And crucially, these films also give us emotionally grounded secondary protagonists — characters like Marta in “Knives Out” or Helen in “Glass Onion” — who carry the emotional arc.
“Honey Don’t!” fails on this front. Honey has no real arc, and there’s no compelling emotional surrogate for the audience. She moves through the plot like a ghost — observing, judging and outsmarting — but without growth or meaningful relationships. One side character seems poised to become a secondary protagonist we can root for, but he’s abruptly killed off midway through the film. This leaves us with no one to invest in emotionally.
Still, it’s possible to build a compelling detective story around a largely static protagonist if the theme is strong. Consider “Fargo,” one of the Coen brothers’ most celebrated films. Marge Gunderson, the film’s pregnant police chief, appears in only parts of the movie and doesn’t undergo a dramatic transformation. Instead, she serves as a moral anchor in a world unraveling over greed. Her simple, content life stands in stark contrast to the chaos around her, making the film’s message — about the dangers of unchecked ambition and the virtues of modest living — resonate powerfully.
“Honey Don’t!” initially appears to follow a similar approach. Honey’s “cool and queer” lifestyle is juxtaposed with the broken, heteronormative relationships that populate the town. There’s the overwhelmed mom with too many kids, the co-dependent women stuck in abusive relationships, the clingy men who can’t take a hint and the manipulative pastor who preys on the vulnerable. By contrast, the most competent, emotionally healthy characters in the film are, like Honey, lesbians.
This contrast could have been the foundation for a sharp and timely theme. American culture is becoming increasingly divided — politically, socially and ideologically — along the lines of gender and religion. As numerous studies and polls suggest, single women are trending leftward, while married couples, religious communities and traditional family structures are becoming more aligned with the political right. Being male, religious and married now often codes as conservative, while secularism and queerness are associated with progressive identity.
In this context, “Honey Don’t!” could have been a culture-war fable: A story about how heteronormative and religious institutions breed dysfunction, and how it takes someone outside those structures — a secular lesbian — to identify and resolve the problems. As one character in the film puts it, “It’s a slippery slope. First you stop exercising. Then you start dating men. Then you vote Republican. Been there. Lost years of my life to that.” But just as the film seems to solidify that theme, it undercuts itself.
A twist that undermines the message
In the third act, we learn that the killer is none other than Honey’s own lover — a twist that undermines the film’s previously clear good versus evil and queer versus straight dynamic. If the film’s thesis is that dysfunction stems from heteronormativity and religious hypocrisy, then making the murderer a lesbian disrupts that narrative. Suddenly, the lines are blurred and the film seems to suggest that corruption and violence aren’t confined to one side of the culture war.
At first glance, this could indicate a deeper theme. Perhaps the story is really about Honey’s journey from self-righteous judgment to humility. Maybe she starts out seeing the world in binary terms — queer and good versus straight and toxic — but learns that evil can exist within her own circle, too.
In the end, it’s the conventional family she once mocked that ends up saving her. This would align her more with the tragic detectives of film noir, like Sam Spade (“The Maltese Falcon”) or Jake Gittes (“Chinatown”), whose journeys end in disillusionment.
It’s a potentially compelling arc — one that would feel emotionally honest in today’s polarized world. Research consistently shows that both conservatives and liberals dramatically overestimate how extreme the other side is. And when it comes to culture, data suggests that dysfunction is not exclusive to any one group. Lesbians, for instance, have among the highest divorce rates. Secular societies aren’t necessarily healthier than religious ones. In fact, religious people are statistically more generous, happier and less abusive. Overall, married couples with children report greater life satisfaction than singles.
But if this reversal was the film’s intent, it fails to deliver it convincingly. Honey shows no signs of personal growth. There’s no moment of reckoning or humility. The film ends without any clear suggestion that she sees the world differently than at the start. And the broader culture it mocked earlier remains the butt of the joke until the end. If the twist was meant to provoke a reevaluation of the film’s perspective, it doesn’t land.
Stories that hinge on a character transformation need to emphasize that moment. Think of “Pulp Fiction,” where Jules’s transformation is made explicit through a speech and a clear moral choice. Or “Chinatown,” where Jake’s fall into cynicism culminates in one of cinema’s most haunting endings. “Honey Don’t!” offers no such catharsis. No clear emotional climax. No final realization. Just a shrug and a cut to credits.
Joseph Holmes is an award-nominated filmmaker and culture critic living in New York. He is co-host of the podcast “The Overthinkers” and its companion website theoverthinkersjournal.world, where he discusses art, culture and faith with his fellow overthinkers. His other work and contact info can be found at josephholmesstudios.com.