Ethan Coen’s lesbian neo-noir, Honey Don’t!, offers neither a compelling mystery nor much of a point to its tale of small-town trauma, sex, and religion. Much of its threadbare 89-minute story feels like a glorified excuse to bask in Coen’s signature array of dry humour and eccentric personalities. Yet, despite how slight it all feels, who wouldn’t want to indulge in a charming, delightfully weird slice of Americana?

Taking place in a present-day Bakersfield that feels stuck in time—full of retro bars, cars, and sentiments—Honey Don’t!, follows private detective Honey O’Donahue (Margaret Qualley) as she investigates the death of a woman who asked for her help less than a day before her suspicious automobile accident. The trail quickly leads her to a religious cult run by the sexually deviant Reverend Drew Devlin (Chris Evans), a drug enterprise, and a sultry fling with police officer MG Falcone (Aubrey Plaza).

The story, penned by Coen and his partner Tricia Cooke, is of very little consequence. It’s outright forgotten for vast stretches of its brisk runtime and often feels more of a burden the film is forced to shoulder to string together its best moments. A bumbling murder attempt, a hysterical church sermon, and a series of steamy, side-splitting sex scenes all brim with texture, detail, and hilarity, but together, leave as little of an impact as the underbaked mystery they unfold within. As the film exhausts its most flavourful and witty sequences, it rushes through its final act, leaving undeveloped character motivations and shockless twists in its wake.

It’s a wonder, then, that the performances that reign in Honey Don’t! brim with flair and allure. While Qualley’s sexual chemistry with Plaza may be the main draw, it’s her jousting banter with Charlie Day’s schlubby Marty—whose romantic ardour for Honey is not returned in kind—that injects a sense of verve into the more routine investigative segments. Yet, it’s Evans, weaponizing his innate charm as a literally navel-gazing cult leader, who steals the limelight. He particularly shines in a sequence that asks, “Does a piece of macaroni serve the lord?”

While there exists a more full-bodied and resonant version of Honey Don’t!, where its noirish tale is as interesting as the personalities populating it, it reminds us that no one can capture the quirks and oddities of small-town America quite like a Coen brother.