Honey Don’t 2025 Parents Guide

Honey Don’t is Rated R by Motion Picture Rating (MPA) for strong sexual content, graphic nudity, some strong violence, and language.

Honey Don’t – Movie Review

The concept of a standalone “lesbian B-movie trilogy” from Ethan Coen and his co-writer and queer, lesbian partner Tricia Cooke, on paper, sounds like a promising and delightfully offbeat experiment. In reality, Honey Don’t! marks the second consecutive misfire from the duo. This time, they dive into neo-noir with a darkly comedic detective story, reuniting Margaret Qualley after her turn in 2024’s Drive-Away Dolls.

I was intrigued from the start, even if their previous outing left me underwhelmed. The trailers promised a classic detective yarn with lesbians front and center, led by Qualley, Aubrey Plaza (Agatha All Along), and Chris Evans (Materialists). The premise seemed straightforward enough, with a whiff of mystery to keep viewers hooked but the finished product is a convoluted mess that squanders the cast’s potential.

A few performers, however, manage to inject life into the chaos. Margaret Qualley shines as Honey O’Donahue, and she is arguably the film’s saving grace. She transforms Honey into a modern noir detective with charm, wit, and a surprisingly relatable humanity that grounds her story. Honey is a hard-drinking, fiercely intelligent woman with a lust for life, and Qualley effortlessly balances these facets, making her endlessly watchable even as the plot careens off course.

Despite only a brief scene with her family her sister, nieces, and nephews the warmth Qualley radiates hints at Honey’s deep love and protective instincts. Her delivery straightfaced, often deadpan turns even the quirkiest lines into small delights.

Chris Evans, too, seems aware of the film’s campy intentions, slipping seamlessly into the role of Reverend Drew Devlin, the charismatic leader of a slightly cultish church. Evans captures the practiced charm of a megachurch frontman, which makes his character’s darker, more absurd qualities all the funnier. Still, like Honey, some of his jokes land flat, eliciting more eye-rolls than laughter. Their best shared scene appears in the trailer a testament to both actors’ chemistry and comedic instincts and it’s easy to imagine the film benefiting from exploring their dynamic more fully. Evans’ timing suggests he could thrive in more comedic roles, not just dramatic ones.

Talia Ryder also impresses in a small role as Corinne, Honey’s rebellious yet naive niece. She channels echoes of Honey herself, yet the film never develops their relationship fully. Instead, Qualley carries the emotional weight of Honey’s family ties alone. The narrative’s relentless jump from one plot beat to another never allows tension or connection to take root, leaving character threads dangling or abandoned entirely.

Aubrey Plaza, unfortunately, is given little to work with as Officer MG Falcone. Their relationship feels perfunctory, and despite both actors having previously portrayed convincing queer relationships, Plaza and Qualley struggle to generate chemistry here. Her performance is one of her career’s weaker turns but it’s hard to blame her when the writing offers so little substance.

The story frequently loses its footing. What begins as a promising lesbian neo-noir mystery dissipates under the weight of abrupt plot shifts and abandoned subplots. While the film’s unpredictability might offer some entertainment value, the fragmented structure ultimately prevents it from cohering into a satisfying whole. Coen and Cooke craft a fascinating world with a captivating lead, yet the execution is scattershot.

Comedy, too, is in short supply. Most laughs stem from Qualley, Evans, or Ryder, or from select visual gags. The soundtrack, however, shines, carrying energy and style across eras. Qualley even contributes musically, performing with her husband Jack Antonoff under the name Lace Manhattan. Tracks like the electro-pop “ODDWADD” and the reflective folk-pop “In the Sun She Lies” complement Honey’s story, giving moments of genuine resonance amid the chaos.

Yet questions about the intended audience linger. Repeated gags, such as Charlie Day’s Detective Marty Metakawich pursuing Honey despite her clear sexual orientation, underscore the lingering male gaze. Even with Cooke co-writing, intimate scenes feel superficial, poorly timed, and underdeveloped more spectacle than storytelling, more choreography than authenticity. Any attempt at empowerment fizzles, leaving these sequences hollow.

Ultimately, Honey Don’t! is a squandered opportunity. Margaret Qualley and Chris Evans give committed, often delightful performances, but the script’s lack of cohesion, character depth, and comedic punch diminishes their efforts. Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke demonstrate flashes of world-building and inventive storytelling, yet their “lesbian B-movie trilogy” remains disappointingly uneven. There’s a spark here campy, vibrant, and potentially fun but for now, it feels like Honey O’Donahue deserved far better.

Honey Don’t 2025 Parents Guide

Violence & Gore: Severe: If you thought the Coen brothers had a monopoly on quirky violence, think again. Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke serve up a neo-noir cocktail that’s more “blood-spattered” than “charming eccentricity.” Characters meet their untimely ends in ways that are as jarring as they are gratuitous. It’s like a slasher film had a baby with a detective story, and that baby was raised by a very angry, very drunk nanny.

Language: Severe: Expect a barrage of profanity that would make a sailor blush. Characters drop F-bombs like they’re auditioning for a role in a Scorsese film. If you’re sensitive to strong language, consider this your warning: the script doesn’t hold back.

Sexual Content & Nudity: Severe: The sexual content is explicit, with scenes that are more about shock value than storytelling. Nudity is prevalent, and not just in the background. If you’re looking for subtlety, look elsewhere. The film’s approach to intimacy is as subtle as a sledgehammer.

Substance Use/Drugs: Moderate: Characters partake in substances as casually as they sip their morning coffee. It’s not the focal point, but it’s there, lurking in the background like an uninvited guest at a party.