Sam Raimi's first six features were all examples of the director putting his particular stamp on specific genres. His films were the stuff of comic books and pulp fiction. Horror, zombies, demonic possession, swashbucklers, superheroes and the Universal Monsters, film noir, slapstick, and spaghetti westerns were the narrative materials he was utilizing. One could make the argument that these are examples of juvenile, childish obsessions. If that's the point of view you take, then 1996's “A Simple Plan” begins a new phase in Raimi's career. It represents his completed evolution into a mature filmmaker, someone who makes “serious” movies. This shift was rewarded with “A Simple Plan” becoming the first of Raimi's films to receive Academy Award nominations, for Best Supporting Actor and Best Adapted Screenplay.
Hank Mitchell lives a simple life in a small town in Minnesota. His wife, Sarah, is very pregnant. He works a low-paying but reliable job at a grain dispensary. He remains close with his brother, Jacob, who has never really recovered from the sudden death of their father. While out driving with Jacob and their mutual friend, Lou Chambers, the trio chases a fox into the woods. They come across a downed airplane, buried in the New Year's snow, a dead pilot behind the controls. A bag full of money is discovered inside, totaling out to four million dollars. Jacob and Lou, both unemployed, want to take the money but Hank is worried about it. He's eventually talked into it. And that is when his life descends into betrayal, paranoia, and bloodshed.
“A Simple Plan” begins with an irresistible premise. What would you do if four million dollars suddenly dropped into your lap? Even when split between three people, that's enough money to completely change someone's life. Of course, even before the criminals who want the money back show up, Hank and his friend's lives begin to fall apart. It's easy to say “A Simple Plan” is about that age-old adage of how “money is the root of all evil.” Not long after coming across the cash, the trio are committing murder to protect their secret. Lou demands his share and is threatening to blackmail Hank. The desire for the money, for the perceived changes in their lives it makes them imagine, is enough to make three pretty ordinary guys do horrible things.
In many ways, “A Simple Plan” feels a lot like Sam taking some cues from his old buddy, Joel Coen. Raimi's film resembles “Fargo,” with its tale of murders playing out in a snowy, Midwestern setting. What really connects “A Simple Plan” to the Coen's movies, and Raimi's general aesthetic, is its interest in small town imbeciles. It's pretty obvious Jacob has some severe learning disabilities. He's socially awkward. He repeatedly undermines the titular simple plan with very foolish decisions. Lou, meanwhile, is a belligerent drunk who is destined to screw up the minute the money is discovered. Hank is obviously the most intelligent of the three, a college educated man who actually thinks about the ramifications of finding the cache of money... And even he concocts ridiculous plans, makes foolish agreements, and fails to deescalate tense situations. It makes a clear point about the banality of evil, how stupidity is often the real reason horrible decisions are made.
As often as the film points out the lack of intelligence in its protagonists, it is not mocking them. “A Simple Plan” feels a great deal of sympathy for its none-too-bright antiheroes. Something that drives many of the bad decisions Jacob makes is the ever-present tension that exist between him and Hank. Their father went into debt so that Hank could be given a college education. Jacob, meanwhile, was never promised anything, not even the dilapidated family farm. During an early scene, the two visit their dad's grave, Hank noticing Jacob left flowers there at an earlier point... Which seems like an odd way for the older brother to rebel against his more successful, younger sibling. Jacob, sometimes, makes his resentment of Hank more obvious. Anybody with a sibling can relate to this, that creeping sensation that one sibling was more loved than the other. The sense of disappointment that their familial bond isn't as strong as it seems it should be. This ultimate inability to connect drives much of the drama inherent in “A Simple Plan.”
Up until this point, all of Sam Raimi's movies have been characterized by a visual dynamism, of rushing P.O.V. shots and crazy action sequences. In comparison, “A Simple Plan” is an unusually still movie. Raimi often frames his actors in wide shows, small figures moving across the snowy fields. Recalling the interiors of the “Evil Dead” cabin, Raimi makes every building in “A Simple Plan” feel cramped and hard to escape. Soon, you realize the camera is often placed outside wherever the cast is... As if a pair of eyes is watching everything they do. This mirrors the paranoia the characters feel, constantly afraid someone come and claim the money they have stolen. When Raimi's camera does move, such as when Hank and Sarah look over their shoulders at a drawling curtain while whispering about their scheme, the film is similarly replicating their paranoia. Raimi isn't just showing off but actually reflecting the film's themes in his visual construction.
“A Simple Plan' is a rare leading man part for the late, great Bill Paxton. Paxton is perfectly cast in the part of someone who seems to be a pleasant everyman. Hank loves his wife, is looking forward to becoming a father, and is friendly with everyone in town. Compared to the often foolish thoughts of his brother and friend, Hank tries to consider the consequences of his action. Paxton is excellent are project this honest and likable streak... Of course, there's also a darkness to the character, Hank showing an ability to perform ghastly acts with a cold determination. Paxton plays these moments as sudden compromises of his morality, which seem to horrify Hank himself.
While the three men and their obsession with the cash is what drives the story, there is a fourth voice here. Bridget Fonda plays Sarah, Hank's wife who iniatly seems even more reluctant to get involved with this than him. However, once those dollar signs and the ease they promise flash before her, she changes her tune. Suddenly, Fonda is a conviving Lady MacBeth type, pushing her husband into morally questionable schemes. Yet even her actions are driven by a quiet desperation. Another fantastic moment has Fonda explaining the hardships of her life and how this money is their chance to avoid them. Earlier in the film, Paxton has a passing line about how your suppose to “work for the American dream.” Fonda's moment here makes it clear what a piece of shit lie that is. Because honest labor has brought her family nothing but hardship while a bag of mysterious money falling out of the sky seems like a ticket out of this dead-end life.
After composing the March of the Dead for “Army of Darkness” and scoring “Darkman,” Danny Elfman would lend his talents to a Sam Raimi film without the word “dark” in its title. Elfman's music helps power the film's sense of unease. An effectively atonal piece of music, it begins with slightly out-of-cord piano nuts. Shrill flute cries that invoke both crow caws, as well as a shocking yell in the distance, subtly unsettle the audience. Acoustic guitars and fiddles recall the Midwestern setting while the mournful main melody suggests the tragedy that will unfold there soon enough. It moves Elfman out of his comfort zone – not a single jaunty tuba is heard – while perfectly supporting the film and being listenable as a piece of music, albeit a disturbing one.
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