Margaret Qualley Leads Netflix’s Lesbian B-Movie Trilogy

By Robert Scucci
| Published 29 seconds ago

Whenever I stumble on a dark neo-noir comedy with a promising cast, I want it to succeed. I love a hard-boiled private eye nursing two fingers of bourbon before following up on a hunch that, more often than not, uncovers a grand conspiracy unfolding in their own jurisdiction, unnoticed the entire time they’ve been living and working there. 2025’s Honey Don’t operates squarely in this lane, and the talent attached to it is undeniable.

Directed by Ethan Coen, who co-wrote the screenplay with Tricia Cooke as part of their “Lesbian B-movie trilogy,” Honey Don’t boasts a stacked cast, including Margaret Qualley, Aubrey Plaza, Chris Evans, Charlie Day, Kristen Connolly, and Talia Ryder. The on-screen chemistry is the film’s biggest selling point. Witty banter dominates the dialogue, and the jokes land more often than they miss. Running gags connect the principal characters, and it’s shot in a way that any Coen brothers fan can appreciate.

The problem with Honey Don’t is that it doesn’t quite stick the landing. The abrupt ending left me wanting more time with these characters because they’re so fun to be around.

Top Notch Characterization, So So Conspiracy

Honey Don’t earns its keep through characterization because everybody brings their A game. We’re introduced to Honey O’Donahue (Margaret Qualley), a Bakersfield, California-based private detective summoned to a car wreck that appears staged. Homicide detective Marty Metakawich (Charlie Day) is surprised to see her at the scene.

Both suspect foul play, but the real red flag for Honey is that the victim, Mia Novotny (Kara Petersen), was a potential client who called the day before and then disappeared. Marty asks Honey out, and she replies that she likes girls, a recurring exchange throughout the film.

Meanwhile, megachurch cult leader Reverend Drew Devlin (Chris Evans) is seen exchanging large sums of cash with Chére (Lera Abova), his French liaison in a drug-trafficking operation who appears at the crash site in the film’s opening before the authorities arrive. Drew is almost always in bed with younger female members of his congregation and constantly interrupted by associates during sexual acts he refers to as “fellowship.”

Not yet knowing how all of this connects, Honey starts digging with the help of her police friend and romantic interest, MG Falcone (Aubrey Plaza), but she’s constantly sidetracked by her older sister, Heidi (Kristen Connolly), whose teenage daughter, Corinne (Talia Ryder), keeps getting into trouble. When Corinne goes missing, Honey begins to wonder if the advertisements with Reverend Drew’s face plastered all over town have anything to do with her disappearance, along with the suspicious circumstances surrounding Mia’s death.

Feels Like A Rushed Job, But Still A Fun One

I really wanted Honey Don’t to succeed because it has all the trappings of a rock-solid neo-noir crime comedy. The cast’s charisma practically drips off the screen, and there are so many zingers that you almost forget there’s no way this mystery is getting a neat resolution. Clocking in at 89 minutes, I can’t help but wonder if there’s a director’s cut that spends more time on each character’s motives, or if the abrupt ending was always the plan.

While Honey Don’t is part two of a “trilogy” that Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke are working on, it’s not a trilogy in the traditional continuity sense, but rather a thematic one. Its predecessor, 2024’s Drive-Away Dolls, also stars Margaret Qualley, but it’s set in a different time and place, and she’s not playing Honey O’Donahue there. In other words, this isn’t an abrupt ending that’s going to be resolved in a direct follow-up as far as I know. It had a definitive ending, and there’s closure here, just not necessarily the kind I was looking for. 

Still, Honey Don’t is a supremely fun film that doesn’t take itself too seriously. I’d watch it again without hesitation because its neo-noir charm, character interplay, and comedic timing are near-perfect. I just wish it didn’t fumble so hard in the third act.

As of this writing, Honey Don’t is streaming on Netflix.