Critic's Notebook

Focus Features

I don’t know what’s with writing and domestic partners Ethan Coen and Tricia Cooke’s weird obsession with lesbians, especially ones that look like Margaret Qualley. Following “Drive-Away Dolls,” they return with “Honey Don’t!,” yet another very blah entry in their supposed sapphic noir trilogy.

We know that Ms. Cooke self-identifies as queer and Mr. Coen has a reputation making film noir with his brother Joel. Their collaborative sapphic noirs aren’t exploitative or pervy like “Blue Is the Warmest Color,” which critics collectively glossed over until Ophélie Bau’s allegations of Abdellatif Kechiche’s abuse on the set of the “Mektoub, My Love” trilogy came to light. But Ms. Cooke and Mr. Coen’s sapphic noirs also aren’t sexy or riveting like Rose Glass’s “Love Lies Bleeding.” Juvenile is the best way to characterize them, that they tee-hee over dykes the way Beavis and Butt-Head might.

“Honey Don’t!” opens with its femme fatale (Lera Abova), dressed in all leopard print with matching leopard print helmet, in the desert sniffing around a rolled over car. She purloins the ring off the driver’s finger. And here enters the eponymous Honey O’Donahue (Ms. Qualley), private dick.

Despite Honey’s lack of reciprocal interest, Det. Marty Metakawitch (Charlie Day) flirts with her all the same. She has her sights set on MG (Aubrey Plaza), a cop who still lives with her mother. Honey wants to keep things casual, but the relationship soon gets intense. As with “Drive-Away Dolls,” Mr. Coen and Ms. Cooke mine humor from dildos. As I said, juvenile.

Then there’s the cultish Reverend Drew (Chris Evans) who has seemingly cast a spell over his congregation. He’s a fraud who traffics drugs and has orgies when not in a cassock and giving ridiculous sermons. When a man overdoses on the church’s “nectar,” Reverend Drew orders a full cover up.

The gruesome and messy violence typical of the Coen brothers does give more of a sense of urgency than was found in “Drive-Away Dolls.” Mr. Coen also continues to create these small-time characters and their small-town quirks. But without input from his brother Joel, they mostly seem like caricatures. At least this time, the relationship between Honey and MG seems more fleshed out than either of the ones from “Drive-Away Dolls.”

Despite Ms. Qualley’s best efforts at acting butch, her hair, makeup and wardrobe are coded femme in this coupling. Meanwhile, Ms. Plaza’s character, in full police gear, is supposed to actually be femme? While this seems to be an interesting juxtaposition, it really goes nowhere. From “Honey Don’t!” and “Drive-Away Dolls,” we really get a full panoply of queer characters that we can’t empathize with.

“Honey Don’t!” is mostly about vibes, right from the opening credits incorporating old-timey signs. But aside from Honey and MG’s romance and Reverend Drew’s sleaziness, nothing else really resonates. Even as a B movie, it’s utterly forgettable.