The Coen brothers’ “Hail, Caesar!” is a light comedy (really, borderline farce) about a “fixer”— someone responsible for hiding potential scandals from the public eye—for a large 1950’s film studio. As such, it should not be an exceptionally subtle film—light comedies are rarely subtle, especially movies that have their roots solidly in the competent-company-man genre exemplified by James Cagney showpiece “One, Two, Three.” And it cannot be denied that “Hail, Caesar!” is an incredible success as a member of this genre. But what makes “Hail, Caesar!” an exceptional piece of art is not the fact that it is very amusing but the fact that it is very serious. At the film’s heart and permeating every facet of the action is a compelling argument about the imperfectability of man and the impossibility of realizing utopias.

Eddie Mannix (Josh Brolin) is a “fixer” at Capitol Studios, which is currently producing a massive biblical epic à la “The Robe” and “Ben Hur”—the titular “Hail, Caesar!” (subtitled “A Tale of the Christ”). For a man in such a grungy job, handling the occasionally sordid problems faced by studio actors, he is extremely fastidious in his own life: he goes to confession nearly daily and frets about quitting his cigarette habit. When Baird Whitlock (George Clooney), the leading man for “Hail, Caesar!” is kidnapped by a mysterious political syndicate calling itself “The Future,” Mannix faces the hardest task his job has brought him so far.

The ensemble cast performs flawlessly. Even small roles—Jonah Hill’s imperturbable surety agent, Robert Picardo’s dyspeptic rabbi—are brought vividly to life. Clooney’s performance is remarkably subtle and deadpan: There is not even a hint of self-parody in his performance as a clueless, self-serious, self-absorbed, and tremendously wealthy strong-jawed leading man. Relative unknown Alden Ehrenreich’s performance as cowboy actor Hobie Doyle is also impressive, bringing gentleness to a caricature that could easily receive a more mean-spirited treatment. The biggest surprise is perhaps Channing Tatum’s tap-and-song routine, in which Tatum proves himself to be an accomplished practitioner of musical theater.

In addition to the exceptional acting, the cinematography of “Hail, Caesar!” is gorgeous. The Coen brothers’ representation of massive studio-era spectacles is almost overwhelming; Irving Berlin-style tap routines, aquatic dance arrangements, and the masses of Roman-garbed extras are rendered in lush, expansive, and CGI-unmolested detail. The visual style is more understated and less patently bizarre than early Coen brothers productions like “Fargo” or “Raising Arizona” but still maintains the duo’s signature striking framing. The product is exactly what one would expect from an homage to Cecil B. DeMille made by the Coen brothers.

What makes “Hail, Caesar!” more than a well-made tribute, however, is the underlying coherence of concept explored in the story: the obsession with the perfection of human circumstances. Mannix is a man whose passion is making things perfect, whether it be his studio’s productions—an opening scene shows him leading a focus group of religious leaders to make sure that “Hail, Caesar!” has a perfect depiction of Christ—or himself. The Future is concerned with the creation of an ideal society. Starlet DeeAnna Moran (Scarlett Johansson) is concerned with finding the perfect man. “Hail, Caesar!” is about the unrealizability of these visions and the necessity of accepting reality’s warts. In the film’s final scene, Whitlock gives his emotional final speech before the crucified Christ. The crew shows signs of inspiration and wonder until Whitlock forgets his final word—“faith”—and begins swearing. At the film’s heart is an affirmation of the human inability to realize divinity.

“Hail, Caesar!” is a very funny movie with a very serious philosophical heart, perhaps the most serious of any Coen brothers movie, and it is baffling and disappointing that it is appearing in the dead post-Oscar nominations month of February. It is a film that deserves real attention.

—Staff writer Jude D. Russo can be reached at jude.russo@thecrimson.com.