A film with exquisite cinematic sensibilities, terrific use of wardrobe, color, and a sharp, witty script that delivers with every line. This film is less about the overall package and more about the visceral, moment-to-moment experience.

Treat it like a mystery narrative and you risk getting lost, especially if you’re of a simpler disposition like yours truly. Take this film for what it is: drink it in, and enjoy without asking questions or thinking about whether it makes sense. “Honey Don’t!” delivers beautiful, vivid visuals through its modern cinematography, delightful palette of rich colors, and wonderful casting. The visual language of this film and the framing of every scene is impeccable, punctuated with sharp banter and poignant lines delivered by terrific actors and actresses. The sound direction accentuates perfectly, with meaningful use of silence and delicious choices of music.

What starts off as a whodunnit quickly escalates into a comedic conspiracy, replete with wit and murder. Complementing the notes of violence and wry humor are some sensual sex scenes, some more comedic, and some more… well, sexual.

There are a lot of good nipple shots in this film. Aubrey Plaza’s left breast stars for a minute and a half in one scene alone. Charlie Day wants to get in on the action – his mustache is just asking for it – but Honey only does girls. Chris Evans, now free from the burdens of being a straightedge Captain America, fully embraces the role of rambunctious, egotistical sex-maniac slash cult-leader.

At initial glance, this movie can come across disjointed and somewhat jarring, if one is trying to piece things together. What you gotta do is let go, and take the film as it comes. Let it come to you. Drink it in. Enjoy it for what it is – then you’ll see why it’s good. And rest assured, it isn’t solely because of its exceptional lesbian sex scenes and attractive cast.

This film, like many films from the cult of the Coens, isn’t just good. It’s great.

The first time I watched “Honey, Don’t” I felt somewhat disappointed, as if there was something missing… like an appetizer before my main course, or a quality sauce tying the entire dish together. Then I realized what it was… I had expected a greasy burger and had instead been served a three-star Michelin meal designed to tantalize the palate but not overload the gut. This was a culinary masterpiece masquerading as an over glorified porno.

Perhaps most importantly, I wield some expectations of justice, of the “bad guys” getting their just dessert, of everything tying together sensibly, coming together in a meaningful crescendo. Instead, the film concludes with a brazen cacophony of concussive instruments and blaring horns that left me disoriented and wondering what the hell just happened. I was left with a certain ennui that had me return for numerous rewatches. At this point, I’ve watched “Honey Don’t!” a solid four times, at least.

The second and third times watching had me understanding that fundamentally, the film was a comedy of errors capturing the truly nonsensical and arbitrary nature of reality, especially the karmic nature by which situations and crimes sort themselves. My error in my first watch of this exceptional film was having expectations: because nothing is as it seems, and it actively strives to defy expectation.

“Honey, Don’t!” does a good job doing what magicians do: distracting you. In that misdirection lies its magic. Let yourself be bedazzled and enjoy the show. Enjoy the close-ups of areola and artistically sandwiched femme fatale forms. Then finish off the film with a choice dessert: a cheesecake, or a crème brûlée. Savor the sweet, succulent tartness of a ripe raspberry. Pontificate on the sheer ludicrousness of life.

Oh, and don’t mess with the French.