Reading the Coens "The Ballad of Buster Scruggs"

You know the story, but people can't get enough of them, like little children. Because, well, they connect the stories to themselves, I suppose, and we all love hearing about ourselves, so long as the people in the stories are us, but not us. Not us in the end, especially.

If True Grit was the Coen Brothers’ most straightforward take on the Western, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs is their most philosophical. This six-part anthology film takes the tropes of the Western—outlaws, pioneers, prospectors, gunfights, and frontier justice—and distills them into meditations on fate, mortality, the moral ambiguity of the American mythos, and… death. Each story, though distinct in tone and subject, contributes to an overarching vision: a world where human striving, cruelty, and dreams of control are ultimately met with an unyielding reality.

The film opens with the titular story, a darkly comic and almost cartoonish tale of a singing gunslinger (Tim Blake Nelson) who navigates the violent West with charm and cheer—until his inevitable comeuppance. From there, the film traverses deeper into more somber, reflective territory. Near Algodones plays like a classic Coen joke, a series of ironic misfortunes culminating in a resigned acceptance of death. Meal Ticket is arguably the most brutal of the segments, a bleak parable on exploitation and disposability. All Gold Canyon offers a brief, deceptive glimpse of natural beauty and individual triumph—only to remind us how fragile life is. The Gal Who Got Rattled explores the hope and futility of human connection, while The Mortal Remains brings it all home in an eerie, theatrical meditation on what awaits us beyond this life.

Despite its anthology structure, the film feels remarkably cohesive. The Coens use the Western setting to strip humanity down to its essentials: greed, ambition, fear, and the search for meaning. The West, as they present it, is a place where dreams are pitted against inevitability, where justice is arbitrary, and where death is the one certainty.

Beneath the film’s absurdities and ironies lies a deeply theological reflection on human nature and destiny. The stories repeatedly affirm biblical truths: the sinfulness of man (Near Algodones), the corruption of wealth (All Gold Canyon), the dangers of pragmatism without morality (Meal Ticket), and the unavoidability of death (The Mortal Remains). The Coens, as always, refuse to offer easy answers, but their vision aligns with Ecclesiastes in its recognition that “all is vanity” apart from something greater.

Yet, there are also hints of grace. The beauty of the natural world in All Gold Canyon, the fleeting hope of love in The Gal Who Got Rattled, and even Buster Scruggs’ cheery acceptance of his fate suggest that while life is cruel, it is not without moments of joy, humor, and wonder. The film ultimately leaves us with an open-ended question: given the certainty of our mortality, how should we live?

In classic Coen fashion, The Ballad of Buster Scruggs can be read as either nihilistic or deeply spiritual, depending on what the viewer brings to it. It is a film that stares unflinchingly at death and still finds room for laughter, beauty, and meaning—however fleeting they may be.

Buster Scruggs' Hope for a Just World

"There's just gotta be a place up ahead where men ain't low-down and poker's played fair. If there weren't, what are all the songs about? I'll see y'all there. And we can sing together and shake our heads over all the meanness in the used-to-be."

Buster Scruggs, ever the cheerful gunslinger, expresses a longing for a world where justice prevails, where fairness is the rule rather than the exception. It’s a sentiment rooted in deep biblical truth—the longing for a restored creation, a world free of corruption and injustice. Scruggs, in his own way, articulates what many believers hold to: the hope of heaven, where all wrongs are made right.

Revelation 21:4—"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away."

Scruggs envisions a place where the “meanness in the used-to-be” is behind him, just as Christians look forward to the new creation where sin and suffering are no more.

Psalm 37:10-11—"In just a little while, the wicked will be no more; though you look carefully at his place, he will not be there. But the meek shall inherit the land and delight themselves in abundant peace."

While Buster’s afterlife is framed in the folklore of cowboy ballads, the hope he expresses is not far removed from the biblical concept of divine justice and final redemption.

Alice Longabaugh on Uncertainty

"...He had fixed political beliefs. All of his beliefs were quite fixed. He would upbraid me for being wishy-washy. I never had his certainties. I suppose it is a defect."

Alice’s lament about her late brother’s rigid beliefs reflects a common struggle: the tension between certainty and doubt. Many people, especially in religious circles, feel pressure to have absolute confidence in every aspect of life. But Scripture does not condemn uncertainty when it comes to earthly matters. Instead, it warns against misplaced confidence in human wisdom while affirming that true certainty belongs to God alone.

Proverbs 3:5—"Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding."

Alice’s uncertainty is not a flaw; it is an honest acknowledgment of human limitation. The problem is not uncertainty itself but where one places their trust.

Billy Knapp on Certainty About the Next World

"I don't think it's a defect at all. Oh no. Uncertainty. That is appropriate for matters of this world. Only regarding the next are vouchsafed certainty."

Billy Knapp offers a corrective to Alice’s uncertainty, suggesting that while this world is unpredictable, certainty about eternity is possible. This aligns with a biblical view of faith—while the world is full of mystery, the promises of God regarding salvation and the afterlife are firm.

Hebrews 11:1—"Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."

Knapp’s statement echoes this verse: in earthly matters, uncertainty is natural, but faith provides confidence in what truly matters.

2 Timothy 1:12—"I know whom I have believed, and I am convinced that he is able to guard until that day what has been entrusted to me."

The Mortal Remains: Death as the Final Destination

The final segment of The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, The Mortal Remains, serves as a culmination of the film’s exploration of death. Throughout the anthology, death appears in different forms—sudden and comedic (Buster Scruggs), ironic and indifferent (Near Algodones), slow and tragic (Meal Ticket), momentarily averted (All Gold Canyon), and cruelly unexpected (The Gal Who Got Rattled). But in The Mortal Remains, the Coens take their meditation on death to its most explicit and philosophical level.

Set entirely inside a stagecoach, the segment feels deliberately theatrical—more like a ghost story or a parable than a Western. Five travelers ride together as night falls, each representing different perspectives on life and death. The two bounty hunters (Jonjo O’Neill and Brendan Gleeson) discuss their work, emphasizing their certainty about human nature and mortality. The Frenchman (Saul Rubinek) muses on love and deception, the Lady (Tyne Daly) insists on moral absolutes, and the Trapper (Chelcie Ross) dismisses human connection as mere animal instinct. Yet as the conversation unfolds, an unsettling reality sets in: they are all heading to an inescapable final destination.

The film never states outright that the stagecoach represents the passage into the afterlife, but everything about the scene suggests it. The coach never stops. The passengers, reluctant to exit, are led forward nonetheless. And as the door to the hotel opens, a foreboding, almost supernatural light glows inside.

The Theological Weight of the Segment

Biblically, The Mortal Remains echoes the imagery of death as a journey with a final reckoning. The travelers' discussions mirror classic debates about the afterlife—morality, human nature, the fate of the soul. In Christian theology, death is not simply an end but a transition:

Ecclesiastes 7:2—"It is better to go to the house of mourning than to go to the house of feasting, for this is the end of all mankind, and the living will lay it to heart." The segment forces the audience into that house of mourning, reflecting on what awaits beyond the journey of life.

Hebrews 9:27—"And just as it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment." The bounty hunters’ role in the story hints at this reality—they are the guides, ushering souls to their final reckoning, whether they are ready or not.

This segment also recontextualizes the previous stories. Buster Scruggs himself, cheerful in death, embraced his fate. The bank robber of Near Algodones never realized his end was coming until the noose was around his neck. Meal Ticket shows death as transactional, a mere consequence of survival. All Gold Canyon offers a momentary escape from death, while The Gal Who Got Rattled presents it as cruelly inevitable. But in The Mortal Remains, there is no escape, no delay—only the quiet acceptance that all must step forward.

The Coens end the film with this segment for a reason. Every story before it prepares the viewer for this moment, where the metaphor becomes explicit. No matter how we live—whether we are gunslingers, pioneers, thieves, or artists—we all end up on the same coach, heading toward the same uncertain horizon. The question is not if we will face it, but how. Faith, and the revelation of God in scripture, help us face it with confidence.