The Coen Brothers (Fargo; O Brother, Where Art Thou?) make many inspired choices in their retelling of the 1955 Ealing Studio black comedy. Fluid camerawork, spotless sets, and the gospel soundtrack all testify to their vivid filmmaking technique.

Then why isn't The Ladykillers a better movie? Because as screenwriters, Joel and Ethan, who also share the directing credit, make the bad choice of including an excessive number of four-letter words. Having certain characters curse incessantly dampens the caper's humor and overshadows the Coen's prodigious talents. This isn't prudishness. The profanity is the primary reason for the film's R rating and renders the overall tone -- to the extent there is one -- more coarse than macabre.

Stylistic hyperbole is their trademark, but less exaggeration in this particular area would have resulted in a better, PG-13 film. Understatement across the board would have helped integrate the action and the disparate characters.

The original marked a high point in Alec Guinness' film career. It won't for Tom Hanks, though his mannered performance is not the movie's low point. He ambles through as Professor G.H. Dorr, an exquisitely learned dandy who uses a widow's root cellar to rob a Mississippi riverboat casino. Under the pretense of rehearsing Renaissance music in her basement, he assembles four petty criminals to dig a tunnel into the casino's vault. A cross between Colonel Sanders and Mark Twain, the sweet-tongued felon masterminds the heist yet is too fastidious to make it work. The right balance between his linguistic prowess and the crass behavior of his gang, as well as the religious piety of their would-be victim, is never struck.

Everyone is more or less befuddled. Irma P. Hall plays the devout widow Marva Munson, who after a fashion cottons on to the professor's plan. J.K. Simmons is Pancake, an explosives expert with irritable bowel syndrome whose girlfriend resembles Heidi on steroids. Marlon Wayons portrays the foul-mouthed inside man, Gawain; and Ryan Hurst and Tzi Ma play a dumb goon and Vietnamese General. The viciously bickering Gawain and Pancake do most of the cussing. It's a combustible mix, just not a funny one. And the hostile edge they flash isn't carried over to the main action.

A big obstacle to updating William Rose's original screenplay is that murder, which the gang is forced to attempt, has lost its power to shock over the last fifty years. The Coens compensate by gesturing at racial, religious and cultural tensions. They don't do much with the contrast between the sassy widow's religiosity and the amorality of the criminals. The hip-hopper Gawain is probably intended as a counterbalance to the African-American stereotype she represents. On paper, that is. The juxtaposition of southern Gothic touches, rap, and the professor's effete Svengali vibe is ineffectual.

For example, at a crucial juncture Marva's church gals come for tea and she asks the thieves to perform. It's a golden opportunity for humor, but there's minimal interaction between the two groups in the truncated scene. Early on we are treated to a rousing Gospel performance by her church choir followed by a fiery sermon. The Coens turn a familiar set piece into a well-written, well-acted gem. Alas, it's a stand-alone -- atmospherics with no direct bearing on the plot.

The Ladykillers is full of primo moments that aren't blended into a cohesive whole. As in their last movie, the schizophrenic romantic comedy Intolerable Cruelty, the Coen Brothers prove to be elegant miniaturists. 

(Released by Touchstone Pictures and rated "R" for language, including sexual references.)