The three escaped prisoners, who often double as country music sensations, watch in terror as the Ku Klux Klan -- led by a mayoral candidate, his dwarf running mate and a Cycloptic Bible salesman -- performs a musical dance number before they attempt to lynch a musician who has recently sold his soul to the devil.

This scene from O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) aptly illustrates the unique, unmistakably quirky filmmaking style of brothers Joel and Ethan Coen.

The Coens can be counted among the few modern American filmmakers whose body of work lends itself easily to the auteur theory of cinema -- the theory which suggests that a film is ultimately authored by one artistic voice, although in the Coens' case it is a voice established by equal contributions of both brothers. Although Joel is always credited as director and Ethan as producer, it is commonly known that the duo writes, directs, produces and edits the films collaboratively.

Their tenth film, Intolerable Cruelty, which comes to wide release next Friday, marks a departure for the Coens, as it is the first time several other individuals have gotten involved with producing and writing one of their films. Before seeing this bigger-budgeted studio movie, however, you would serve yourself well to peruse their illustrious filmography.

Some highlights:

'Miller's Crossing' (1990)

Both a tight, elegantly economic period piece and an uncannily bloody gangster flick, you could say Crossing has a little something for everyone. For me, it has an incomparably engrossing script. In Crossing, we get the pleasure of tailing smooth-as-silk Irish gangster Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) through a web of fickle Prohibition-era allegiances so complex that, after seven viewings, there are still certain plot elements that escape me. For anyone who enjoys the mental exercise of trying to keep pace with a story that's racing a mile a minute, Miller's Crossing will not disappoint. Additionally, the dialogue of the film -- which is fittingly inspired by the works of 1930's hard-boiled crime novelist Dashiell Hammett -- crackles with an effortless wit unequaled by any contemporary screenwriters.

'Barton Fink' (1991)

My favorite Coen brothers' film, Barton Fink, is also the most elusive. On one level it is a comedy about Barton (John Turturro), a pretentious New York playwright, and his hopeless attempt to write a generic wrestling flick. On another level -- the one the Coens prefer -- it is a "buddy movie" about the unlikely friendship between Fink and a neighboring Everyman salesman played by Coen vet John Goodman. And on still another, it is a heady, highly symbolic rumination on creation, deterioration and madness.

Throughout, expert cinematographer Roger Deakins' camera skulks eerily through what is surely the creepiest hotel since The Shining. The visual impression Fink leaves is that of a haunting, richly textured painting. The film rightly won three awards at the prestigious Cannes film festival, more than any other film has before or since.

'The Hudsucker Proxy' (1994)

Somewhat of a departure from their previous, hard-edged films, The Hudsucker Proxy shared more in common with the playful screwball comedies of the 1930s than it did with the dark expressionism they had employed with Crossing and particularly Fink. Starring Tim Robbins as a buffoonish Cooperesque Joe Schmoe who inadvertently catapults to fame at the whim of a machinating corporate snake, played with splendid malice by Paul Newman, the film works best as a delightful comic diversion. Jennifer Jason Leigh especially has the opportunity to generate a great deal of laughs with her on the money Rosalind Russell recreation. And the elaborate, baroque set designs are among the best in the Coen canon.

'The Man Who Wasn't There' (2001)

Probably the most under-appreciated, unseen Coen film, There is more than just clever noir pastiche. It is a bleak tragicomedy of tender, understated poetry. No Cold War-era zeitgeist film is quite as inclusive as this one, which manages to include Life Magazine, UFOs and the advent of dry-cleaning in its portrait. Billy Bob Thornton's Ed may not have much dialogue, but his stoic performance is an intensely evocative depiction of the human condition. Tony Shalhoub also turns a hilarious performance as Ed's loquacious attorney.