No Country for Old Men

Days after seeing it, I am still haunted by No Country for Old Men. There is just something so effectual and uncompromising about it, that mere words will only begin to skim the surface of the cinematic excellence on display.

At its most simplistic, the film is a game of cat and mouse. The mouse here is Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a hunter who stumbles upon two million in cash after a drug deal gone wrong, and takes it thinking nothing of it. He tries to cover his tracks, but ends up letting the group looking for the money, figure out his identity. The cat is Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), a hit-man hired to find Moss and the money. But Chigurh is unconventional at best; he also happens to be bordering on mentally insane. And another man, a law man this time, Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), is on the trail of both men as they criss-cross around Texas.

Right up until its dénouement, the film is simply brilliant. Taut and thrilling, it blows right through the majority of its two hour runtime with ease. Even during moments of slowing down, the film stays right on track and never feels like it has run its course. It engages even when it appears that nothing is happening. The Coen Brothers truly crafted what appears at first glance to be a masterpiece, even if it is their first real shot at something that is not indelibly and inarguably their own. Even without reading Cormac McCarthy's novel, I know that the Coens have done it justice, even with their bitterly twisted and dark sense of humour scattered throughout the film.

But all of that comes to a standstill as the film concludes. The last twenty or so minutes feel like hours as the film wraps itself up, and it almost feels like these scenes belong to another movie entirely (one that borders on being pretentious and monotonous). I realize now that McCarthy's novel probably ends the same way, but it does not help provide closure to the fact that the movie is so break-neck paced right up until this happens. Its brilliance is shattered by what looks to be a series of tattered events thrown together to provide closure for all of the characters, alive or dead, and for its audience. It speaks volumes to the film's title, but it just does not feel satisfying compared to the rest of what we saw. Even with its enigmatic devices at play, I still cannot come to terms with how the film closes. It does haunt, and in a way, it may prove to be a significantly stronger ending as time rolls on. But as it stands now, it just feels weak.

What is also a bit of a surprise, and only seems to appear as the film concludes, is the music. It is not so obvious at first, but the majority of the film is audibly shown with just the sounds the characters make and no background music to speak of. This element is brilliantly used, as it helps intensify every situation and makes the film downright terrifying in some cases. It just helps truly make the film come together, and only helps establish the quick pacing even more so. It was definitely a surprise, and one that will probably help the lasting impact of the film become even stronger.

The lush and bloodsoaked visuals also help to define the film. Despite the film taking place mainly in deserted areas, or the desert itself, the camera manages to capture just the right essence of what the writing and acting is conveying. The isolation and the terror almost become characters themselves through these visuals, and are sure to be recognized as the award season rolls in.

The film's acting is also very well done. Brolin anchors the film and even when it is just the audience reacting to his attempts at saving his life, he manages to deliver the best performance of his career. He breathes life into Moss, and truly brings a sense of pathos to the character. We feel for him and his greedy mistake, and as he develops into a man unwilling to go down without a fight, he only manages to up the ante for himself countlessly. Jones, as the law man stuck on the fringe of every event, also does very well for himself. Most of his work is simply delivering dialogue, but it is delivered in such a fashionable sense that you feel like he is speaking to the bigger picture of things, and not just himself. I would have liked a bit more development in his character, but what little there is helps his performance greatly.

Supporting turns from Woody Harrelson and Kelly Macdonald are also done well, but are overshadowed by the main cast by both Brolin and Jones.

And even more of an overcast is Bardem as the ruthless Chigurh. He absolutely nails this character down to his very bones. If anyone is merely toying with the idea of seeing the film, it should be specifically for Bardem. His performance is calculating and plagued with petrifying silence. When he chooses to talk, his words sound like they are being given by the essence of evil. This is a man with a plan, but it is one that only belongs to him. His enigmatic presence is developed throughout the film, and never once does it feel particularly appropriate to understand where this menace comes from. Watching him on screen is a jolt to the heart, and will go down as one of the best performances of the decade. His terrible hair only helps to make his character that more scary and formidable.

No Country for Old Men is one of the best pictures of the year, even if it is flawed. Its brilliance and lasting impact with leave you haunted.

8.5/10.

Rural Texas can be hard on anyone, even a rugged and tough Sheriff with a lifetime of exposure to it. No Country for Old Men exemplifies the grit of deep Texas and there's nothing better than a good chase. Tommy Lee Jones as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell balances his dangerous chase for a monster assassin with the equally dangerous chase for a good ole' cowboy that comes down hard on the bad side of some very bad people.

Josh Brolin as Llewelyn Moss finds himself in a dangerous dilemma when he brushes up against a bloodbath of a drug deal gone terribly bad and a satchel with 2 million dollars inside. The man looking for that money is a dispassionate and inexpressive villain, Anton Chigurh played by Javier Bardem. The rest ensues as a thrilling triple narrative, from a determined man with 2 million dollars on the run, only hoping to escape the mess that he stumbled upon, an old man sheriff facing an evil like none he's ever seen, and a psychopathic killer, an unstoppable evil with no remorse and a extraordinary determination to find what is his.

With its blood-soaked scenes, grimy West Texas setting and haunting terror filled moments between characters, No Country for Old Men is both riveting and beautiful. The dialogue is flawlessly delivered and the performances are award worthy. With almost no music in the entire film you're left immersed and focused on how the Coens utilize sounds and silence to score the film. From wind gusts and boot steps on wood floors and concrete, to deafening silence within the dialogue, it's a score that's frightening and precise.

-Eric Statzer

I don't remember being so scared in a movie theater since "Don't Look Now" Here the Coen Brothers take everything a step further with exhilarating ease. The terror was genuine and not because we were rooting for Josh Brolin or anybody in particular. The terror was personal, Joel and Ethan Coen made that terror visceral and tangible. It has to do with our own nightmares. Josh Brolin was a perfect piece of casting because in a way he doesn't have many personal colors. He's one of the bunch, one of us and we could put ourselves in his shoes. That is the art of film narrative expressed in a way that we've never experienced before. I heard people old enough to have seen Hitchcock's "Psycho" in the theaters and what glued them to the screen was their own fear. Well, that's what I've experienced here. Javier Bardem is superb, considering that he's the reason for the fear. He carries a human/inhuman kind of strength and we know he'll get us, sooner or later and if we consider the ending of the film, he might still do. Worthy Oscar winners, all of it and all of them.

No Country for Old Men won four Academy Awards in 2007, including Best Picture and Best Director(s). Despite the critical acclaim, the Coen Brother's adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's novel was probably a bit of a head-scratcher to many people.

The film's narrative begins in familiar fashion, introducing you to the main characters and setting up the plot using recognized, established filmic devices. Llewelyn Moss stumbles upon a suitcase filled with cash and wants to keep it for himself. Anton Chigurh is the sociopath who will stop at nothing to get the cash back. Ed Bell is the Sheriff tasked with bringing Chigurh to justice and, it is presumed, keeping Moss and his wife, Carla Jean, from danger. In addition, there's a corporate backer, a hired gun, and a Mexican gang who are also after the cash (i.e., the McGuffin). So much for the usual narrative elements.

When the film continues far beyond the point that the expected narrative structure breaks down, viewers are left to grasp at what the film is actually about. What, if anything, is this film trying to say?

I propose that the film is, among other things, a meditation on the impotence of human and divine systems of justice in light of unflinching, unrelenting, random, radical evil. There are a number of elements in the film that indicate such a meditation, but one need not look much further than the meditations of Sheriff Bell, whose words begin and end the film. Consider:

"There was this boy I sent to the 'lectric chair at Huntsville Hill here a while back. My arrest and my testimony. He killt a fourteen-year-old girl. Papers said it was a crime of passion but he told me there wasn't any passion to it. Told me that he'd been planning to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he'd do it again. Said he knew he was going to hell. 'Be there in about fifteen minutes'. I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. The crime you see now, it's hard to even take its measure."

With these words, the film's "story line" unfolds, with Sheriff Bell trying, and failing, to be effective.

At the end of the film, the retired Sheriff Bell describes a dream to his wife:

"It was like {my father and I} was both back in older times and I was on horseback going' through the mountains of a night. Going' through this pass in the mountains. It was cold and there was snow on the ground and he rode past me and kept on going'. Never said nothing' going' by. He just rode on past... and he had his blanket wrapped around him and his head down and when he rode past I seen he was carryin' fire in a horn the way people used to do and I could see the horn from the light inside of it. 'Bout the color of the moon. And in the dream I knew that he was going' on ahead and he was fixin' to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold, and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up."

The film is nihilistic in both structure and content. If you would like to force a less despairing ending, Bell's dream could be interpreted as a ray of hope: a light shines in the darkness! On the other hand, it is a dream that he wakes up from.

I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. But that doesn't mean I can't try.

An opportunity presents to get rich quick, a stash of cash made up of bills thick as a brick, but your conscience sets a trail, for a reaper to assail, a real psycho, has a vessel with a kick. You start to make a run, but you're tracked down, these pursuers cause a grimace, and a frown, until you spot the hidden tracker, locater for deadly attacker, you make escape, but get injured, as you leave town. Determination keeps the story rolling on, everyone risks, the singing of, their own swan song, the lives of others are ignored, fate, luck, destiny explored, but the bounty counts for nothing, if you're long gone.

Some of the finest cinematic characters you'll encounter.