The barren landscape of Texas is the perfect backdrop for the web of violence, murder and existential crisis that is found in No Country for Old Men. This is a film that treks deep into the human conscience and soul, not afraid to dirty its hands with the lesser aspects of human nature.
When Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin, American Gangster) stumbles upon a failed drug deal complete with dead bodies, kilos and $2 million, the plot officially sets in motion. Moss sends his wife Carla (Kelly Macdonald, Lassie) to her mother's house and decides he will be keeping the money.
Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem, Love in the Time of Cholera) is the movie's incarnation of pure evil and is chasing after Moss. If the bizarre name (pronounced 'sugar' in a Southern accent) isn't enough, Chigurh's choice of weaponry - a silenced shotgun and a compressed air gun - and his inexplicable haircut push Chigurh beyond comprehension, complementing his lack of a conscience and capacity for senseless harm.
Bardem is able to make Chigurh believable by avoiding Hannibal Lector-esque overacting, instead going for pure realism. Chigurh's philosophy on life slowly reveals itself as the movie progresses, and as his motivations are explained, his actions become that much more heinous. Bardem's dead stare and deep voice make him as scary as any cinematic horror villain.
Called in to clean up the mess is Sheriff Ed Bell, Tommy Lee Jones (In the Valley of Elah), playing the classic "Tommy Lee Jones role" with style. Bell is a folksy, well-intentioned man who lays out his philosophy on life to those willing to listen. Bell faces the immediate problem of stopping more violence from occurring, and the more philosophical question of whether he can stop anything in the long run.
The characters' decisions and consequences are the core of No Country. Moss is at heart trying his best to make a better life for himself and his wife, while his personal journey threatens ramifications beyond himself. Meanwhile, Bell's old age causes him to question himself constantly, and despite his years of professionalism, the unshaken entity of evil seems to be breaking down his stoic outlook.
Chigurh's concepts of fate and predestination help him to avoid the difficult questions faced by Bell and Llewelyn. At one point, bounty hunter Carson Wells (Woody Harrelson) asks Chigurh if he knows how crazy he truly is. Chigurh doesn't answer, but as his philosophy on life shows, he is merely following his own fate. Chigurh is a machine, proficient and precise without the burden of human empathy.
No Country is directed by the Coen Brothers, the same siblings who have made a name for themselves with films as diverse as Fargo and The Big Lebowski. No Country keeps with the directors' trademark contrasts of good and evil, extreme violence and a note for dark humor within their dramas.
After the lackadaisical box office numbers and reception of The Ladykillers, No Country certainly functions as a return to form. Bardem's psychopath is destined for a supporting actor Oscar nod, and the direction is certainly Oscar-worthy.
The cult of the Coens' mixes with the dramatic style of writer Cormac McCarthy, who wrote the novel of the same title. McCarthy's cynicism and exploration of violence makes for a solid match. Some of the monologues, particularly those of Sheriff Bell, are lifted verbatim (or nearly so) out of the novel.
As seems to be the popular style for thrillers these days, the ending might leave some viewers unsatisfied. One is ultimately left with two options: choose to think the Coens simply dropped the ball on the ending and leave it at that, or choose to think they might have chosen that ending for a reason and see if you can take anything out of it.
Ultimately, No Country functions strongly on all fronts. Immensely entertaining and intellectually satisfying, it works the emotions in the theater and burrows its ideas in the dark reaches of the mind.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
