No Country For Old Men
Filmmakers Joel and Ethan Coen have put their unique stamp on film styles diverse in tone and in subject matter. Here, they adapt another man’s work, Cormac McCarthy’s novel, but still make it their own. No Country recollects Fargo in having huge, nearly alien American vistas populated by odd, clever, and violent people. Where Fargo’s vast Midwest was merely punctuated by terrible violence. The film’s bleak West Texas (portrayed by New Mexico) is nearly all hardscrabble survivalism and the tough guys who can survive there.
Javier Bardem is a sociopath on an easily diverted, murderous mission. He plays his killer with no regret, no anger, no passion, just a grim and terrifying practicality. One wonders how the day to day transactions in his life play out - can he even order a sandwich without stepping over a corpse n the way out?
The thorn in Bardem’s side is played by Josh Brolin. Brolin sports his American Gangster mustache and a cowboy hat, but this cat looks as though you could drop him behind enemy lines with a spoon and a three of clubs and he’d come out just fine. Brolin’s face is the wilderness that Bardem strides purposefully through. Vigilante style, he eludes his pursuer while drawing him closer.
Meanwhile, one of the titular old men, Tommy Lee Jones, whose life has brought him to this time (1980) where such inhuman acts can occur. The weariness of even having to comprehend, never mind investigate, such things pulls Jones’ face down and down until he looks like the battered and ancient landscape around him. Crime one leads to crime two, and the more he knows, the more he doesn’t want to know.
The film is a slow burn, not building, not petering out, just becoming gradually more nerve-wracking as each plot point makes itself known. It’s chilling and we the audience grow weary and jaded right along with Jones - but I felt it never flagged. The characters could have been lifted out of their prairie setting or small town milieu and dropped into ancient Greece or the fens of Europe, the struggle feels so classical. But Texas notions of courtesy and common sense muddle one’s ability to process these events in this dusty place.
Roger Deakins again directs the photography with his indefinable (by me) way that makes wide open spaces glorious or terrifying, small buildings cozy or menacing. He’s done it before (Fargo, The Shawshank Redemption) and he does it great here. One thing my companion and I noticed in particular was the spectacularly subtle and vivid sound design. Many scenes rely heavily on the character’s perception of sound, and we’re sucked right into the room with him, straining to hear that footfall that will decide our fates. Look for Craig Berkey at this year’s Oscars.
I haven’t read the novel (I won a copy at the screening for this) but it seems as though it ends on a very different note than the film. The film’s note doesn’t ring as true as the rest of the movie, but I found it still to be a solid, effective work of cinematic art.
MPAA Rating R-strong graphic violence, language
Release date 11/22/07
Time in minutes 122
Director Joel and Ethan Coen
Studio Paramount Vantage / Miramax
