NO
COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN
By TODD McCARTHY
Variety, 5/18/07
 A
scorching blast of tense genre filmmaking
shot through with rich veins of melancholy, down-home philosophy
and dark, dark humor, "No Country for Old Men" reps a
superior match of source material and filmmaking talent. Cormac
McCarthy's bracing and brilliant novel is gold for the Coen brothers,
who have handled it respectfully but not slavishly, using its built-in
cinematic values while cutting for brevity and infusing it with
their own touch. Result is one of the their very best films, a bloody
classic of its type destined for acclaim and potentially robust
B.O. returns upon release later in the year.
Reduced to its barest bones, the story, set in 1980, is a familiar
one of a busted drug deal and the violent wages of one man's misguided
attempt to make off with ill-gotten gains. But writing in marvelous
Texas vernacular that injected surpassing terseness with gasping
velocity, McCarthy created an indelible portrait of a quickly changing
American West whose new surge of violence makes the land's 19th
century legacy pale in comparison.
For their part, Joel and Ethan Coen, with both credited equally
for writing and directing, are back on top of their game after some
less than stellar outings. While brandishing the brothers' customary
wit and impeccable craftsmanship, pic possess the vitality and invention
of top-drawer 1970s American filmmaking, quite an accomplishment
these days. It's also got one of cinema's most original and memorable
villains in recent memory, never a bad thing in attracting an audience,
especially as so audaciously played by Javier Bardem.
Set in rugged, parched West Texas (but filmed in New Mexico) and
brilliantly shot by Roger Deakins in tones that resemble shafts
of wheat examined in myriad different lights, yarn commences with
several startling sequences: A crime suspect (Bardem) turns the
tables on his arresting officer, strangles him with his handcuffs,
then kills a driver for his car using a cattle stun gun; in the
middle of nowhere, a hunter, Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), stumbles
across five trucks, several bullet-ridden corpses, a huge stash
of drugs and $2 million in a briefcase, which he impulsively takes.
When he returns to the scene of the crime that night, he's shot
at by unknown men and chased into a nearby river by a fierce dog
before getting away.
Central figures in this tale of pursuit are rounded out by Ed Tom
Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), the local county sheriff, who tours the
truck crime scene on horseback and in short order gets Moss in his
sights, although not as quickly as does Bardem's Anton Chigurh,
who is able to tune in to a transponder in the moneybag the unsuspecting
Moss has stashed in a heating duct in a local motel.
Death walks hand in hand with Chigurh wherever he goes, unless he
decides otherwise. Clearly a killer by profession, the lucid, direct-talking
man considers anyone else who crosses his path fair game; if everything
you've done in your life has led you to him, he may explain to his
about-to-be victims, your time might just have come. "You don't
have to do this," the innocent invariably insist to a man whose
murderous code dictates otherwise. Occasionally, however, he will
allow someone to decide his own fate by coin toss, notably in a
tense early scene in an old filling station marbled with nervous
humor.
In addition to the pared down dialogue, pic is marked by silences,
wind-inflected ones to be found naturally in the empty expanses
of the West, as well as breathlessly suspenseful interior interludes,
notably an ultra-Hitchcockian sequence in which Moss, aware that
Chigurh has tracked him to an old hotel, listens and waits in his
room as his hunter comes quietly to his door.
It's amazing how much carnage ensues given that the action essentially
focuses upon three men playing cat-and-mouse across a beautiful
and brutal landscape. Three guys in the wrong motel room at the
wrong time get the treatment from Chigurh, and a cocky intermediary
(Woody Harrelson) for the missing money's apparent rightful owner
makes the mistake of getting in between the trigger-happy assassin
and Moss. And they're far from the only victims in a story that
disturbingly portrays the nature of the new violence stemming, in
the view advanced here, from the combination of the drug trade and
the disintegration of societal mores.
The manner in which the narrative advances is shocking and nearly
impossible to predict; viewers who haven't read the best-seller
will be gripped by the situations put onscreen and sometimes afraid
to see what they fear will happen next. Those familiar with the
story will be gratified to behold a terrific novel make the shift
in medium managed, for once, with such smarts.
The Coens build a sense of foreboding from the outset without being
heavy or pretentious about it. They have consistently worked in
the crime genre, of course, beginning with their first film, "Blood
Simple," whose seriousness perhaps mostly approximates the
tone of this one, although there are overlaps as well with "Miller's
Crossing" and "Fargo."
But while they have eliminated one especially poignant character
from the book in the interests of time, slashed Bell's distinctive
philosophical ruminations and perhaps unduly hastened the ending,
the brothers have honored McCarthy's serious themes, the integrity
of his characters and his essential intentions.
They have also beefed up the laughs, the majority of which stem
from the unlikely source of the cold-blooded Chigurh. From the outset,
the powerful and commanding Bardem leaves no doubt that Chigurh
would just as soon kill you as ask you the time of day. His conversation
brooks no nonsense or evasion. But it is the character's utter lack
of humor that Bardem and the Coens cleverly offer as the source
of the character's humorousness, and the actor makes the most of
this approach in a diabolically effective performance.
Jones would practically seem to have been born to play Cormac McCarthy
roles, and he proves it here in a quintessential turn as a proud
longtime sheriff dismayed by what he sees things coming to. Holding
his own in distinguished company after long dwelling in TV and schlock,
Brolin gives off young Nick Nolte vibes as an ordinary man who tries
to outsmart some big boys in order to get away with the score of
his life.
Scottish thesp Kelly Macdonald registers potently as Moss' country
wife, while tasty supporting turns are delivered by Harrelson, Stephen
Root as the latter character's employer, Rodger Boyce as a sheriff
who commiserates with Bell, Barry Corbin as Bell's crusty old uncle,
Ana Reeder as a swimming pool floozy who offers Moss some company
and Gene Jones as the old fellow Chigurh makes call his own fate.
Deakins' stunning location work and precision framing is joined
by Jess Gonchor's production design, the Coens' cutting under their
usual pseudonym of Roderick Jaynes, Carter Burwell's discreet score
and expert sound work to make "No Country for Old Men"
a total visual and aural pleasure.
A Miramax (in U.S.), Paramount Vantage (international)
presentation and release of a Scott Rudin/Mike Zoss production.
Produced by Rudin, Ethan Coen, Joel Coen. Executive producers, Robert
Graf, Mark Roybal. Directed, written by Joel Coen, Ethan Coen, based
on the novel by Cormac McCarthy.
Ed Tom Bell - Tommy Lee Jones
Anton Chigurh - Javier Bardem
Llewelyn Moss - Josh Brolin
Carson Wells - Woody Harrelson
Carla Jean Moss - Kelly Macdonald
Wendell - Garret Dillahunt
Loretta Bell - Tess Harper
Ellis - Barry Corbin
Man who hires Wells - Stephen Root
El Paso Sheriff - Rodger Boyce
Carla Jean's Mother - Beth Grant
Poolside Woman - Ana Reeder |
