No Country for Old Men (R)

“No Country For Old Men,” like “Fargo,” “Reservoir Dogs,” and like dramas, paints a crime, the opportunists seeking to take advantage of it, and a retribution seen as a force of nature – or, more simply, inevitability. Directed by the Coen Brothers (and snagging a ‘Best Picture’ Oscar at the 2008 Academy Awards), the film revisits themes present in their earlier work while layering the story between three men. Taking place in a West Texas town, it’s a film absent of morals, but full of vision. Its third act, while bizarre, leads you down a path to its dreamlike and unavoidable conclusion. 

The film is a concert of cinematography and acting elevated to a degree as to become superlative. We’ve seen Joel and Ethan Coen do this before – such as in the aforementioned “Fargo” – yet here is stripped down to a smaller cast and amplified. We have the law, Sheriff Ed Tom (Tommy Lee Jones) who opens the film with a monologue about the changing times. His grandfather was a sheriff, never carried a gun, and Ed Tom wonders how he would do in today’s world. We see Ed Tom is true to his word: along a hunt that spans most of the film, he pulls his gun only once, in a scene at a strip motel that is as carefully crafted as it is tense. 

Ed Tom is set against two other men: one, a retired welder named Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), and the other, a ghostlike killer named Anton Chigurh, played by Javier Bardem in a performance that won him an Oscar for ‘Best Actor in a Supporting Role.’ The film opens simply, with Moss, while hunting, stumbling across the aftermath of a shootout in the desert and a briefcase containing $2 million. Thinking he could take it without consequence was a mistake. Doing so sets loose Chigurh on him. The ensuing cat-and-mouse game between them occurs as an end upon itself. Llewelyn represents opportunity, Chigurh consequence, and Ed Tom as a rational man who tries to make sense out of the situation and fails. 

Like “Fargo,” “No Country For Old Men” supplies its cast with peculiar dialogue that draws you into its world that much more. There’s no strong accent this time, but a host of southern words we’re used to hearing and oddities of sentence structure that lets the dialogue wash over you. A good portion of the film, beginning in Texas, jumping to Mexico and then back to Texas again, centers on Moss as he attempts to evade Chigurh. 

It’s here that I feel the Academy dropped the ball in failing to acknowledge Brolin for his performance. Sandwiched between Lee Jones and Bardem, he becomes an integral part of the film. Brolin is a talented actor and has turned in great performances before, as in Dennis Villaneuve’s “Sicario.” However, here he does possibly the best work I’ve seen. He’s foolish, yet smart, industrious, and stubborn. He has a simple relationship with his wife (Kelly Macdonald) whom he sends away when he realizes he’s in danger. He’s retired and she works at Wal-Mart. The $2 million represents a bigger life; though you get the impression even Moss doesn’t believe he’ll get to enjoy it. 

The script is detailed and precise, and Bardem performs as though he were made for the role. He sports a peculiar haircut, and walks around with an oxygen tank that doubles as a cattle gun and carries a shotgun and silencer that are longer than his body. He performs kills, he intimidates, he threatens, all while remaining under detection. “He’s like a ghost,” Lee Jones remarks in one scene to a fellow officer. We don’t disagree.

Bardem’s strength lies in his lines and the dispassionate way he delivers them. Early on he performs kills with little in the way of dialogue. However, one scene as Chigurh decides the fate of a gas station attendant is especially harrowing in its effect. “What’s the most you’ve ever lost on a coin toss?” he asks. The attendant made the mistake of asking Chigurh a personal question. We know Chigurh wants to kill him. But the way the scene is written, and its oddity of an ending are brilliance, both on the part of Bardem’s acting and the Coens’ script.

It takes more than acting and cinematography to make a film, and the Coens know it. Of course, both are superb, a credit to the cast and Roger Deakins, the Director of Photography. But “No Country For Old Men” is blended elegantly with its camera shots and its score, done by Carter Burwell, known for the “Twilight” saga, among other things. It also blends the morals of its characters with the screenplay to finesse. Ed Tom in particular struggles to accept the events of what is happening in his small town. He acts with deference toward these events, knows what is in store for Moss, yet attempts to help him anyway. Ed Tom wants to quit. The times are changing and he feels ill prepared for them. In a way, he’s right. “You can’t stop what’s coming,” one character advises. “It ain’t all waiting on you. That’s vanity.” 

In a way, “No Country for Old Men” is as illusory as its antagonist. It represents events that begin and end, and treats them with a sense of finality. Chigurh is a force of nature. Had Moss not taken that briefcase, he’d still exist, only we wouldn’t see him. But Moss did take the case, and because of it unleashed a set of events that play out in a tense, inviting, and inevitable fashion. A warning: “No Country for Old Men” is a introspective film, its body contained in unclear scenes with unclear motives. If you’re looking for a straightforward narrative, you may be disappointed. But by and by this is a well-made and engaging film that is one of the Coens’ best. 

– by Mark Ziobro