No Country for Old Men

I saw "No Country for Old Men" last night. Sometimes, Scott Nehring deigns to publish my movie reviews on his review site. So as a favor to the friend I esteem so highly, I locked up my three old in a closet so I could concentrate better and then pounded out the following review this morning. After submitting it to him, he tells me he is on some kind of blog vacation 'til January and flatly refuses to publish. Fighting back tears, I quickly resurrected my own blog. Now you get to read the review as it was meant to be read - fresh from my keyboard.

No Country for Old Men

West Texastentialism

When I was living in Texas in the 80’s, I came across an article in the Houston Chronicle about rising crime in West Texas. It described local law enforcement thinly spread across thousands of square miles of barren territory. I’ll never forget the quote from one county sheriff. “We tell people that if they see something going on, to put the scope on ‘em and drop ‘em. And the grand jury will bless you for it.” Very early on in No Country for Old Men, we learn that as much as we long for that kind of simple and direct response to evil, this will not be that kind of movie. The villain tells a victim to “hold still” while he prepares to kill him. Shortly thereafter, the protagonist quietly implores an antelope in his rifle sights to “hold still.” And with this implicit comparison between animal and human slaughter, the film introduces the nihilism at its heart.

The movie concerns a hunter who accidentally discovers the loot from a drug deal gone bad, and the pursuit to recover the money that follows. The character most clearly in focus is Anton Chigurh, the sociopathic assassin sent to recover the money. Llewelyn Moss, the man on the run, is a human rabbit, who serves as an object of chase. The entire plot operates as an opportunity for Chigurh to blast a path of destruction across West Texas. He is as elemental as a force of nature, and much of the movie’s dialog would work just as well were he a tornado instead of a man. The third leg of the film’s character triad is a county sheriff Tom Bell. The sheriff spends his time futilely fretting over the randomness and meaninglessness in these events.

Through numerous quirky and cryptic speeches, the characters make much of chance and fate. In one memorable scene, which I can’t explicate in much detail for fear of introducing a spoiler, a character perfectly illustrates the existentialists’ “act of will” gambit to manufacture meaning in the face of an uncaring and cruel universe. But this defiance avails as little as any other response to inexplicable malevolence.

Philosophically, this movie is as empty as the West Texas landscapes on which it plays out. The Coen Brothers, however, demonstrate as they linger over the vacant vistas that there can be beauty in barrenness. The Coens show an obvious affection for the rough edges and throwbacks of regional America. They have a gift for casting salt-of-the-earth types in very minor roles. Their gift for dialog is also on display here. Their writing combines improbable and eccentric phraseology with authentic regionalisms. One effect is to make their films into sort of prosaic myths. Another is to introduce humor, though laughter seemed to me out of place in this story.

The acting is first rate. Javier Bardem as Chigurh probably draws the most attention, but Tommy Lee Jones’ sheriff is the best performance. He is laconic wisdom. He is laid back angst. Unfortunately, many of his monologues were so enigmatic that they seemed to be inserted solely so that film school professors could generate writing assignments.

The film would deserve a recommendation for technical skill, great acting and dialog, and as a kind of textbook specimen of nihilistic futility, but I have to refuse because of the completely muffed ending. The Coens inflict a mortal wound on their own creation, and it’s hard to understand why. An existential film should have an unsatisfying ending, even a deeply unsatisfying one. But this ending doesn’t even make sense in the context of the film’s own philosophy. I suppose some will come to the Coen’s rescue with tortured excuses, but when you fool around with purposelessness, it’s easy to lose your way in the end.