No Country for Old Men

The best film of 2007 so far is the Coen Brothers adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men. While 2007 has been an exceptional year for film, with films like American Gangster and 3:10 to Yuma exceeding anything put out in 2006, No Country for Old Men even exceeds those two excellent films. The Coen Brothers have crafted a masterpiece of a film here, surpassing their previous greatness and, I think, putting out the best film of their careers thus far. While Fargo and The Big Lebowski are excellent pieces of filmmaking, the style and contrast within No Country for Old Men puts it a step above anything they’ve done to date, in my view.

No Country for Old Men opens with shots of desolate West Texas. We are introduced to the film via voiceover, as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) describes the changing times and tells of times past, lamenting of the rise in violent crime and how people appear to kill for no reason. Bell is a man burdened with the violence and reality of his job and he doesn’t like where the world appears to be headed. He longs for a simpler time and the harrowing realities of his occupation force him to remain incredibly pessimistic. No Country for Old Men is, in effect, Sheriff Bell’s story. He is the “old man” and it may well be there there is nowhere left for an old seed like Bell to go. As the plot unfolds and the shocking violence of the story takes place, we begin to feel a greater kinship to Bell than ever thought possible.

The tale begins as we are introduced to an ice-cold killer in Anton Chigurh, played incredibly by Javier Bardem. Bardem’s Chigurh is an incredible film villain in every single way. Chigurh is understated, cold, calculating, deadly, and sadistic. He also demonstrates a black humour throughout this story and works on a contract with himself, somehow containing the madness within through a strange haircut and a growling demeanor. Chigurh is introduced escaping from the police department by strangling a guard. He heads back to his business at hand after the brief diversion, taking along with him his weapon of choice: a cattle gun. Chigurh kills indiscriminately as he tries to find his money, which was lost as the result of a drug deal gone bad in the middle of the West Texas desert.

The money, fortunately and unfortunately, was found by Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin). Moss appears to be a sort of troublemaker, in a way, and he stumbles upon the money as he is hunting antelope. Moss takes the money and leaves, but struggles with his conscience. He returns to the violent scene of the drug deal gone bad and offers some water to one of the shooting victims. As a result, Moss gets caught in the middle of the situation by Chigurh and his gang and ends up being pursued by Chigurh in a cat-and-mouse game for survival. This cat-and-mouse game jumps from town to town, from hotel to hotel, with Chigurh fast on the trail of Moss and Moss becoming ever-so-resourceful to try to stay alive and keep his wife, Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald), safe.

As all of this occurs, Sheriff Bell is on the trail, too. He tries to keep Carla Jean safe and is tracking Chigurh, all the while knowing that fate is creeping around every corner. The idea of the inexorable slide into violence, age, and reality chases Sheriff Bell as quickly as the events unfold. As we watch the scenes develop and the characters work within the framework set by the story, we watch an evolution of sorts as the men involved cope and adapt to the situation’s motion. As this is the central focus of No Country for Old Men, the film’s structure takes on a special meaning.

The structure of No Country for Old Men creates its own focal point by drawing our attention off of the standard cat-and-mouse situation and on to the surrounding elements of fear, desperation, resourcefulness, and change. No Country for Old Men is a film about what men do in situations that impact their lives. It’s not about who gets the loot, who gets away, or whether the character’s “problems” are solved. The Coen Brothers know within this context that the “problems” are not existent to be solved and remedied but rather to be observed. The notion of Sheriff Bell, then, becomes even more elementary as we lose key characters when we don’t expect to. It is an observation rather than a standard unfolding narrative.

Javier Bardem, as mentioned, is incredible here. His character represents the change the Sheriff Bell is afraid of. Chigurh represents this violent evolution, in fact, in such brutality and energy that it becomes mesmerizing. Like other prominent villains before him, Bardem’s Chigurh represents more than just an antagonistic presence in the plotline of a film. Instead, Chigurh represents the unrelenting nature of both the passage of time and the unsympathetic ear of what we fear the most. He is walking, talking, ugly death, in a way, and his reality is a reality that cannot be fought off. Bardem’s portrayal here is unrelenting and chilling, bringing forth a sea of emotions that create an almost panicked response of black humour and chilling terror. It’s a marvelous, marvelous thing.

Then there’s Tommy Lee Jones in perhaps his finest performance in recent memory. His subdued, stoic emotion is incredible here as he represents all that is tired, worn, and used about the old world and the passage of time. Jones’ Bell is a character worn out with his life and with his job. As he reaches the conclusion, he is still worn out but he faces a new enemy: time. No Country for Old Men relies on Jones’ character the most because he is the guiding light here. Nobody acts reasonable, nobody really earns the moniker of traditional protagonist, but yet there must be some sort of logic or reason behind this monstrosity of an enemy in Bardem’s Chigurh. So, as the film goes on, we begin to rely on Jones’ Bell to guide the way. We begin to take solace in Bell as the remainder of the film supplies us with darkness. Jones needs to represent a comfort here, and he does so with quiet eloquence. He deserves a look, for sure, come Oscar time.

I could go on and on about this film, I really could. Josh Brolin is on-point to, continuing a string of really great performances. The cinematography is beautiful, gorgeous, and haunting. The violence is sudden and shocking. The screenplay is tremendous, with a jolting script packed with gobs of humour and frenetic glee. The sound editing creates such tension that is becomes almost impossible to bear it. It is, I think, the Coen Brothers finest film and the mark of excellence on their tremendous career.

Trailer: