It's been eleven long years since the release of Fargo, the Coen Brothers' undeniable masterpiece. The tale of a kidnapping gone horribly wrong, it was told with unparalleled wit and gusto, and the film permanently placed the Coen's on the critical and artistic map. Now with the first literary adaptation of their careers they've created a masterful, dark, and truly exhilirating neo-Western parable that will no doubt be considered one of the defining films of 2007.
In this case, the object of that tool's fancy is Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a good old boy Texan and Vietnam vet who, rather unluckily, stumbles upon $2 million at the scene of a drug deal gone wrong. Vaguely aware of the implications of such an immense find, Moss hastily sends his unknowing wife Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald) off to her mother's and hits the road. Chigurgh is hired by an investor (Stephen Root), whose finances are closely tied to the success of the botched deal, to track down the stolen loot. As Moss makes his way from town to town Chigurgh is never far behind, leaving a trail of death and destruction in his wake. Tommy Lee Jones lends his familiar world-weary wisdom as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, the man assigned the harrowing task of tracking down Moss before it's too late. "You think this boy Moss got any notion of the sorts that're huntin' him," asks a fellow officer. Bell shrewdly replies, "I don't know, he ought to. He's seen the same things I've seen, and it's certainly made an impression on me."
Moss and Chigurgh quickly settle into a tense game of cat and mouse, Chigurgh always just a few steps behind his target. Moss proves himself a worthy adversary as he, for awhile at least, manages to outsmart his pursuer. Inevitably, Moss and Chigurgh are forced into a showdown. One of the most tense moments in the film comes just moments before their meeting, in which we hear the incessant beeping of the transducer Chigurgh has used to locate the tracking device buried amongst the $2 million. He paces just outside Moss' motel room door, his thick boots thumping across the wood floor. We hear him halt just outside the door and immediately identify the odd screeching noise; he's begun to unscrew the lightbulb. It's a terrifying moment, filled with dread for both Moss and the viewers. In another scene, we see Chigurgh exit a house after conversing with someone he may or may not have killed. He stops on the porch, and quietly checks the bottom of his boots. Nothing beyond that must be said for us to realize that the person inside that house, unlucky enough to have crossed paths with such a man, is done for. To create a sense of interminable terror from such a rudimentary action is a near impossible feat, but one that the Coen Brothers seemingly accomplish with great ease.
Here the Coen's have chosen to step out of their comfort zone, abandoning their usual buoyant techniques for a much more sinister, mischievous tone, and they pull it off beautifully. The sparse, arid landscapes of Southern Texas prove to be a perfect canvas for their palette. The twistedly sharp dialogue is nearly as breathtaking as Roger Deakins' bone-dry cinematography. The first 90% of the film is absolutely flawless. The last 20 minutes or so may leave even the most attentive viewer with a question or two, but by then the ride's been so fantastic that the majority of viewers won't even mind.
The film opens with the dryly comforting voice of Sheriff Bell as he reflects over an experience as a young deputy in which he oversaw the execution of a man for murder. It is that reflection which embodies the axiom of the film. Just minutes before the man was schedule to be executed, "[he] said he'd been fixin' to kill someone for as long as he could remember. Said if I let him out of there, he'd kill somebody again. Said he was going to hell". The evil he sees in this boy is the very same he sees in Chigurh, and after decades as a lawman, Bell's learned that when it comes to monsters such as these, there's not much one can do beyond making sure they stay the hell out of the way when men like Chigurgh come barrelling through town. Bell knows better than anyone that this new country is a ruthless one, awash with drugs, and violence, certainly no place for the heroes of yesteryear.
Final grade: A
Just minutes into "No Country For Old Men", it becomes painfully clear that Javier Bardem's Antone Chigurgh is more than simply a force to be reckoned with. The most effective screen villain since Hannibal Lecter, Chigurgh sinisterly shuffles from kill to kill sporting a bowl-cut that would have brought even The Monkees to tears. His eyes sallow yet piercing, he speaks in a confident drawl, noisily dragging a compressed airgun behind him as he goes. The airgun, an instrument typically used on cows in the slaughterhouse, operates by projecting and then retracting a small steel bolt through the forehead. The sound of Chigurgh's weapon - no doubt heavy with the weight of its countless casualties - as it scrapes across the shoddy wooden floors of motel after motel, is more than enough to shoot a shiver done the spine (no pun intended).
In this case, the object of that tool's fancy is Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a good old boy Texan and Vietnam vet who, rather unluckily, stumbles upon $2 million at the scene of a drug deal gone wrong. Vaguely aware of the implications of such an immense find, Moss hastily sends his unknowing wife Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald) off to her mother's and hits the road. Chigurgh is hired by an investor (Stephen Root), whose finances are closely tied to the success of the botched deal, to track down the stolen loot. As Moss makes his way from town to town Chigurgh is never far behind, leaving a trail of death and destruction in his wake. Tommy Lee Jones lends his familiar world-weary wisdom as Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, the man assigned the harrowing task of tracking down Moss before it's too late. "You think this boy Moss got any notion of the sorts that're huntin' him," asks a fellow officer. Bell shrewdly replies, "I don't know, he ought to. He's seen the same things I've seen, and it's certainly made an impression on me."
Moss and Chigurgh quickly settle into a tense game of cat and mouse, Chigurgh always just a few steps behind his target. Moss proves himself a worthy adversary as he, for awhile at least, manages to outsmart his pursuer. Inevitably, Moss and Chigurgh are forced into a showdown. One of the most tense moments in the film comes just moments before their meeting, in which we hear the incessant beeping of the transducer Chigurgh has used to locate the tracking device buried amongst the $2 million. He paces just outside Moss' motel room door, his thick boots thumping across the wood floor. We hear him halt just outside the door and immediately identify the odd screeching noise; he's begun to unscrew the lightbulb. It's a terrifying moment, filled with dread for both Moss and the viewers. In another scene, we see Chigurgh exit a house after conversing with someone he may or may not have killed. He stops on the porch, and quietly checks the bottom of his boots. Nothing beyond that must be said for us to realize that the person inside that house, unlucky enough to have crossed paths with such a man, is done for. To create a sense of interminable terror from such a rudimentary action is a near impossible feat, but one that the Coen Brothers seemingly accomplish with great ease.
Here the Coen's have chosen to step out of their comfort zone, abandoning their usual buoyant techniques for a much more sinister, mischievous tone, and they pull it off beautifully. The sparse, arid landscapes of Southern Texas prove to be a perfect canvas for their palette. The twistedly sharp dialogue is nearly as breathtaking as Roger Deakins' bone-dry cinematography. The first 90% of the film is absolutely flawless. The last 20 minutes or so may leave even the most attentive viewer with a question or two, but by then the ride's been so fantastic that the majority of viewers won't even mind.
The film opens with the dryly comforting voice of Sheriff Bell as he reflects over an experience as a young deputy in which he oversaw the execution of a man for murder. It is that reflection which embodies the axiom of the film. Just minutes before the man was schedule to be executed, "[he] said he'd been fixin' to kill someone for as long as he could remember. Said if I let him out of there, he'd kill somebody again. Said he was going to hell". The evil he sees in this boy is the very same he sees in Chigurh, and after decades as a lawman, Bell's learned that when it comes to monsters such as these, there's not much one can do beyond making sure they stay the hell out of the way when men like Chigurgh come barrelling through town. Bell knows better than anyone that this new country is a ruthless one, awash with drugs, and violence, certainly no place for the heroes of yesteryear.
Final grade: A
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