Director: Joel
Coen, Ethan Coen | Starring:
Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin,
Woody Harrelson
Released: 2007
| Runtime: 122m
| Rating (out of 5):
****½ |
|
Who would have thought
a guy with a Raggedy Andy haircut could be so menacing? Javier Bardem
as the maniacal hitman/killer in No Country for Old Men makes
the Terminator
look like a girly man. And it's all because he's flesh and blood and
not some titanium skeleton from the future who's been programmed to
kill. Well, at first Bardem's character, Anton Chigurh, is paid to
kill, and then he just sort of freelances because he thinks it's the
right thing to do. Getting in his way is Josh Brolin, who, according
to the Coen Brothers, was actually a casting mistake. They meant,
or so they claimed in Esquire,
to hire Josh's father, Jim, in the role and set it in 2007. Because
of the whole Jim/Josh screw up, they had to set the film in the early
80s in order to make the younger Brolin's Vietnam Vet character and
Josh's age match the timeframe. It's bullshit, of course, as there's
no way that crap would happen, and plenty of ways around changing
the entire timeframe of the movie (making him a Desert Storm vet,
for instance), and was probably just the Coen brothers fucking with
Esquire in trying to build some lore around the film. Needless
to say, they didn't need gimmickry to make the thing successful. And,
as it turns out, Josh Brolin can actually act! Now it seems a little
more okay that Diane
Lane married him--just a little. As a downtrodden hunter who serendipitously
comes across a whole bunch of money at the scene of a massacre, Brolin
plays it with the perfect mix of restrained "oh my god" and "oh shit."
At first we get the sense his stone cold character is un-phased by
the devastatingly violent scene onto which he stumbles, but soon we
see that beneath his gruff exterior he has a week spot for human frailty.
And, of course, that's his undoing. Especially when he soon gains
an ungodly nemesis in the form of Chigurh and his retarded pageboy
haircut. The haircut that says to people, "go ahead and laugh, I dare
you." Bardem's character is complicated and uncomplicated at the same
time. On the one hand he is a heartless killer with no sympathy or
regard for human life, and on the other he is a benevolent angel of
death who can spare a man's life with the flip of a coin. It goes
to the fact that all lives have the same value to him--absolutely
none. Despite this, he is a man of principle. He will not give up.
He keeps his word and always follows through on promises and threats.
What else can you want from an assassin? Bardem plays him with an
even intensity that all emanates through his crazy eyes and his clipped
sentences. There's no Jack
Nicholson over-the-top crazy going on here, which would have completely
ruined the understated and deeply disturbing quality of the film.
Tommy Lee Jones as the weathered Sheriff Bell who is trying to unravel
the mystery of the original drug deal gone bad and the subsequent
trail of bodies can't help but play hangdog at this point in his career.
The man just embodies the part of worn Texan lawman, and plays it
with a tired restraint and relative resignation and ambivalence that
also makes the tone picture perfect. He just seems sad, which adds
to the general sense he has that the world has changed for the worse
and that there's no going back. It's funny that it took a movie like
this to put the Coen Brothers back into a Blood
Simple/Barton
Fink/Miller's
Crossing/Fargo
frame of mind. Gone is the wackiness of O
Brother, Where Art Thou?, The
Hudsucker Proxy, The
Big Lebowski, The
Ladykillers and Intolerable
Cruelty, and back is the stylized bleakness that they're so good
at. Granted, Raising
Arizona is probably my favorite of their movies (followed closely
by Barton Fink, Fargo, The Big Lebowski
and then Miller's Crossing) but even that movie had its dark
moments. In what almost seemed like an homage to Raising Arizona's
"unless round's funny" scene, Bardem's character interacts with an
old clerk in a desolate roadside store. It turns out to be one of
most tense scenes in the movie, as Bardem literally gambles the man's
life on the flip of a coin. Obviously not round, obviously not funny.
The film, as are all Cormac
McCarthy books, is extremely violent and hardly what I'd call
uplifting. In fact, I had the one-two punch of seeing this movie and
then launching directly into reading The
Road. It wasn't a great few days for my sunny-meter, if you know
what I'm saying. Despite the grimness of it all, this film is amazingly
affective at conveying a story where there really is none. Of course
that's been a trait of the Coen brothers for years. Take a simple
plot that usually involves kidnapping, money or a scam or some sort
and use the characters to drive the plot to its logical conclusion--while
said plot often takes a back seat to the interaction of the characters.
Nothing's really different in No Country, as the money becomes
a kind of afterthought (as it's basically just tossed over a bridge
into some weeds at one point), and only acts as a catalyst to bring
these characters together in a battle of wills and a fight to the
death. Good times. [movie theater]
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