Movie review: No Country for Old Men

by John P. Meyer

Pneumatic murder devices, antelope hunters, blood trails and drug deals turned to gunfights.

In crafting No Country for Old Men - only the second film to be made from a Cormac McCarthy novel (Billy Bob Thornton tried it for All the Pretty Horses in 2000) - the Coen Brothers have played it straight and spare. Which is to say, they've remained true to both the story and the mood of this existentialist tale of greed, violence and unrelenting pursuit played out across the vast openness of the West Texas borderlands.

The story follows good ol' boy antelope hunter Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) from the time he stumbles upon the fly-blown remains of an epic Rio Grande badlands firefight (and walks off with a satchel full of cash) through his attempts to evade the drug runners and hired killers sent to get their dusty money back. Moss may be a tad slower than his trigger-happy adversaries, but he's in no way stupid - his resourcefulness stems from a life lived in a land of limited resources, and under ordinary circumstances these skills might see him safely through. (What he accomplishes with duct tape and tent poles is a thing of MacGyver-ish beauty.) Ironically, it's an act of simple kindness - typical of rural Texas behavior - which precipitates his undoing.

This is also the story of Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), who's seen a sea change in the tenor of crime in his bailiwick since he came on as sheriff 40-some-odd years ago. He just can't seem to wrap his mind around the level of violence and disregard for life he sees in outlaws connected with the lucrative cross-border drug trade. Ed Tom's deputy, Wendell (Garret Dillahunt) serves as an engagingly naive sidekick.

The crosshairs of this austere narrative, however, come to settle unwaveringly on the character of hired killer Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), upon whom the descriptor "loose cannon" may be bestowed with considerable understatement. To call Chigurh relentless would be tantamount to conferring the moniker of "ruckus" on the Cretaceous extinction event. In addition to being deadly efficient at being deadly, hit man Chigurh is something of a homespun philosopher with a penchant for 50/50 life-or-death games of chance. It's not that he won't give you a fair shake on the outcome - it's that he forces you to play in the first place. Mr. Bardem's portrayal of one of modern literature's most fascinating amoral villains is nothing short of breathtaking; when his wacked-out wide-eyed gaze targets the camera we cringe in our theater seats.

Chigurh is the sort of practitioner of the death-dealing arts who is constantly looking for ways expand his repertoire, and thus his acquisition of a compressed air cylinder complete with pneumatically-powered cow-killing bolt-driver attachment, which he employs primarily (though not exclusively) on door locks. When circumstances require more potent weaponry he opts for a sawed-off silenced 12-gauge autoloading shotgun. He's also adept at the sort of auto-surgery that was never envisioned by whoever came up with the phrase, "physician, heal thyself."

Difficult as it is to shift the attention of our reportage from Mr. Bardem, it must be said that Josh Brolin has matured into an actor of considerable accomplishment. Combined with his role as the despicable Detective Trupo in American Gangster, his lead role in this movie should hoist his star several notches higher above the Hollywood horizon. Aside from a few conversations with his wife, Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald) and his lawman pursuer, Carson Wells (Woody Harrelson), Brolin's primary interactions are with himself during periods of solitude, where his ability to convey the internal workings of a desperate and determined man's decision-making process are tested and found up to the challenge. In the best tradition of Cormac McCarthy storytelling, much of the dramatic progression must be deduced from context and subtle verbal cues; the observer is forced into the role of active participant.

As might be expected, Tommy Lee Jones excels in a role which places him firmly in his comfort zone; he's a good-hearted world-weary wise-cracking lawman who doesn't let the fact that he's out of his element stop him from doing everything he can to carry out the responsibilities of his office, which oddly in the present circumstances means he's trying to save the life of a man who's running from the law.

Wherever these Coen boys came from (Minnesota, it turns out) they've got the rural Texas lifestyle and idiom down pat: the dialog is sly and sharp; conversations take their own sweet time and are couched in the comfortable cadences of aphorism and rote. In fact, it's this tendency of native people (and here I refer to residents of a place who've put down life-long roots) to engage in predictable responses to routine situations which demonstrates the terrible power that someone from outside can exert over them by employing unexpected counter-responses - as the anti-social Chigurh is so wont to do.

Musical scoring is blatantly absent - aside from the closing credits there is no accompaniment whatsoever to events being played out onscreen, and this absence translates to a stylistic device which effectively renders the proceedings greater dramatic weight. From start to finish, things remain as quiet as an air-conditioned West-Texas motel room - except for dialog and the occasional muffled gunshot. The only incidental music comes from a Mariachi band serenading a wounded Llewelyn Moss the morning after he's crossed into Mexico - and this peppy melody is quickly silenced when the musicians catch a glimse of the bloody wounds hidden beneath his jacket.

As with the score, any hint of the kind of mordant humor injected into a Coen script such as Fargo or Barton Fink is nowhere to be found: the movie tells a cold-blooded and soul-chilling story of ordinary folks getting all caught up in extraordinary homicidal deeds - just like the book.

ALL THE SPANISH YOU NEED (EXCEPT FOR "CERVEZA"): "Médico, por favor." - Llewelyn to Mariachi band members

THAT DON'T BEGIN TO COVER IT: "Got some hard bark on 'im." - Ed Tom Bell to fellow sheriff, re. Anton Chiguhr

APPARENTLY SO: "They always say the same thing: 'You don't have to do this.' " - Anton Chigurh to Carla Jean Moss, after she's told him: "You don't have to do this."

PRETTY WELL, THANKS: "How's the Larrys holding up?" - western wear store owner to Llewelyn Moss, as the latter returns to the store wearing only a hospital gown and the Larry Mahan boots he purchased a few days prior

WRONG: "The coin don't have no say - it's just you." - Carla Jean to Chigurh