Ruminations on ‘No Country’

At the end of the No Country for Old Men screening and Q&A I went to Dec. 1, an old man stood up and voiced his opinion to actors Josh Brolin and Javier Bardem that the movie didn’t make much of a point, that it wasn’t entertaining, and that it was disgustingly gratuitously violent—it lacked any sort of redemption. Audience members (myself included) grumbled for the fogy to shut up or ask a question or for the moderator to shut the guy down, but we got taught a lesson: Brolin chastised us for coming down on the guy and gracefully pointed out how he appreciated that not everybody liked the movie. Basically I think he was glad to see that someone wasn’t afraid not to fawn. In Hollywood it’s an easy thing to forget—that revered people and films are not infallible and/or are open to taste. Brolin said the great thing, for him, about this movie was how open it was for interpretation. While No Country made him want to go home and hug his kids and do nice things for people, others may certainly be put off by its themes and depictions. In reflection, what I found interesting and somewhat poetic about this old man’s comments was that the title and theme of the film thus seemed to also apply to its viewership.

It’s certainly true that there’s little sense of the traditional Hollywood format here. After all, it’s based on a Cormac McCarthy book, so what kind of ending can it have? Despite knowing this, I found myself expecting a typical Hollywood twist; it never came, but I wasn’t disappointed and quickly came to terms with it. Joel and Ethan Coen seem to me the perfect duo to bring this to the screen. When you look at Fargo and No Country, the Coen brothers suddenly become the intelligent man’s Tarantino. Not that Pulp Fiction wasn’t brilliant. But there’s more of a purpose to the violence inherent in a Coen film; it seems less gratuitous than in, say, Reservoir Dogs, if at times just as pornographic. Strangely, too, the violence is such a part of the fabric of No Country, so pervasive, and the attitude toward it so indifferent, that the audience is quickly desensitized. The landscape of a McCarthy tale is so flat, so unemotional and disconnected, that it becomes easy to view what would in the real world be a tragedy as merely an occurrence. Violence toward women is not shown on screen here. Obviously it’s indicated in the book, and thus in the film, but not showing it seems a directorial choice that, as best I can recall (it’s been a while since I’ve read McCarthy), fits with the novelist’s style.

A theme that was especially interesting to me (which is an easy inference if you read Random Post #4: A Tangent) was how Brolin’s character, Llewellyn Moss, was brought into the path of the ruthless Anton Chigurh (Bardem) merely by chance—at first. Stumbling onto a drug deal gone terribly wrong, Moss follows a trail that leads him to a case full of cash. Even after he takes the money, he might have gotten away free and clear, were it not for an attack of conscience. When he returns to the scene to help a dying man, Chigurh is able to determine Moss’ identity, at which point Moss’ fate is sealed, despite his resourcefulness. And here’s where the idea gets more fascinating and tragic: With Chigurh in pursuit, Moss’ choice to take the money and run affects the lives of many who cross his path purely by chance. This is something I am profoundly aware of in life.

On a general note, I loved the film. The performances are fantastic across the board; not a false note is struck by anyone. The writing is unexpected and doesn’t miss a beat; this is something at which the Coens excel, of course. The direction hits the right tone and keeps the viewer spellbound throughout the film, despite its nontraditional ending. See you on The Road! (Which is not directed by the Coens. It will be an interesting comparison though.)

~ by JT on December 6, 2007.