"No Country for Old Men" Walks a Tightrope

There is much hype surrounding the Coen Brothers' latest production, No Country for Old Men. The film has reached #21 on IMDB's top 250 list, a compilation topped by old classics like The Godfather and The Shawshank Redemption, edgier films like Pulp Fiction and One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and genre leaders such as Raiders of the Lost Ark and The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King.

The top 250 list at IMDB illustrates the kind of films that regular users deem worthy of standing out above all the other creative ambitions of film-making. They are the time tested leaders of style and innovation, cinematography, and originality. No Country for Old Men qualifies for all of these tags, potentially. The Coen Brothers walk a tight rope suspended above the border separating all those qualities from their dismal counter-parts: dullness, tunnel-vision, and repetition.

Josh Brolin (American Gangster) plays a Vietnam war vet who stumbles onto the gruesome aftermath of a drug deal gone bad. He absconds with the unclaimed $2 million (a lot of money back in the seventies), and finds himself hunted by a not-so-maniacal psycho-killer by the name of Anton Chigurh, played by Oscar nominee Javier Bardem (Before Night Falls). As the two men start their game of cat and mouse, Tommy Lee Jones hits the scene as Sheriff Bell, an almost elderly man, who just has to be on the edge of retirement, thinks about the old timers who didn't even carry guns in their law-enforcing days--and he just has to be on the edge of retirement.

The acting makes this film paradoxically quick in relation to it's seemingly slow pace. Brolin lets you know what he is thinking simply by squinting in a crab-wise direction for a few seconds. Jones brings a reputation that is outshone by his touched up accent and just about everything else that he does. If you fancy yourself a criminal psychologist, don't waste your time on the blood-swathing Chigurh. There is no eccentric lust for killing, and no post-traumatic rage that seems to drive him. He just kills people, because that's what he does, and because it's not what other people do. The deepest looks into Chigurh's character are mere glimpses. He shows a twinging distaste for cultural human interaction, with mocking phrases like, "Call it, Friend-O." Nevertheless, Bardem excels at giving you the willies just by being on the screen.

The Coen Brothers, assertive as they are, use the talent, and talented individuals at their disposal to pace the film with a prose rhythm. Brolin's character has a habit of speaking clear, simple phrases to himself like, "There's just no way," that just zap you into his head. Bardem's character, Chigurh, asks people off-topic and open ended questions, that are about discussions he partakes in, rather than related to them--another clue for what's about to happen next. That said, you pretty much already know what he's going to do--kill somebody.


The film threatens to drop you from the tight-rope, and onto either side of the border the entire way; when you might be dazzled by a shot, you might tend to focus too much on one gruesome prop, when it seems like a classic crime drama, the characters keep you baffled, and when you think you might be getting bored, you find yourself gripping your seat.

It is the rare production that exists entirely within itself. I am a bit behind the times with this review, because I left the theater confused, and with nothing at all to say about it. Some films leave you with answers, and others leave you with questions, but the Coen Brothers leave you with neither, asking yourself, "was that a good movie?"

Yes, the movie is that good, and if you consider your self cultured, or wish to be more so, then I suggest you see it.

Flickr Photo Credits: Dano for the tightrope photo, and Bradipo for the retirement photo