No Country for Old Men (2007)
Directed and written by Joel and Ethan Coen
Based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy
Every decade has its masterpieces that both contribute to our timely understanding of the era and serve as pieces of timeless reflection that force us to look into the future with a wider heart and a more open mind, in search of a truly meaningful life. Coen brothers’ 2007 western crime epic No Country for Old Men joins that shortlist of films that simultaneously capture the mood of the decade so brilliantly (even though it is set in 1980s Texas) and reflect upon themes as ancient as mankind itself. Adapting faithfully from Cormac McCarthy’s lament on the decaying American society, the Coens effortlessly add their unique vision and style (such as a series of deadpan humor as poignant as any headline news); the result is a hard-boiled yet thoroughly entertaining piece of meditation on the post-9/11 world we’re living in. The premise is as straightforward as any crime thriller can have nowadays; yet the Coens refuse to play by the rules. By subverting the archetypical narrative conventions they created a surprisingly original film. The multi-layered narrative structure is uniquely unorthodox, although under the craft of a master, coherent enough to appeal to the mainstream audience.
Story/Content:
The film mainly follows two characters as they struggle to deal with the violent consequences of overreaching greed (as epitomized by Javier Badem’s now legendary Anton Chigurh). Vietnam War veteran Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) stumbles upon two million dollars by chance, then decides with flee with his new found fortune, leaving his wife behind. Anton Chigurh, an unstoppable hitman (symbol of fate and God), is hired to recover the money. The narrator and moral center of the film Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) is on the case. What could have been a brainless western thriller is completely transformed into a moral study by the Coens with moments of profound brilliance.
Mood is set masterfully right from the beginning, with frames of open and empty Texas landscape reminiscent of the opening images of African mountains in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. The witty introduction of Anton Chigurh follows, giving the viewer a first taste of what the movie is about – fate and destiny- while foreshowing the ignorance of Lleyeln Moss thinking that he can get away with a bad decision. I won’t go into all the plot details either because you have to experience it anyway, or you already have seen it and know what I’m talking about. The most thrilling scene in this film (as suspenseful as the most memorable Hitchcock moments) takes place in a hotel, where Brolin’s Lleyeln Moss is hiding from Anton Chigurh. Of course, there are no real escapes once you’ve made a consequential decision, represented by the transponder concealed in the satchel that contains the two million dollars. Chigurh uses the signal emitted by the transponder and arrives at the hotel where Moss temporarily is at. What follows is one of the most heart-wrenching scenes in cinematic history, and this is all I’m going to say.
The brilliant decision by the Coens to use minimal music suitably conveys the emptiness and lack of purpose these characters feel day and day out. Rarely is there a film that makes no effort in manipulating the audience, at the same so deeply felt. We feel for these characters because they are like us, ordinary people living in this wide-open and increasingly interconnected world. We want Llewelyn Moss to succeed yet we constantly question his morality, his disregard for his wife, and his abrupt foolish greed. The complex characterization of Anton Chigurh is one of the best on-screen ever. Here he represents fate as if it is a punishment for our ignorance, amorality, and greed – whether you think you deserve it or not. Tommy Lee Jone’s Sherriff Bell is the moral center of the film, a seen-it-all albeit disillusioned character who is increasing sentimental about the “good old days” of the past that might never exist in the first place. He believes the world is more corrupted than ever before due to the opening up of borders. He is all too experienced to feel anything peculiar about this case other than that this gives him another excuse to lament on the changing world. His journey to understand this new society where more and more people and countries are increasing interconnected, is also his journey to understand the purpose of life – his moral values are summed up in the final frame.
Ending:
The ending confounded critics and audience alike ever since it was first released. What does it mean? Is it nihilistic or just plain pretentious? We can debate forever on the meaning of Sheriff’s monologue at the end, but since it’s meant to be open-ended so the interpretation largely depends on you, the viewer. However to me personally there is one thing about the anti-climactic ending that simply just elevates this film into a masterpiece. Make no mistake, 99% of the Hollywood thrillers don’t end this way. Rather than imitating our life experience, a typical action thriller usually ends with a final violent confrontation that looks more self-important to me than emotionally honest. The heroes most of the time win, although there are some notable exceptions. (Please do not count those horror franchises since the ending mean nothing other than to attract more ticket-buyers to the sequel: Saw, Friday the Thirteenth, etc.) Here, no one “wins”. It just doesn’t end that way. The low-key monologue/reflection by the moral center of the film serves quite simply and sorely as a reminder that we don’t come to this world to win, to defeat the “bad guys”. Instead we should always stick to our moral principles no matter what, live a worthwhile life, and be a positive member of this intertwined world. Also it completely degrades the way-to-common practice of the entertainment industry (movies and video games in particular) to glorify violence as if it is the best and only solution to solve a conflict. That’s why it is so refreshing and wonderful just to see violence being portrayed on screen just the way it is – brutal, graphic, unsettling – without being manipulated for entertainment; and as a legitimate resolution to NOTHING, really.
Craft:
The crafting of this film is just perfectly done. The editing is graceful, pacing is exhilarating, and dialogue is sharp and darkly funny, among many other aspects of filmmaking that are equally splendid. The gorgeous cinematography by Roger Deakins plays such an important part in this mainly visual-driven film devoid of music (expressive emotions): it captures the virtually nihilistic landscape with striking authenticity. Nevertheless, all those things don’t mean anything without the director and actors, who fill the screen with real human experience & emotions. Their collaborative effort to fill the empty Texas canvas in this film with heart is also a metaphor of each of us as human being trying to search for meanings in life (one that’s meaningless unless we search for its purpose).
Directed and written by Joel and Ethan Coen
Based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy
Every decade has its masterpieces that both contribute to our timely understanding of the era and serve as pieces of timeless reflection that force us to look into the future with a wider heart and a more open mind, in search of a truly meaningful life. Coen brothers’ 2007 western crime epic No Country for Old Men joins that shortlist of films that simultaneously capture the mood of the decade so brilliantly (even though it is set in 1980s Texas) and reflect upon themes as ancient as mankind itself. Adapting faithfully from Cormac McCarthy’s lament on the decaying American society, the Coens effortlessly add their unique vision and style (such as a series of deadpan humor as poignant as any headline news); the result is a hard-boiled yet thoroughly entertaining piece of meditation on the post-9/11 world we’re living in. The premise is as straightforward as any crime thriller can have nowadays; yet the Coens refuse to play by the rules. By subverting the archetypical narrative conventions they created a surprisingly original film. The multi-layered narrative structure is uniquely unorthodox, although under the craft of a master, coherent enough to appeal to the mainstream audience.
Story/Content:
The film mainly follows two characters as they struggle to deal with the violent consequences of overreaching greed (as epitomized by Javier Badem’s now legendary Anton Chigurh). Vietnam War veteran Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) stumbles upon two million dollars by chance, then decides with flee with his new found fortune, leaving his wife behind. Anton Chigurh, an unstoppable hitman (symbol of fate and God), is hired to recover the money. The narrator and moral center of the film Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) is on the case. What could have been a brainless western thriller is completely transformed into a moral study by the Coens with moments of profound brilliance.
Mood is set masterfully right from the beginning, with frames of open and empty Texas landscape reminiscent of the opening images of African mountains in Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey. The witty introduction of Anton Chigurh follows, giving the viewer a first taste of what the movie is about – fate and destiny- while foreshowing the ignorance of Lleyeln Moss thinking that he can get away with a bad decision. I won’t go into all the plot details either because you have to experience it anyway, or you already have seen it and know what I’m talking about. The most thrilling scene in this film (as suspenseful as the most memorable Hitchcock moments) takes place in a hotel, where Brolin’s Lleyeln Moss is hiding from Anton Chigurh. Of course, there are no real escapes once you’ve made a consequential decision, represented by the transponder concealed in the satchel that contains the two million dollars. Chigurh uses the signal emitted by the transponder and arrives at the hotel where Moss temporarily is at. What follows is one of the most heart-wrenching scenes in cinematic history, and this is all I’m going to say.
The brilliant decision by the Coens to use minimal music suitably conveys the emptiness and lack of purpose these characters feel day and day out. Rarely is there a film that makes no effort in manipulating the audience, at the same so deeply felt. We feel for these characters because they are like us, ordinary people living in this wide-open and increasingly interconnected world. We want Llewelyn Moss to succeed yet we constantly question his morality, his disregard for his wife, and his abrupt foolish greed. The complex characterization of Anton Chigurh is one of the best on-screen ever. Here he represents fate as if it is a punishment for our ignorance, amorality, and greed – whether you think you deserve it or not. Tommy Lee Jone’s Sherriff Bell is the moral center of the film, a seen-it-all albeit disillusioned character who is increasing sentimental about the “good old days” of the past that might never exist in the first place. He believes the world is more corrupted than ever before due to the opening up of borders. He is all too experienced to feel anything peculiar about this case other than that this gives him another excuse to lament on the changing world. His journey to understand this new society where more and more people and countries are increasing interconnected, is also his journey to understand the purpose of life – his moral values are summed up in the final frame.
Ending:
The ending confounded critics and audience alike ever since it was first released. What does it mean? Is it nihilistic or just plain pretentious? We can debate forever on the meaning of Sheriff’s monologue at the end, but since it’s meant to be open-ended so the interpretation largely depends on you, the viewer. However to me personally there is one thing about the anti-climactic ending that simply just elevates this film into a masterpiece. Make no mistake, 99% of the Hollywood thrillers don’t end this way. Rather than imitating our life experience, a typical action thriller usually ends with a final violent confrontation that looks more self-important to me than emotionally honest. The heroes most of the time win, although there are some notable exceptions. (Please do not count those horror franchises since the ending mean nothing other than to attract more ticket-buyers to the sequel: Saw, Friday the Thirteenth, etc.) Here, no one “wins”. It just doesn’t end that way. The low-key monologue/reflection by the moral center of the film serves quite simply and sorely as a reminder that we don’t come to this world to win, to defeat the “bad guys”. Instead we should always stick to our moral principles no matter what, live a worthwhile life, and be a positive member of this intertwined world. Also it completely degrades the way-to-common practice of the entertainment industry (movies and video games in particular) to glorify violence as if it is the best and only solution to solve a conflict. That’s why it is so refreshing and wonderful just to see violence being portrayed on screen just the way it is – brutal, graphic, unsettling – without being manipulated for entertainment; and as a legitimate resolution to NOTHING, really.
Craft:
The crafting of this film is just perfectly done. The editing is graceful, pacing is exhilarating, and dialogue is sharp and darkly funny, among many other aspects of filmmaking that are equally splendid. The gorgeous cinematography by Roger Deakins plays such an important part in this mainly visual-driven film devoid of music (expressive emotions): it captures the virtually nihilistic landscape with striking authenticity. Nevertheless, all those things don’t mean anything without the director and actors, who fill the screen with real human experience & emotions. Their collaborative effort to fill the empty Texas canvas in this film with heart is also a metaphor of each of us as human being trying to search for meanings in life (one that’s meaningless unless we search for its purpose).
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