No country for young men, either

Rating: 8/10 (8 December 2007)

At various moments in "No Country for Old Men," we are shown rusty, weather-beaten windmills squeaking in the dry desolation of the American Southwest, doing their 360-degree revelations in the passing wind. This imagery ties in nicely with the elliptical nature of the characters and plot (based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy), but also shows Joel and Ethan Coen coming full circle within their own career, as this film plays like a "desert noir" companion to their debut feature, "Blood Simple" (1985).
The brothers' requisite plot devicea large sum of money being stolen and sought afterfinds an Everyman foil in Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin), who happens upon a massacre site where a drug deal went awry, and makes off with a satchel of cash pried from a dead man's hands. His wife, Carla Jean (Kelly Macdonald) is skeptical, and it is not until Llewelyn commits an act of charity that he finds himself in a relentless chase to outrun the innumerable factions seeking the cash. As in McCarthy's novel, these factions are vaguely defined at best, save for Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), a seemingly indestructible boogeyman who possesses no loyalty, and only the faintest trace of humanity (some of his potential victims are absolved by the luck of a coin toss). Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (one of the "old men" of the title, played with depth and grace by Tommy Lee Jones) is the outsider intermediary, whose own jaded feelings toward the inexplicable senselessness of crime in America is magnified in the increasingly nihilistic pursuit between Chigurh and Moss.
"No Country" is like a symphony of aesthetics, with the Coens showing an affinity for wide-angle photography (captured by DP Roger Deakins) of the vast American Southwest; close-ups of faces of a variety of ages, weathered by age or fatigue or shrapnel; sound-effects editing so razor-precise that the squeaking of an oxygen valve or the clicking of a safety-catch in an otherwise silent scene is enough to inspire chills. Also worth noting is the absence of musical score, with Carter Burwell's orchestrations swelling only a few moments after the end credits have started to roll.
I find it refreshing that, in our era of cinematic spectacle, replete with CGI-candy, that "No Country" derives much of its impact from the characters themselves, often filmed in the aforementioned close-ups that makes their dialogues resonate with a profoundalmost meditativeurgency, conveyed wonderfully in the subtly understated performances. This is an interesting adaptive choice on the Coens' part, since many of their films take a parodic approach toward "country folk" as witless yokels designed as vessels for comedy. And while "No Country" finds some clever comic asides (Moss's exchange with a testy American border guard is a gem), the tone is that of pervasively ominous uncertaintythe tags of "hero" and "villain" are not easily applied, and the Coens are not above showing the moral ambiguity of their characters with a flatly objective eye.
And the performances are indicative of this flat objectivity. Talented character actor Josh Brolin ("The Goonies"; "Grindhouse") embodies the quirks, flaws, and traits (both heroic and anti-heroic) of Llewelyn; Bardem is a towering iceberg of intimidation, whose Chigurh becomes an almost-infallible extension of some mythic desert dweller (existing solely in a world of self-obligation and passive violence); Jones brings a worldly wisdom and depth to Ed Tom, the glue that bonds the narrative; English actress Macdonald (probably best known for "Trainspotting") slips into a Southern accent and conveys the necessary fearand finally, acceptanceof being an unwitting pawn in a situation beyond her control.
In the end, there is a paradoxical thematic synthesis as two characters "walk away" from obligation and into a future that is, at best, uncertain (the characters "unite" in a slow fade); and while Bell's closing recollection of a dream veers into Oscar-nod territory, it perfectly resolves "No Country for Old Men," a story so open-ended and incendiary that its grislier moments could easily be culled from today's national headlines. The movie may be set in 1980, but its parable-like presentation will prove timeless. One of 2007's best.