A tense, gripping and intelligent masterpiece

Rating: 10/10 (23 July 2008)

As the sun rises on the bare Texan landscape, the voice of Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) talks of times past and the troubled present as shadows cross the landscape. It is an elegy to human decency and morality, and the beginning of the Coen brothers' masterpiece, "No Country for Old Men".
Adapted from Cormac McCarthy's novel, the film follows Llewellyn Moss (Josh Brolin), who goes hunting in the Texan wilderness one day and discovers abandoned cars in a valley, with corpses rotting and wilting in the sun. It's a drug deal gone wrong, and Moss goes in search of the last man standing and the money he undoubtedly has. He finds him dead and aims to make a getaway with the money. Unbeknownst to him, the money is being tracked by the ruthless and brutal Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) who stops at nothing and for no-one on what he believes is a predestined course through life. As they tear across Texas near the Mexican border, leaving bodies and destruction in their wake, they are followed by the aging, weary and increasingly bewildered Sheriff who does not comprehend the evil Chigurh poses and begins to wonder whether humanity is going to hell in a handcart.
It is strong source material for the Coens, who started their careers on very similar territory with "Blood Simple". Their ability to construct intelligent thrillers is well established and with a strong foundation in the source material they excel. The script is clever, subtle and carefully constructed. At the centre are three characters who never quite share the screen, one of whom is the good man, principled and upstanding, whilst another is the evil man, confident in the idea that he has to do what is set out for him, and the third is caught in between the two, not a bad man, but not wholly good either. The three play out a gripping thriller, whilst the nature of man's morality is questioned.
The figure of good is common in the Coen's work ("Fargo"'s Marge is the prime example) and is normally the heart of the film. This could be said of Bell, but he is not the core of the film. That title belongs to Chigurh. The film opens with this quiet man killing a lawman and an unfortunate driver, the latter in a punchy and gory manner, the former in a sickening, sadistic way. From then on, every second Chigurh has on screen is menacing, a sense which is enhanced to the extreme by Javier Bardem's brilliant, subtle and electrifying performance. Dressed in dark clothing with the most unnerving haircut ever seen on screen, Chigurh becomes a "ghost", a force of evil and it is this that drives the film to the heights it reaches.
We have no special reason to feel for Moss. He does little to earn our sympathy, and yet we are driven to distraction for his wellbeing once Chigurh is on his tail. Whenever we do not see Chigurh we expect him to arrive. We gasp when he creeps into the back of the frame and we shiver when he's on screen. A scrunched up wrapper uncoiling becomes threatening in his presence and life and death hangs on a coin toss. The weight and clunk of his gas canister, the punch of his bolt gun and smack of his shotgun all contribute to our terror in what is a masterpiece of writing, performance and design.
But Chigurh is not all of the film. Josh Brolin's Moss is a fine character and another magnificent performance. He is a true everyman. He is a good man in many ways but vulnerable in others. His greed gets him into trouble, but his generosity digs him deeper into it. Brolin brings his character into sharp focus, as does Tommy Lee Jones. Bell's dry humour and wisdom are engaging, but his sense of ever increasing evil around him makes him more interesting. His sense of free will directly contrasts Chigurh's blinkered determinism and the two bring philosophical depth to the picture.
But, for all of the intelligence, this film would be nothing without its gripping and tense plot which is superbly executed by the Coens. Every element, every sound, every light, every note of music and every line, is used to maximum effect. Whereas in the infinitely comparable "Blood Simple" the directorial style filled the frame, here the film uses subtle touches (hats off to cinematographer Roger Deakins most of all for his superb work behind the camera). Everything in it is sparse which makes every sight and sound all the more powerful. Some scenes make you slow your breathing so you don't miss a thing and draw you to the edge of your seat. The film echoes itself and broadens its message. It takes the brutality and wrongdoing out of the western wilderness and into the shining cities. It shows the corrupted and the uncorrupted. It shows the end of innocence and after the fall. It is brilliantly balanced and brilliantly constructed. There is not a false step anywhere. There isn't a dud performance or a pointless moment. It is an astonishing neo-western thriller.
The ending of the film is pure poetry. It may be too abrupt for some, but think on it awhile. It adds mortality to this tale of morality and fate and it completes the films thoughts nicely. After the songs to human goodness in "Fargo" and, to a lesser extent, "The Big Lebowski" it is almost shocking that this film seems to say that humanity isn't going to hell but is already there. But that's not quite the whole story. In the middle of the savagery and inhumanity, there is still good with the bad. There is no shadow without the sun. It is the perfect ending to a film which is brilliant, gripping and absolutely satisfying. This is not just a must see. This is a masterwork.