Review: No Country for Old Men (2007) *****
“You can’t stop what’s comin’.”
Big money leads to big trouble. It turns innocent people bad and it makes bad people dangerous. In Joel and Ethan Coen’s new film No Country For Old Men, the $2 million that turns up in a quiet corner of southwest Texas brings with it a hell ordinary people are not equipped to comprehend. Bullets fly, blood flows and many people meet an ugly end. Those who survive are left only to question what it all portends.
There are many movies yet to be released in 2007, but I’ll be surprised if there is one that is better than this. It’s easily the best movie of the year so far and in the warm afterglow of seeing it, it’s tempting to call it the best Coen movie ever. Some have already been so bold, but to my mind it’s a little early for judgements like that.
It’s also tempting to draw easy comparisons between No Country for Old Men and the Coens’ earlier work. Though there are similarities, particularly to Blood Simple and Fargo, the familiar themes and ideas that have enriched their other films have here been taken to an unexpected level of maturity. This is like no other Coen movie you have seen before. Forget comparisons. Everything they’ve done in 25 years of filmmaking has been a prelude to this work of art.
A favorite sticking point among people who don’t like the Coen Brothers is the humor perceived as a smug condescension toward their characters. There is humor in No Country for Old Men to be sure, but any whiff of smugness has been slapped right off its face. It’s a splash of cold water. It’s startling. It’s invigorating. It’s their most perfect fusion of thriller and mood piece yet. It’s an art film with suspense to spare. It turns out the Coens have learned a thing or two about playing the audience over the years and their skills are on full display here. There is one sequence in particular involving two adjacent motel rooms that will leave you exhausted, fingers dug into the armrests.
“Baby, things happened. I can’t take ‘em back.”
One of my favorite segments is a chase through the desert at dawn. Early morning light is supposed to be a symbol of hope, but the Coens have turned the feeling on its head. It’s a nightmare. As a lone man runs for his life, fleeing from truck, from human and from dog, there is only terror. When he reaches safety and the sun has risen, he seems to understand that the chase has just begun and though he holds all the cards, the odds are against him. If his doom has not already been sealed, playing this hand could get him killed. Despite the danger, he has two million reasons to take his chances.
Suspense aside, the real heart of No Country for Old Men is a wistful and poetic screenplay adapted by the Coens themselves from Cormac McCarthy’s novel. How faithfully it was adapted I can’t say, but the screenplay stands on its own. It’s a thing of beauty that reads on the page almost as well as it plays on the screen. It’s rich with the sound of words and turns of phrase. Dialogue plays like music. The speech is common yet lyrical.
In bringing their wonderful screenplay to life, the Coens have assembled a terrific cast who stand out even in a year full of great performances. There is Josh Brolin as Llewelyn Moss, the stoic ex-soldier who first finds the money. He’s a decent and no-nonsense man, but he’s cursed with a dangerous stubbornness. Brolin somehow makes a man not prone to expressing himself seem likable.
Dressed down but still pretty as always, Kelly Macdonald is his sweet wife Carla Jean. She’s the innocent of the piece. Trading her natural Scottish brogue for a Texas Trailer Twang, she quickly charms you with only a small amount of screen time.
Rounding out the good guys, Tommy Lee Jones is sheriff Ed Tom Bell. He’s the wise but weary narrator and audience surrogate. Already worn down by a lifetime of seeing the worst side of people, he seeks to understand this new violence that is being visited upon his small town. Jones seems to feel this kind of character in his bones and he owns every scene with nothing more than a look and a word or two.
“That’s alright. I laugh myself sometimes. There ain’t a whole lot else you can do.”
Not every actor can inhabit a Coen character convincingly. It takes a way with words and a full commitment to the odd sort of stylization at which the Brothers excel. All three of these actors deliver marvelously, but as good as Brolin, Macdonald and Jones are, the most unforgettable performance and character is Javier Bardem as the enigmatic killer Anton Chigurh.
In the part of Texas the film is set, the horizon seems to go on forever and you feel as though you might be able to see danger coming from miles away. Though literal storm clouds gather early in the film, they offer only a hint of what Chigurh brings with him as he glides into town like some kind of implacable black ghost. You don’t see this character or this performance coming. Looking supernaturally pale in the Texas sun, Bardem is determined, unwavering and inevitable. There might be the faintest glimmer of pleasure in his eyes as he toys with his prey, but it is not friendly.
This is one of the most memorable screen villains in a long long time. He might not have the easy to remember catch phrases of a Hannibal Lecter, but he’s unforgettable, haunting your imagination for days afterward. One thing is certain: after Anton Chigurh, you’ll never look at the implied safety of a dead bolt in the same way again and the ominous hiss of a compressed air tank will give you shivers.
Even the Coen comedies have a strong current of melancholy to them, but No Country for Old Men is their most serious and sadly reflective. It’s steeped in a longing for a past gone by; of things lost and chances not taken. No punches are pulled and it borders on hopelessness. This is a mood that leads right up to the ending. I don’t want to say too much about it, but those expecting a conclusion that neatly fits the crime-thriller surface trappings of No Country are going to be disappointed. It’s a messy ending that reaches for poetry rather than closure. It leaves you thinking rather than soothing you with the idea that all is well in the world.
Unlike Fargo, we’re not even given so much as the comfort of a three-cent stamp, just the hope that maybe something better awaits at the ultimate end of the trail. In the mean time don’t struggle, the film seems to be saying. Submit to fate and take your chances. Your odds are at least 50/50. Or as Anton Chigurh says to one of his victims: “Call it.”
My expectations going into this movie were enormous, begging to be unmet and disappointed. In the end, they were easily exceeded and I wonder now how I could ever have thought otherwise. I got exactly what I wanted and somehow left the theater with more than I thought possible. Though I have ultimately treasured them all, I’ve never so unreservedly loved a Coen Brothers movie on first viewing as much as I did No Country for Old Men.
Is it the best Coen movie ever? Maybe. Ask me again later when the Texas dust has settled and the blood has had time to dry.
No Country for Old Men. USA 2007. Written and directed by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen. Based upon the novel by Cormac McCarthy. Cinematography by Roger Deakins. Edited by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen (as Roderick Jaynes). Music score composed by Carter Burwell. Starring Tommy Lee Jones, Javier Bardem, Josh Brolin, Woody Harrelson and Kelly Macdonald. 2 hours 2 minutes. Rated R for strong graphic violence and some language. 5 stars (out of 5)
Filed under: Reviews
Wonderful review Craig. I love how the feelings the film evoked for you suffuse your writing. You seem perfectly attuned to what it had to offer. I think the dialog is an important element in the story’s success, as both script and book, so I particularly admired this passage:
“It’s a thing of beauty that reads on the page almost as well as it plays on the screen. It’s rich with the sound of words and turns of phrase. Dialogue plays like music. The speech is common yet lyrical.”
I also admired how you convincingly placed the film in the context of the Coen brother’s canon of work.
Your favorite film of the year only gets 4.5 out of 5? What does it take to get a 5 star review?
“…he seems to understand that the chase has just begun and though he holds all the cards, the odds are against him. If his doom has not already been decided, playing this hand could get him killed. Despite the danger, he has two million reasons to take his chances.”
Have you ever written voice-over for a film noir? You ought to. Just try reading the above in a Bogie voice.
Great review of a great movie, Craig. So you think it’s better than TWBB? I need to see both movies again before I commit to an opinion.
Now I really must know: “WHAT DOES BASTARD IN THE BASKET” MEAN?!! It’s driving me craaaaaazy!!!
Since we’re pulling quotes from Craig’s review, I’ll jump on the bandwagon — because it’s deserved:
“A favorite sticking point among people who don’t like the Coen brothers is the humor they perceive as a smug condescension towards their characters.”
For those who have reservations about the Coens’ films, I’m glad to see the above point addressed head-on (and early on).
“Unlike Fargo, we’re not even given so much as the comfort of a three-cent stamp. . . .”
Those words say so much, so economically.
Really great review, Craig. The opening is particularly strong — sometimes when I read your stuff, I get the sense of a perfectly balanced geometric figure.
Wow you guys fucking rule. Imagine nervously posting a review about your heroes, leaving for 6 hours, then returning to see such kind words from people whose opinion you treasure. That’s awesome. You guys make doing this a fuckuva lotta fun.
The thing about the stars: In order to qualify as a full on 5-star movie, it has to be a certified classic. I don’t believe in the contradictory terms ‘instant classic’. A classic takes time. It takes contemplation. It has to live and breathe before it can assume the throne of all-time great. No review of a current movie will ever have more than 4.5 stars. In time, when I watch it again, it could get that extra half.
As for dialogue….it is hands down my favorite aspect of the Coen oeuvre. Listening to it and reading it makes me smile. I shit you not, these boys are literature on the screen.
Frank. I aspire to being hard boiled some day. It’s my favorite style. Bogie rules.
****SPOILER**** near the end of TWBB when HW announced he was going to South America or wherever, didn’t DDL start yelling at him that he was just a bastard in a basket over and over??? Or was that just when the mushrooms started kicking in for me…. (Kidding) *****END SPOILER****
I’m glad you agree about the condescenion PIerre. People who don’t get it….well they just don’t get it. Later on down the road when more people have seen it, I’d like to address this bullshit notion that the Coens are misanthropes. I’m dying for someone to explain to me how anyone who could write the end of Raising Arizona or Fargo (to name just TWO) could accuse them of hating humanity. That’s just absurd and lazy…but the subject of another post.
Also, the verdict is still out for me on TWBB until I write a real review which there’s no way in hell I’m going to do until I see it again. It could supplant No Country. It will be hard though as the Coens are a sentimental favorite and I’m still watching their homerun ball fly out of the fucking park. Which was awesome I must say. Still, as I’ve said before TWBB was surely something else.
Thanks again guys. You made my night.
Many years ago, when we were young and stupid, a friend and I attempted a parody of hard-boiled fiction. I can only recall the opening lines: “It was a dirty night in a dirty city. But what the hell…I’m a dirty person.” It’s probably for the best that the rest has been lost.
SPOILER
Ohhhhhh, now it’s coming back. But it I think the offending word was orphan, not bastard. “You were an orphan, I found you in a basket.” (Assuming the first guy to be killed was the kid’s father, “bastard” wouldn’t really make sense.) I think he even stammers over it at first: “You were an or-orphan,” as if he can’t bring himself to say it. Because by this point, H.W. really has become his son — which lends more weight to the theory that his remark about only needing the boy for cheap sympathy was not the whole truth. (As wrenching as this scene was, I think it was eclipsed for me by what followed, which may explain my confusion. Though it’s probably the gas.)
By the way, I’ve seen very little mention of this kid’s performance. Maybe it’s because he’s so natural most viewers don’t think of it as acting. Whether the credit goes to young Dillon Freasier or P.T. Anderson, it’s an amazing job.
Getting back on topic, I liked a comment you left Elsewhere about No Country: “There is a spiritual ennui that isn’t going to be defeated by a big gun battle where the good guys persevere.” That really sums up why the conclusion work, even if it doesn’t satisfy what we expect as a genre requirement.
The Jim Thompson’s of the world make writing hard boiled look easy. I guess that’s why they’re famous and the rest of us toil away anonymously.
As soon as you expressed confusion over Bastard in a Basket I backed off as possibly having misremembered it. The whole business with Eli grabbed my attention away and it’s what has really lingered in my mind. The only reason there’s a glimmer of the other is someone made a joke about it after the screening. Perhaps a third party would care to confirm or deny my memory???
That little kid was pretty spectacular. So amazingly natural for a little kid. If I heard PTA correctly during the Q&A, he was just a local kid from the area in texas they were filming. Don’t quote me on that…could be another bastard in a basket type moment.
***SPOILERS*****
Regarding the comment Elsewhere…is that the same one Scooterzzz (or was it Craptastic?) got snippy with me because I indirectly accused him of just being annoyed he didn’t get a money shot? I felt bad about that, but that’s essentially why people don’t like the ending in my opinion. They want satisfaction and to be let off the hook.
To me that’s what elevates No Country slightly above Fargo. Fargo sort of pulled its punches in the end. Just a teeny bit. Allowing you a good feeling with Marge and Norm. There was an edge, but not as sharp as No Country.
And don’t get me started on Mgmax complaining about the different Coen endings….especially Lebowski….sheez!…
The kid was exceptionally good, as were all the supporting actors. I just think that it doesn’t pay to stand too close to the sun if you’re wanting to get noticed.
I don’t recall the exact line – but I’m leaning towards “orphan”.
****SPOILERS*****
Don’t forget too what followed Plainview’s cruel severance of his relationship with his son towards the end – in his drunken and spiritual wretchedness he stumbles down some stairs and we briefly witness a flashback to an everday moment of mutual affection with his young son and the Sunday girl.
Damnit. Bastard in a basket has such a nice ring to it.
Oh well.
P.T. lacks your poetry :-)
I’m going to respond to that sentence with my new policy of self effacement avoidance and just smile and wave.
Look on the bright side — the title Bastard in a Basket is all yours.
Now get busy writing.
But wait! The plot thickens. Dorothy Vallens has just informed me that she distinctly remembers Plainview repeating “bastard in a basket, bastard in a basket” in a mocking tone, as H.W. and his interpreter are leaving.
It’s very possible that after the film opens, Sartre and I will be wiping the egg off our faces and eating it with a side of crow as we flagellate ourselves– assuming we can pull our feet out of our mouths.
Ernhhhh, too much There Will Be Blood here for my liking, must scan through comments.
Anyway, I saw NCFOM tonight and obviously it was great. Mostly it’s just nice to see a real, full-blooded Coen Bros. movie again, which there really hasn’t been since The Man Who Wasn’t There, I would say. Welcome back, boys.
What I would be interested in is more discussion about the movie’s oddities: why it is (SPOILERS) that Llewelyn’s death is handled so offhand. He goes from being our guy, the center of the movie, in one scene and mere seconds later he’s a corpse on the floor, clearly for a reason. Obviously he’s chosen his fate, but the significance of the girl by the swimming pool seems important.
For that matter, the whole end sequence is so perversely odd that I would love to talk about it, the ballsiness of killing a very likeable main character (Macdonald) and ending the movie on a cryptic dream monologue is the kind of thing you only do if the filmmakers are absolutely convinced it’s the right thing to do, and yet it’s also the best way to keep your movie from being beloved by a mass audience and maybe tilt the balance come Oscar time. So I guess what I’m saying is: what do y’all think the ending of the movie really signifies?
Don’t worry Jeff, I think the TWBB bits were all clearly marked out with spoiler warnings.
I would like to say I had NCfOM pegged from first viewing, but I’ve seen it twice now and am not prepared to say I’ve cracked it. I do know it feels right….like you it’s nice to see them in full bloom for the first time since The Man Who Wasn’t There….but I can’t say I know what it all adds up to.
I think there’s a degree of sticking to the novel (which I haven’t read, but have heard) and I think there’s also a willful disregard to playing into the hands of what people expect from an audience.
****SPOILERS*****
Letting the audience off the hook by giving them what they expect…the money shot plus the good guy riding off into the sunset would sap the movie of its power. It wants to leave you thinking, not satisfied.
Frank. I’m totally convinced that I’m wrong about TWBB. If I’m right….well, we’ll just see. I do love being right….but yeah, we’ll see.
Loved the writing. Excited about seeing the movie, but more excited about the accolades you received for the review. Well deserved I must say. We both agree the Cohen Brother’s dialogue is where they shine. I loved the reference to music. Can’t wait to hear it for myself.
Don’t stop writing, you just get better and better.
***SPOILERS*****
About the dead woman in the swimming pool (NCfOM), my take is that 1) this was the initial tip-off that Llewellyn was dead, 2) his death — that is, his fate — was a direct result of his greed, or lustful impulse, even when he knew that danger was one step behind him, and 3) the woman suffered a similar fate because of her having yielded to her animal impulses (I mean my god, she was in heat like an animal. . . .). I don’t believe the Coens were being moralistic or religious about this — they seemed to be documenting a simple basic fact of life, cynical though it is. By not giving Llewellyn more “death screen time,” the Coens placed more emphasis on the reasons — both overall and specific — behind his demise.
***END SPOILERS****
Regarding the Coens so-called condescension toward their characters, my brother (who lives near in Wisconsin near Minnesota), says a lot of people adamantly refuse to see Fargo because of that very condescension — they apparently feel it’s insulting. To me, of course, that’s a superficial response. For example, in Fargo, before William H. Macy’s wife is accosted and kidnapped in their home, a certain kind of condescension toward her character comes through. But when the killers actually break in through the glass door, that condescension quickly evaporates as we see the woman quickly realize — right down to the bones in her body — that this is the real deal and her very existence is in immediate danger. Of course, it’s true that when we later see her with a bag over her head, the condescension returns. But that point of view coincides with that of the kidnappers. Through this, we see the Coens’ suggestion that there are people in this world who view other people with such condescension.
In NCfOM, the condescension does not really exist. When Anton approaches the store owner in the coin-toss scene, we see the guy who exists in a very provincial setting. But because the Coens don’t look down on that, we see him as a 100% human, a guy we learn a lot about in those few minutes — and one we empathize with. The same holds true for the receptionist at Llewellyn’s mobile home park. She may be an overweight trailer-park biddy — but we (or at least I) don’t feel the condescension. It’s almost like the two have become one — the condescension and empathy that the Coens have injected into some of their characterizations have joined forces and have become an integral whole. In a broader perspective, this factor reflects the evolution of the Coens as filmmakers — a maturity that elevates NCfOM and their new level of achievement.
**SPOILERS**
I’m still struggling a little with the Coen Brothers adaptation of the ending. It was just as unexpected in the book. We only learn of Moss’ sudden death secondhand. It seemed to me that McCarthy deliberately wrote the bulk of the story in cinematic terms – like a screenplay/treatment within the suspense/thriller genre. I think he did this in part to cue within the reader our easy capacity to experience a tale of high stakes risk-taking and violence as visceral entertainment.
In part, the ending seeks to be a bracing plunge into the reality of how choices motivated by greed and misplaced cockiness place us, love ones, and others at risk of terrible consequences. It’s a credit to the story and the power of genre expectations that we struggle until the end to see Moss as anything more than a very sympathetic regular guy who loves his wife, doesn’t seek to harm anyone, and has the self assurance to think he can get away with keeping drug money that he “stumbles” upon. And to various degrees those things are true. But the sober, non-romanticized reality is that he actively (criminally) sought out the money because of greed. He knows he’s placing himself and his wife at great risk, and for what? Is any amount of money and adventure that tests our mettle worth what they stood to lose? In life there is nothing entertaining about violence or sympathetic about bad choices on this scale.
This was only one broad ambition of the book’s ending. But I’m not even sure that the film strongly articulates it. In fact, the Coen’s choice to leave the wife’s fate a little ambiguous (though the cues of her demise are subtly present) dilutes the message. This choice also counters any prospects of the viewer gaining clear access to what the book has to say about free will and fate. Something that was made all the more challenging by the decision to include only part of a conversation between the wife and Chigurh that crucially helped the reader to more fully grasp ideas represented by his philosophy and behavior. We only get the tiniest fraction of important conversation between Moss and the character represented in the film as the girl by the pool. We get nothing of the Sheriff’s back story that helps us understand why the events and their conclusion weigh so profoundly upon him – evoking an existential crisis.
Of course the film couldn’t practicable present all of this depth. And a film also has the right to be something very different from its source material. But rather than focusing on articulating at least one of the many messages in the ending with clarity the Coen’s give us bits and pieces that add up to nothing for sure. As such they make a confident interpretation of their message(s) elusive. We’re presented a Rorschach test. Hence viewers unfamiliar with the book, including those commenting here who are in possession of the exceptional analytical skills, are generating every manner of possible interpretation. Maybe the Coen’s intended this outcome. But I personally find it less satisfying than having at least one important message from the book clearly accessible – even if it still demands thoughtfulness and multiple viewings on the part of the moviegoer.
Pierre, I love your thoughts about the issue of condescension towards character in Coen brother’s films. I think besides those hyper-sensitive to the potential feelings of others, viewers have a strong eye for and acceptance of satire. Particularly of a kind that takes small opportunities – like the ones you’ve so astutely referenced – to humanize some of their caricatures. I’d also add that one doesn’t need to look far to find larger than life and comically eccentric individuals around us. It’s just that in the Coen universes they’re more ubiquitous.
“…she was in heat like an animal.”
That’s a little too Bob Mitchum in Night of the Hunter for me, Pierre.
I can back you up on the Scandowegians’ issues with Fargo, though. Plenty of good Minnesotans absolutely hate the film. If you’ve ever seen an unflattering photo of yourself or heard your voice on tape and said “that’s not me!”, you know why. And it pisses them off all the more that the brothers grew up there, which gives their depiction of the region a certain authority. (They’re going back there for their next film, too.)
Getting back to a previous topic:
Craig and Sarte, take a look what I found:
http://www.yelp.com/user_details?userid=rNSLAabLrphlT8_zLIakhw
Undoubtedly someone who was at The Castro that night. Know any good recipies for shoe, Sartre?
frankbooth and sartre prostrated themselves before the all knowing Craig’s feet and declared in unison ‘we’re not worthy, we’re not worthy’.
DAMN craig. reviews like this is could make your blog as others home page.
well written…..and now I can’t wait for this movie.(got a list of unseen good movies)
If anyone was going to be offended by the characterizations in a Coen Brothers movie, I would assume it would be Raising Arizona and not Fargo, but because Fargo recevied far more attention and accolades than Raising Arizona, I guess more people have found reason to be offended. That’s a shame, because like nearly all their films, the comedy is there but at the heart of the story are wonderful protagonists who exemplify the salt of the earth kind of folks that I think most Midwesterners would dearly hope they could be compared to. I hate to think anyone could find Marge or Norm Gunderson offensive…to do so would completely and utterly miss the point.
(and I only point out Raising Arizona, my favorite film of theirs, simply because much of it is so ridiculously Tex Avery in style and content that it could be quite easy to see nothing but smug condenscension when there is in fact loving respect for H.I. and Ed)
If I were to find any of their films somewhat condescending and smug, it would probably Intolerable Cruelty, where none of the characters aren’t entirely without fault and all are amoral on some level. And since there’s no evidence they were entirely responsible for that project (at least not to the extent of their other films), one can’t really hold it against them. Oh, and Intolerable Cruelty is about rich, upper class snobs, so it’s not exactly a knock against the common folk.
Anyway, I don’t think I’m defending them from anyone here, just reacting to some of the BS I’ve seen elsewhere from less thoughtful yet more authorative critics than myself.
I do find it a little ironic (or possibly just curious) that frankbooth is commenting on this movie, since Javier Bardem’s performance in NCFOM is frightenly reminiscent of Dennis Hopper’s absolutely terrifying performance in Blue Velvet. “Fuck Heineken…PABST BLUE RIBBON!” What was scarier…the look in Bardem’s eyes when he was punching someone’s clock or the tone of his voice when he was deciding some poor innocent’s fate in mid-conversation? Chilling doesn’t begin to describe it.
Hey, man that Chigurh’s got nothin’ on Frank! YOU HEAR ME, FUCK?
(I feel like such a trained seal sometimes. I just knew I should have gone with Maria Von Trapp when I chose my user name.)
Actually, though, aside from being indelibly terrifying, the two characters are not that much alike. Frank is all raging id, while Chigurh is cold and deliberate in a way that reminds me more of Michael Myers (with his pasty, impassive face) or the original terminator. If Frank is a pit bull, Anton is a crocodile.
But Chigurh is definitely in the pantheon now. Villain of the decade so far, and unlikely to be dethroned in the next two years.
I had a big response all written here and then I accidentally closed the window. Sometimes I hate web browsers. I’ll try to redo it.
I agree that Frank and Chigurh aren’t really all that alike, just equally memorable and frightening. I like the analogy of Chigurh to a crocodile, but I prefer to think of him as an old cat playing with its prey pretty much anytime he encounters anyone in the film: he’s got lots of patience until he gets annoyed, he’s made up his mind how this will end long before it’s obvious, and he’s more concerned with staying clean than he is with the outcome.
I like to think of him as Bengal tiger. By the time you see him coming, it’s already too late.
I was struck by how Un-Coen this movie was. Other than the scene between Harrelson and Root in the office or Jones and Dillahunt reviewing the first crime scene, very little of this movie reminded me of the Coen brothers (in style) and yet they’ve peppered the movie with references to their own work throughout. And one can’t miss the neverending string of black humor that runs throughout the movie, a hallmark of many Coen Brothers movies. I agree with Craig’s excellent review that this film owes a lot to their early work (and to some extent, Fargo). The opening montage and VO is a direct reference to the wonderful opening of Blood Simple and when Llewelyn wakes up in bed and makes a faithful decision, it’s a direct reference to H.I. in Raising Arizona. There’s also Chigurh taking a page from Smalls with the bird on the bridge.
It’s hard on the little things in this world. Even if the little things include us.
****SPOILERS******
As I saw noted elsewhere (by someone smarter than me), it’s interesting that Llewelyn’s two acts of genuine morality (going back with the water and choosing not to drink the beers in the woman’s hotel room) both ultimately become his two biggest mistakes in the story. If he had chosen different in either situation, he may have escaped, so it’s curious that his moral choices are his undoing. I know it’s been said that No Country is something of a morality tale but I think it has far more to do with the unpredictablity and uncertainty of life. Hell, Chigurh definitely discovers that after spending so much time allowing chance to determine fate: even he isn’t immune to a twist of fate and bad timing in the end. Fate even gave him the green light. Literally.
Frank, me and one San Francisco diner do not a compelling argument make. (wtf, am I Yoda now all the sudden??) I’m already dying to see TWBB again, but even more so now just because…in the words of one of the punks in Dirty Harry: “I gots to know!”
I don’t even know where to begin with the rest of the great comments on No Country. I’ve been mulling this thing over for more than a week and I haven’t been able to add it all up. I do know the movie blew me away, like a cattle gun to the forehead.
As for character condescension, Fargo probably rubs people the wrong way the most because they’re the most regionally specific. Raising Arizona, they’re hicks but not necessarily attributable to the southwest…at least to my mind. There’s no specific group that can be offended. Intolerable Cruelty definitely skewers rich hollywood types, but they can afford plenty of therapy to get over it.
Pierre’s comment about the wife in Fargo looking foolish but mainly through the eyes of the criminals is right on. He’s also right about the counterpoint it provides when she realizes the shit is serious. You feel bad for her.
And try to convince me that their sympathies, respect and affection don’t lie with Marge and Norm. You can’t. They’re big on taking their characters and putting them through hell only to have them come through it, changed a little sometimes for the better and sometimes not. Marge has tasted the evil in the world outside the comfort of her life and she comes back from the experience saddened and yet renewed in the love of her husband and pending motherhood.
That’s your beautiful, non-misanthropic ending right there and you won’t find many better.
No Country is a tougher pill to swallow. There’s a resignation to it. It doesn’t offer much to be hopeful about. But I’m getting ahead of myself….I want to reread some of your comments to make sure I’m not repeating things and then I’ll come back with more.
Wow. I’m late to the party here, and I don’t think I can say anything that hasn’t already been said (especially since I haven’t seen the film in question yet) but this is a very good review Craig.
well i just returned from a screening and i’m exhausted.exhasting film.and those bus rides are brutual…so translation maybe more tomorrow..
*****SPOILERS*******
anyway on trhe water thing what was Llewelyn hoping to accomplish going back with the water ???
just to make it harder on himself. did he have some desire to see how worse things could get?? push his ‘luck’ as much as possible ???
and that guy in the truck ??even if Llewelyn got there and he was still alive. (how much time had passed bewteen
his leaving the drug deal gone bad area.and his returning ???when he retuns it’s night/early a.m. hours??)
he was going to need alot more than water.that guy didn’t seem long for this world when Llewelyn found him.really how helpful was hot water(did we see him even put it in a cooler??) gonna do…..???
did he bring anything medical with him ??? was he going to drive him to hospital ???
yeah going back very stupid. even more stupid to give that guy some water.
even much more stupid.since when he left the drugs were stil in the back of whomever’s truck.
and when he came back the drugs were gone right ??
but come he should have known that someone would have had the area on watch.
after the shoot out whatever. it seems no truck/car could function be used as a method of get away.
hence forth way the drugs were still ther when Llewelyn got to seen but the money wasn’t at the scene ???
you had to know someone had to be thinking.maybe someone going to come back for the drugs.eventually let’s wait….
oh well i realize you you have to let each movie have a ‘gimme’ or two.
do wonder if they could have track him. even if he hadn’t have come back.(and his truck info didn’t lead to him) via whatever tracking type device whomever had put in the bundles of money ???
all i t take would be someone to have seen him leaving the scene and giving info.not knowing the danger they’d be putting Llewelyn in but whatever..
anyway more on the film later.but more and more i know i’m too much of a wimp for this guy genre stuff.(sorry i don’t really care) yes the acting was great.and i guess i respect it. but did i love it. no.
am i going to root for it come oscar time. no.
do i want to own the dvd. no……
do i want to see it again.no…
where the losers/wimps at ????
come on, enough crime stuff. how about something different. or is even wanting that/too indie ???
where the losers at ????
also another in the ‘gimme’ department ????
***MORE SPOILERS*****
how did whomever capture anton?? you know when the film started.the police guy was on the phone describing things.the devicethat looked like needed for oygen etc.
ok when thy/he ?? captured anton did he not put up a fight ??
was he captured by just one guy ??
considering how dangerous beyond resourceful we discover anton to be as the film progresses. why would one cop be phone with his back turned.with anton a few feet behind him ??? did i miss something???
was anton in the just in the same room in handcuffs. or did he break out of cell or something ??? did i miss something.
ok cutting the comp off for today.back to tomorrow…
Glimmer, I spent some time after walking out of the movie and noted numerous contrivances in the plot that I can only assume McCarthy explains in his novel. It donned on me you could easily pick this movie apart because the plot has numerous holes (or at least many unexplained coincidences).
But then it donned on me that as I watched the movie, none of that mattered to me. I enjoyed it far too much for what it was to be caught up in the myriad plot details. I’m sorry you weren’t able to see past that but as far as I’m concerned, none of that mattered to me. The acting, the dialogue, the cinematography, the editing all far surpassed any weaknesses in the plotting.
As for it being a simple crime story, I thought there was honestly way more going on than that.
Oh well, you win some, you lose some…
******SPOILER*****
“That’s a little too Bob Mitchum in Night of the Hunter for me, Pierre.”
I guess to each his own, Frank. Although now I’m confused. My take is that swimming pool lady died because she was with Llewellyn (either during or before sex). He got away temporarily but later died in the parking lot.
Was I smoking too much dope or something?
***SPOILERS******
The only really implausible plot turn in the novel was Llewelyn returning with the water. For the very kinds of reasons identified here by Glimmer. Everything else was either plausible or acceptable in terms of their contribution to its themes. The film version does have more holes in it but like Joel I wasn’t distracted by them given the film’s many wonderful qualities.
It’s unclear to me what the Coen’s intended by slipping in a brief scene between Llewelyn and the poolside girl. But as for what the book did between him and the equivalent character, you’re well and truly off-course Don. In fact you’re not even in the same country :-)
Well then I guess that since I didn’t read the book I’m not as crazy as I thought. Apparently, then, my interpretation is viable. The Coens wouldn’t throw in a scene for no reason.
****SPOILERS****
As far as Llewellyn returning to the crime scene with water, that’s plausible enough for me. He knew he was taking a risk, but his altruism trumped his better judgment. It’s easier to forgive (even admire) a character who “does the right thing” even if it’s not the smart thing.
My take on that is that it was quietly eating away at him in the back of his mind and (to borrow a reference to the scene from Raising Arizona referenced in the movie), he probably awoke from a bad guilt-ridden dream and returns with the water, knowing it’s probably a waste of time, but to do whatever he can. Clearly Llewellyn isn’t a doctor nor is he unaware of the certain-death the mexican’s gun shot wound would bring, but I think he felt he had to do something.
And that was just not a good idea.
To me, it was one of those moments in a Coen Brothers movie where a character makes a very fateful decision based more on their emotions than rational thought and it ends up being the crux of the story. See Blood Simple, Raising Arizona, Millers Crossing, Fargo, etc for what I’m talking about here.
If Llewellyn DIDN’T go back, I don’t think they would have made the movie. He’s just that kind of guy…tempted by opportunity, ruled by morality, undone by both.
I can’t say you’re wrong Glimmer my friend, but none of the issues you raised concerned me in the slightest. Those are the kinds of questions I ask when I movie is boring the shit out of me, and No Country most certainly held my attention from beginning to end.
Sorry the movie didn’t work for you though. I guess they can’t all be winners, right?
****SPOILERS******
As for the girl in the pool…I have no opinion. I hadn’t given her much though until now. Is the question did Llewelyn fool around with her or did he not and did it lead to his demise or did it not?
My focus for the last 24 hours has been on Carla Jean and her final showdown with Chigurh. Her rejection of Chigurh’s game is the lone bright spot in the movie. She’s saying “I’m not going to play. My life is worth more than a 50/50 coin flip. You can kill me if you’re going to kill me, but I’m better than that.” Of course it ends badly for her, but she at least retains her dignity and humanity. The question that was brought up by wiser folks than me in another forum: did this act of defiance actually throw Chigurh for a loop leading up to his car accident? Are we to believe he’s broken and on the run? Or is the accident meant to show his invulnerability?
****SPOILERS******
For me, Chigurh’s depiction throughout the film is inconsistent with any capacity for being thrown for a loop. I find that a real stretch. And besides, the vehicle that hit him ran a red light – so he wasn’t betraying any loss of composure in response to her defiance.
My take on the car accident was that it worked as a literal example of one not knowing what’s coming towards them. It also underscored that Chigurh was as prone to fate/choices as his victims – placing him in that exact spot at the exact time a car ran a red light. Lastly, it offered a context for him to provide the second clue to her demise – he pays the kids to keep quiet about his presence -> doesn’t want to be placed there -> because he did something incriminating in the vicinity -> letting her live is not incriminating.
*****SPOILER******
Yeah I like your way of thinking on that score. I think some people are trying too hard to make it a happy ending, like good triumphing over evil in a small way, but I think that’s a simplistic way to view it.
Also, it doesn’t jibe with the melancholy tone struck by Tommy Lee Jones at the end.
Still, I do view Carla Jean’s defiance as something of a small victory. She lost her life, but not her humanity.
Yep, you can face the unwelcome outcomes of fate or choices in a way that preserves personal dignity.
EDITOR’S NOTE: My thinking on spoilers is that I try to avoid them in my reviews, but if you’re worried about them, you should steer clear of the comments section. Most people have been really good about providing warnings, but in the heat of the moment, it’s easy to forget.
Reading back over the comments so far, several important plot points slipped through unannounced. I prefer a ‘reader beware’ approach to the comments, but since we’re dealing with the movie of the year here (in my opinion), I’d rather err on the side of caution. Therefore I’ve retroactively and liberally sprinkled spoiler warnings throughout many people’s comments, just to be safe.
Otherwise, no comments were altered in any way and I probably won’t do this again very often, if at all.
Thanks Craig, although if I wanted to avoid spoilers I wouldn’t read the comments section of any posting since well, I’d expect spoilers. But then I wouldn’t have read the review either. Sorry if I blew it for anyone.
What did annoy me was that the comments section for this movie diverted into a mini-discussion of There Will Be Blood, which was kind of annoying cause I didn’t want THAT movie to be spoiled for me. So I skipped a lot of the early comments because you kids were jumping back and forth between the two.
Bad comment etiquette or just the danger of web comments/talkbacks? I don’t know.
Most of the TWBB discussion was clearly tagged already, but there was one spot that wasn’t. It is now.
To me the comments section is like the Wild Wild West and you get what you get, though in the future I’ll try to be more aware of off topic spoilers.
Thanks for the timely reminders Craig and Joel. We’re all try much harder to behave.
joel…not to sound…but why would Llewellyn feel gulity about the dyeing guy asking for water ???
did he shoot they guy ??? did he do anything to get him in the sitution ?? did he double cross guy ???? did the guy take a bulet that was meant for him etc???
so i can see him feeling bad for the guy. but not feeling guilty…
i also don’t thik Llewellyn was greedy.nah whatever started thew massacre at the drug dine gone wrong,that was greed.
anton shooting the two guys that he went with to the drug deal gone bad scene and shooting him after he got the tracking device. hmm i’d say that was greed too.9and some other stuff)
but l. finding the money.and wanting to keep it.not as much greed…..and i suspect that if the money was ‘clean’ L. to the rightful owner…
i wonder ‘why’ anton wanted the money ??? well you know what i mean/it’s hard to imagine him doing anything besides killing people…..
oh wait when he’s not killing people he’s driving to kill a few more people……
funny blue velet got mentioned….
although i don’t believe it.i was wonder was there a leleand/bob thing happening ala twin peaks….
do you see anton and ed tom together ?? once ???
whay did ed tom has such ‘respect’ for anton ??? did he babaled some speech about how in some weird way anton had principles.a moral code whatever.(something like that) ?????
why did anton thing effect him so ????
did anton represent what he could have become if he hadn’t went to cop/good route ?????
and very weird??? why is it after we know L. lost the war/is dead and ed tom goes back to crime/death scece.tears the don’t enter police yellow tape and goes in the hotel….
anyway beside me thing when he first entered the room.the way the shadow looked it looked like some was hanging??but then ed tom moves and it seem it was just his shadow..
wait…*backtrack* before entering the hotel. ed keeps looking the were the dead bolt.on on the door was.
and the way it step up.what with the refelection ?? you begin to think anton was in the hotel ???and yep you got a second or two shot of anton in the darkness hiding with his gun ?????
but if anton was in the hotel why didn’t he shoot ed tom ?? it’s not he had a problem shooting everyone else.
and he would have even had a perfect chance when ed tom put his weapon away.and sat on the bed???
was the shoot of anton supposed to represent when anton was hiding and got the drop/shot L. ???
but L.’s body was shown pretty much in front of door/when we saw hin dead/covered in blood.
if anton had already broke in the room.again the dead bolt id broken via his trademark..
L. wouldn’t have went in the room.
and the it looks like l. was shot in chest. while being a few feel directly behind the door ??? huh ????
poolside girl. when i first say her i was thinking someone using her to get to L.. you know get him to drop his guard.while he’s thinking he’s going to ‘get wet’ and then kill him.
oh guess that didn’t happen.maybe poolside girl died because.because maybe she didn’t get L.
but when anton came she tried to hit on him.and said something he didn’t like and he gave her the famous ‘you call it’ line and she lost…. ????
and i really hope anton didn’t kill carla jean. but he probably did he seemed pretty hapy living the house.and the way he checked his shoes/boot whatever made me think he was checking for blood…
*darn* :(
craig..if he was thrown for a loop. whay did anton seem so happy when he was leaving the house ???
maybe he enjoyed killing someone that stood up to him.even more…
he may have got thrown for a loop because he may have been getting paranoid.he re checks his mirror for kids…on a bike.
you figure with all the killing and killings he’s done.someone got to have friend that wants to even to score.and it may be hard to stop what’s coming.if you *don’t* know what’s coming….
also i wonder if wal mart is going to complain ?????
you know..they live in a trailer park…..and and L. tells carla she doesn’t have to go back to wal-mart….
“letting her live is not incriminating.”
True enough, sartre. But, just to split hairs a bit, why would Anton want to stick around? He’s already wanted by the police for multiple murders — including a cop — and if I’m not mistaken he was driving a stolen pickup.
I tend to think the Coens slipped in some tipoffs to those familiar with the book, but maybe they left it vague to placate film audiences.
I read an interview with the Coens about the ending, and the reaction was “not this again.” But I really wonder if they regret doing the ending they did. And if they do, I wonder if they’d rather be MORE faithful to the book rather than less so.
This is the Cats of blog posts. Or the Dark Side of the Moon, if you prefer.
Don’t die, thread! Fight, damn you, fight!
(in David Letterman voice) Midniiiiight and the kitties are sleeeepingggg….
**SPOLIER**
You have a point, Pierre. Maybe Anton was being extra-cautious. But then again, the Police didn’t seem to have anything to link him to the earlier crimes.
It’s very hard for me to interpret the film’s open-ended elements without bringing to them my knowledge of the book. This is probably the only film I wish I’d seen before reading the book. Instead of being blown away by what must be a powerful story to have unfold in front of you for the first time – I was a little removed from it. I knew every thrilling aspect of characterization and plot before it came up. And for me the book’s strengths in terms of ideas and emotional resonance were greatly diluted by the film’s closing sections. As I’m sure you would anticipate Pierre, I feel that if the Coens were going to have the courage to go so far towards the book’s ending, then why didn’t they go a little further and nail the fucker? I still thought it an amazing film, but for these reasons it didn’t quite capture my heart.
http://www.boxofficeprophets.com/column/index.cfm?columnID=10336
glimmer: I thought he might have felt guilty for taking the money and the gun and leaving the man to die. It’s really the same as feeling bad for him I suppose.
sartre: I try to avoid the book before the movie simply because, like you, I can’t divorce myself from the expectations of the written word and how I mentally interpreted it vs the film version. Which inevitably leads to the “book was better”…although not reading the book first sure wouldn’t have made DaVinci Code any less mind-numbing.
As for the ending and the Coens, I could be wrong but I’m guessing they hate having to repeatedly answer simplistic questions on these press junketts, but I always figured they don’t mind confounding audiences for better or worse. I’ve never seen them ever explain the meaning of The Man Who Wasn’t There or Barton Fink and they have always deftly deflected questions on the hat in Miller’s Crossing. I don’t think they went out of their way to make it oblique…it’s just that the themes of the movie are equally open-ended and unresolved. Their interviews do indicate a deep respect for the novel and McCarthy though.
Just my two cents.
OK, I just returned from No Country after my second viewing and I have one question:
SPOILER ALERT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
When Sheriff Ed enters the crime scene at the motor hotel in El Paso, we briefly see Chigurh hiding with what appears to be his rifle in a dark corner and it’s clearly implied that he’s inside the hotel room, waiting for the sheriff to enter. But after the sheriff enters, he turns on the lights in the bathroom of the small hotel room and it’s (apparently) highly unlikely that the sheriff would not have seen him were he hiding in the open closet. The sheriff sits down, notices the grate has been removed from the AC system, and fade to black.
So was Chigurh in the room? And if he was, why doesn’t he kill the sheriff? He’d have no reason not to.
It’s possible you all discussed this earlier and it was explained and I missed it because I skipped a bunch of posts to avoid the There Might Be Blood comments. If so, then just cut and paste the relevant info. This scene is really bugging me.
Otherwise, I really enjoyed the movie a second time through. I love how a good Coen brothers movie can really reward repeat viewings.
Another SPOILER:
One other thing. The poster for the movie depicts a moment that never occurs in the movie. Llewellyn is never seen running with his rifle or the water jug and he never has the two together in the same scene. When he returns to the scene of the fracas, he carries only the .45 he takes off the Mexican under the tree. And he puts down the water bottle long before he begins running.
I’ve been seeing that poster for months, so it just jumped out at me that the moment never occured in the movie. I hate when promotional materials aren’t consistent with the film.
That scene has confused a lot of people. The Coens were careful to show the only way out of the motel was a window that was locked from the inside. I believe Chigurh wasn’t in the room but in Bell’s imagination. Chigurh sort of symbolizes everything that Bell fears. He even refers to him at one point as a ghost, and there’s that bit of weirdness in the Moss trailer where each man sees his own reflection in the TV set.
Don’t ask me how Bell knew what Chigurh looked like in order to imagine him in the first place. I don’t think it was that literal of an imagining.
***Book Spoilers***
In the book, Chigurh is in a car in the parking lot when Bell goes into the motel room. Bell feels like he’s being watched, calls for back up, drives off and then waits to see if anyone leaves when help arrives. No one does, they search all the cars and there is no Chigurh.
****end book spoilers****
I had the same response you did to the image of Moss running with the satchel and the gun.
There are so many questions to consider that we may be discussing this film during NEXT year’s Oscar race.
That scene confused me, too. I couldn’t tell where Chigurh was hiding — it could’ve been a closet or the air vent. Because of the locked window, I sorta wondered whether Bell thought Chigurh might be in there but decided to leave anyway ‘cuz he knew he was a sitting duck if Chigurh actually was there. What I’m suggesting is that this might be seen as the moment where Bell realized he had become obsolete as a law enforcement officer — the catalytic moment where he decided to retire while he still had the chance. Bell’s looking at the TV screen might be interpreted as his seeing things the way Chigurh sees them — getting into his mind — and therefore convincing him to cut his losses.
Craig, your belief that it was Chigurh was there in Bell’s imagination is interesting and plausible. I do wonder, though, why the Coens would want to add any more question marks by injecting an abstraction into a screenplay they must’ve known would be confusing to audience members unfamiliar with the book.
These are both interesting ideas, and both potentially plausible, although outside of a little dialogue it’s hard to know if either one is completely accurate. I’ve also been thinking a lot about the reflections in the TV and the conversation between Ed and the older retired sheriff (is that supposed to be his father or uncle…I can never tell). In one sense, Ed is building up Chigurh to represent something emblematic of his fear of the change he perceives in the old around him, but in another his older (and clearly wiser) counterpart is telling him that change is inevitable and to put himself at the center of it is not only foolish, but egotistical.
So if Chigurh is indeed a spectre haunting Ed’s psyche, what does that end up saying about Ed?
In a sense, the crime scene scene is the most overt moment in the movie where the Coens are clearly manipulating our perception of reality in the film, and the one scene that strays heavily into David Lynch territory. I say that because the close-up of the punched-out lock, surrounded in blackness and glowing with a smoky light from the cruiser’s headlights, reminded me a LOT of Lynch’s visual style. A very mundane inanimate object suddenly becomes infused with terror and dread, almost a dream/nightmare-like quality to it.
They do the same thing with the wrapper unravelling during Chigurh’s conversation with the store owner earlier in the movie. Such a simple thing suddenly becomes weighted with symbolism and terror.
And is just me or does the shot of the truck on the hill remind you of Close Encounters…a lot? Love that whole setup.
One other thing…what is it with the Coen’s and quaint owners of the little rural stores? Raising Arizona, Oh Brother, and now No Country all have brief but memorable scenes where a main character interacts with the owner of a small store, the owner always behind the counter. It’s a very small, insignificant thing but it keeps happening. From “unless round is funny” to “I don’t want FOP, I’m a Dapper Dan man!” to “I need to know what the stakes are”, they keep having these little idiosyncratic moments in their films. One could argue that in a sense, Billy Bob’s Ed from Man Who Wasn’t There was an extension of this minor supporting character, this time as the unwitting star of the store(y).
I dunno, I could be reading too much into it. Maybe it was Utah.
**Book Spoilers**
In the book’s ending we receive a back story for the Sheriff that helps make sense of why he is so emotionally weighted down by the case. Something happened in the Sheriff’s past that left him fundamentally doubting his moral and physical courage/mettle. Particularly as measured against that of his Sheriff father. In many ways he tried to find redemption through the choices he made to be a sheriff and the kind of peace officer he sought to become. At one level his whole professional and personal life was shaped by his desire to disprove what he feared himself to be. The current case disconcerted him so much not just because of the scale and nature of the violence alone (as depicted in the film). But also because he instinctively sensed that something was coming towards him – in the form of a showdown with the perpetrator of these terrible crimes – that would test his moral and physical courage/mettle again. He feared that he would fail that test. In the book he does, in a manner of speaking. The Sheriff makes the choice to stay hidden in his car and to not pursue Chigurh upon the villain’s motel exit. It was the smart move – why senselessly sacrifice yourself? But for the Sheriff it was the test that he knew was coming and that feared he would again fail. In line with the book’s theme with respect fate and free will, one can’t change who we are. And he was always going to act in the way he did when tested in this way. This is why the Sheriff is experiencing an existential crisis by the story’s end. He can’t accept without terrible judgment that he is the person who he is. Not in the way that the psychopathic Chigurh can accept himself and others.
I understand that dispensing with the back story meant also dispensing with the self-preservation element in relation to the motel scene. But I’m curious to find that Pierre has still picked up on some hint of this dimension in the film.
I’m not quite sure I understood what you were saying Pierre. I was saying the Sherrif imagined Chigurh just before he walked into the motel room. Are you saying the Sherrif didn’t go in at all?
I had the same feeling with the lock Joel as you did. For me it was kind of like the ‘blue box’ moment announcing that we’re going into Ed’s head for a minute.
Ellis is not Ed’s father, when Ed is talking about his dream at the end he refers to his father having died younger “So in a sense he was the younger man”…or something to that effect.
Part of the story for me was how Ed was not the typical Sheriff hero you’re expecting. He’s smart, but he’s old and afraid. He’s way out of his jurisdiction by the end and he only wants to protect the two young citizens of his county. The rest of it, the drugs, the mexicans, Chigurh, he doesn’t understand and he doesn’t want a part of it. But he fails even in his small mission and he feels guilty about it. This is part of why people are rejecting the ending I think. It just doesn’t fit the mold of the mainstream american thriller the Coens were so massively successful at playing in the first 3/4s of the movie.
As an old man, he tries to take consolation in his dream where his father is waiting for him by the fire….”And then I woke up.”
Damn, that ending still haunts me.
And the shopkeeper scene is the biggest example I keep thinking of when I think of this as the most ‘mature’ Coen movie. In all the other scenes, it’s played for laughs, but here the laughter is uncomfortable and it’s not directed at the shopkeeper. You end up feeling sorry and scared for the fellow, especially after you’ve seen the movie and you know the full breadth and depth of what Chigurh is capable of.
Here’s my one complaint about the movie, the only false note in the whole 2 hours: Carla Jean’s mother. She’s a cartoon that would’ve been more at home in any of their other movies but not this one.
And Sartre, my take on the book was that Bell drove off but was waiting to see if Chigurh was rousted by the backup, but Chigurh wasn’t there. Maybe I’ll have to read that scene again.
Agreed on Carla Jean’s mother, she looks like something off of Mama’s Family and doesn’t belong in this film.
It hadn’t really dawned on me, but you’re right about Carla Jean’s mother. She is completely over-the-top for the tone of the film. While it’s nice to have a momentary respite from how bleak and heavy the movie is in that section (and her performance would be perfect in other Coen brothers’ movies), it just doesn’t fit here.
SPOILERY!!:
As for Ed, I also picked up on his uneasiness. There are a bunch of limited moments that hint he is not prepared to ever face Chigurh. These include sending his deputy into Llewelyn’s trailer first (“Gun drawn?”), his distinct hesitation to re-enter the motor hotel crime scene, and his mention of the “mess that is coming” at the fracas crime scene. Before he has that conversation with the retired deputy, it’s clear that the whole business of Chigurh’s rampage is weighing heavily on him.
As for the shopkeeper scene, you’re correct: it’s definitely not played for laughs. It’s actually quite terrifying and the growing, numbing fear in the shopkeeper is palpable. Both audiences I saw the movie with were stone-silent during this scene…you could have heard a pin drop in a packed theater. You know what’s coming long before the shopkeeper fully grasps it and when he wins the coin toss, you’re desperately hoping he won’t slip up and give Chigurh a reason to change his mind.
The mother was played broadly for comic relief. But the character was also a device for communicating the idea that Llewelyn was always going to be trouble. And as such, Carla Jean to some extent was complicit in the fate that befell her by marrying him.
Thank you, sartre, for saying much what I was going to say about Carla Jean’s mother. There are reasons why the mother character stood out. First, there really are people like that. Next, knowing how the Coens work so intimately with their films from start to finish, I think it’s fair to suggest they wanted Carla Jean’s mother to be different from other characters so we’d better hear what she said: The first time I laid eyes on Llewellyn two letters came to mind — NG — and that’s no good! One way a filmmaker makes a key message memorable is to do things that make the moment stand out. Mama may have “the cancer” but she’s a survivor and by no accident.
“I was saying the Sherrif imagined Chigurh just before he walked into the motel room. Are you saying the Sherrif didn’t go in at all?”
Craig, I’m saying that once Bell checked out the room he realized that Chigurh was probably there. Because Chigurh had stared into Llewellyn’s TV screen earlier – connecting with him telepathically or existentially or something – we can see Bell doing similarly by connecting with Chirgurh on the motel set. Having done so, Bell knows what he’s up against but senses that if he leaves quietly he can survive. I’m referring to his particular survival right there in the motel room and also to survival in a broader, metaphorical sense.
Thanks to those who mentioned the shopkeeper scene, the “guns drawn” moment and others. I’d say the maturity in the former scene also shows up in the scene with the trailer park office clerk. Even though she’s quite a character, the audience is not invited to look down at her but, rather, with and for her. Her human worth comes through despite the color of her character.
I think Pierre, we’re largely on the same page then, no regarding Chigurh/Bell/Motel?
I absolutely see what you’re both saying about the mom and I’ll be thinking about that when I go back for viewing #4
Finally saw this movie, and trying to get my head around you. Your review certainly helped, I think it’s one of your best ones, and I hope I’ll be able to write one of a comparable level. Luckily, I have over two months before it’s due
*SPOILERS*
About Carla Jean, I didn’t see that part as open-ended: he killed her, that’s why he checks his shoes for blood on her porch. I thought it was refreshing how much the Coen’s let the audience connect the dots here: for example, we KNOW, when Llewelyn wakes up, that he’s thinking about the one guy left alive, without an annoying voice-over needed to clarify the point. I think Joel gave the perfect description of Llewelyn’s character: “tempted by opportunity, ruled by morality, undone by both”.
This is such a hard film to get your head around… but the Coens are at the top of their game.
So glad you liked it Hedwig, and if it’s any consolation after 3 viewings I’m still trying to get a hold of it.
I’m hoping to post something new about it, talking about some of the thoughts I’ve had since this original review.
and ***Spoiler*** You’re right. Carla Jean is a goner. There’s no doubt about it. The Coens showed you everything you needed to know except the act itself. ***End Spoiler***
I bit the bullet last night and convinced a friend drive to the theater (in another state, no less) to see this instead of National Treasure 2.
Even though I already knew the story, I don’t think I’ve ever been so fully absorbed by a film. It combines some of the best elements of Blood Simple, Touch of Evil, and countless other films. The long chase sequence at dawn was captivating, as was the shotgun behind the hotel room door, the briefcase full of money in the air vent… I could go on and on.
And I think the conclusion captured exactly the tone McCarthy had created for the novel. It leaves you with an indescribable feeling. You can’t stop what’s coming, and maybe you never could. And, sometimes, even knowing the future won’t change your actions – won’t stop you from making a stupid mistake. It’s something intangible, it just is.
*Spoiler*
To conclude this rambling, though, there was one change from the novel which I’ve been trying to process. In the novel, Moss dies with a young, female hitchhiker he picked up on the road. Before that, they have a deep conversation in a fast food restaurant. He isn’t attracted to her sexually, but their being found together must have troubled Carla Jean. In the film, Moss seems to entertain the idea of taking up the pool girl on her offer right before the fade out. It’s not integral to the plot, but I was left wondering if anything had actually happened between them and why Moss, who seems otherwise faithful and concerned for his wife, would do such a thing. Also, how did the Mexicans find him so quickly? El Paso isn’t a small town and I don’t recall Carla Jean’s mother telling the man which hotel he/they were staying at. The vagueness of Moss’ death kind of bugged me and my friend said he hated the ending.
WJ, glad you went to NCfOM instead of NT2 and even more glad it sounds like it was worth the trip, though it’s too bad your friend didn’t agree.
Why they condensed the hitchhiker scene in the book into the lady-by-the-pool scene in the movie remains a bit of a mystery to me. At this point, things happen so quickly in the movie, I almost always overlook it, but lots of people have wondered about it.
I don’t think he actually did anything with the woman in the pool. She died in the pool and he died in his room still fully dressed. The question is, why have her in the movie at all? I’m still not sure what to take from it.
The Mexican asked Carla Jean’s mother where they were going in El Paso but the scene cuts before she actually tells him.
WJ, I too had difficult with that scene. The interaction between Moss and the teenager served an important purpose in the book. But truncating it to this extent left me wondering why bother with it at all. The time saved could have been used to extend the conversation between Chigurh and Carla Jean to include more of the book’s dialogue for the scene. It was an opportunity to give more focused information about Chigurh’s philosophy and the story’s themes. But that’s a personal bugbear of mine, the voicing of which poor Craig has repeatedly endured. I am open to the possibility, however, that the Coen’s less literal approach best captured the spirit and poetry of the book’s ending, if not its rigor.
MASSIVE SPOILERS BELOW.
The Coens were on Elvis Mitchell’s The Treatment (KCRW.com) this week and I think it was there that they mentioned that converting the book to the film meant they had to find the elements of the book that worked together thematically, alter them to focus on the themes they wanted to invest into with the film and leave the rest. I got the impression, not having read the book, that the Coens were deeply respectful of McCarthy’s work but wanted to trim it down to its essence. I don’t know why they made the changes you mention, but I got the impression the pool scene was reinforcing Llewelyn’s fidelity and concern for his wife. It also places him outside his room when the Mexicans arrive, creating the plausible scenario for a bloody confrontation.
My take was that the shoot-out occured with him by the pool, hence the beer-drinking woman is killed in the hail of bullets and Llewelyn dies headed back into his room to retrieve the money and leave. He doesn’t make it.
But then the Coens also mentioned that they were concerned about not breaking their record of never having a film longer than 2 hours in length, so maybe that’s the reason for the changes from the book.
Or maybe it was Utah.
“Or maybe it was Utah”. LOL!
I meant to do a whole post comparing the book to the movie, but I never got it off the ground. Jeez, if I posted everything that was in my head, I might actually be on to something here!
Anyway, not having read the book until after the movie, I think the Coens did a remarkable job of translating it, remaining true to it, but also being themselves.
Much detail had to go of course, but they did such a great job of including the important bits and letting you fill in the blanks yourself.
***Spoilers*****
Here’s how the pool scene goes down in the movie:
Woman: Hey Mr. Sporting Goods.
Moss: Hey yourself.
Woman: You a sport?
Moss: That’s me.
Woman: I got beers in my room.
Moss: Waiting for my wife.
Woman: Oh. That’s who you keep lookin out the window for?
Moss: Half.
Woman: What else then?
Moss: Lookin for what’s comin.
Woman: Yeah but no one ever sees that. Beer. That’s what’s comin, I’ll bring the ice chest out here. You can stay married.
Moss: Ma’am I know what beer leads to.
Woman: Beer leads to more beer.
And that’s the last we see either of them alive.
I think the scene has mulitple purposes that don’t necessarily parallel with the hitchhiker scene in the book. First of all, in the prior scenes, The mexicans have discovered that Moss is in El Paso, Carla Jean has just told Ed Tom and Chigurh has stolen the chicken truck and is headed to El Paso himself.
Everyone is converging on El Paso for the big (offscreen!) climax. The last time we’ve seen Moss he’d just gotten out of Mexico and he’s telling Carla Jean what to do.
We need a scene placing him in the motel in El Paso and this scene is kind of a diversionary tacting and it also acts as a pause or a breath catching before the shit hits the fan. It’s also a little moment where Llewelyn can prove his ultimate decency in case we had any doubts before he dies and it forshadows what’s about to happen a little bit:
It accomplishes much of what the hitchhiker scenes accomplished but much more economically.
The comments section that follow this review pretty much tell it all with a variety of intelligent people–sartre and Pierre at the forefront–responding to specific passages in the review itself and to the interpretations of the film in a theamtic context. (Joel and Hedwig also made mightly contributions to the discussion)
I would say that the paragraph beginning with “Suspense aside….” pretty much summarizes the entire review the standpoint of a unifying element–which is poetry–the poetic qualities of the dialogue.
The “in the part of Texas” paragraph is simply marvelous. The description of Bardem is particularly striking.
The summary appraisal of the film within the Coen’s oeuvre is notable as is the urging of readers to see the film–50/50 chances or as Anton says “call it!” Nice–a nifty little rhetorical icing.
In the end, what Craig saw in NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN in terms of “texture” is exactly what he imbued this truly outstanding review with.
They seem to go hand in hand.
Thank you Sam. Your check is in the mail! :)