Coens’ attempt at ‘Old’ form comes up short

by Andy Schmidt

Friday, November 16, 2007 19:56

As the pioneers of postmodern cinema, filmmakers Joel and Ethan Coen ("The Big Lebowski") have currently departed from their progressive methodology. In recent years, they have taken a step backward stylistically, becoming iconoclasts against their own technique by delivering unremarkable Hollywood fare, such as "Intolerable Cruelty" in 2003, and the equally "Intolerable" remake of "The Ladykillers" in 2004.

Unfortunately, after a three-year hiatus and two forays into typical industry schlock, Joel and Ethan have not completely regained their appetite for cinematic art in their latest film, "No Country for Old Men."

The Coens' screenplay was adapted from Pulitzer Prize-winner Cormac McCarthy's 2005 novel about an aging Texas sheriff and the events following a spoiled drug deal. Being the movie buffs they are, the novel's mixture of crime and western genres — two categories with a rich history in film — seems like the perfect foundation the Coen Brothers would need to wield their cinematic knowledge.

However, the final result does not feel like a solid effort. "No Country for Old Men" ends up being a tragedy in three acts, for its characters as well as its audience.

The film is framed with two monologues by Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones, "In the Valley of Elah"), the sheriff of Terrell Country. Bell's first monologue is a commentary on the changing times with respect to violence. The increasing senseless acts of violence that Bell observes over his tenure as Sheriff have a grave effect on him. His hopeless expressions closely parallel those of Marge Gunderson's (Frances McDormand) in "Fargo," Joel and Ethan Coen's magnum opus from 1996. Despite these characters' mutual sentimentality, Sheriff Bell is simply an observer — lacking the admirable heroics of Marge Gunderson — who offers no meaning or resolution to the actions depicted in the film. 

"No Country for Old Men" was filmed by the Coen Brothers' resident cinematographer Roger Deakins, who has been behind the camera for every Coen outfit since "Barton Fink" in 1991. Deakins shoots the first section of the picture with adherence to the visual style that the Old West deserves. His consideration of the wide open terrain beautifully resembles a John Ford epic.

Complementary to Deakins' photography is the Sergio Leone-like pace of the film's opening. This slow and steady tempo leads to the directors' clash of Wild West cinematography with modern narrative. "No Country for Old Men" is a neo-Western, exchanging train robberies for heroine deals, horses for Ford pick-up trucks and six shooters for a captive bolt pistol — a far cry from the wood chipper used to dispose of  Carl Showalter (Steve Buscemi) in "Fargo," but still offering the extreme violence that the Coen Brothers are known for.

Once the "Country" is visually established, viewers are introduced to Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin, "American Gangster"), the yokel who stumbles upon the $2 million left over from the bloody drug deal. Moss, who is as bad at hunting antelope as he is at getting away with a large sum of money that is not his, is quickly pursued by Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem, "Collateral"), the psychopathic "owner" of the money.

The Coens' second act is a series of smart and authentic suspense as Chigurh chases Moss across southern Texas and into Mexico. Moss and Chigurh's engagements are a delight to watch, but it is hard to know whom to root for. The hollowed-out Moss is no Shane — we simply do not care whether he lives or dies.

Since the Coens' disregard distinction between the good and the bad, "No Country for Old Men" becomes only a search to see what Chigurh will do next. His violent and unpredictable actions are a perfect fit for a Coen film, but like Bell and Moss, he possesses the same murky demeanor. "What's the most you've ever lost in a coin toss?" asks Chigurh as he shares philosophical dialogue with a would-be victim, letting the man's fate ride on the chance of heads or tails. But for most of the film, Chigurh is shooting first and asking questions later.

The craft of "No Country for Old Men" is undeniable, but it suffers a fate similar to that of its characters when Joel and Ethan don't keep up their end of the bargain in the final act of the film. With such antipathy between Moss and Chigurh, most Western enthusiasts will expect one final showdown involving the two gunslingers, but disappointingly the film takes a solemn turn toward the anticlimactic.

We are left with nothing more than the closing monologue by Ed Tom Bell. His commentary — this time a description of his dream from the previous night — again dwells on the security of the past. Sheriff Bell's desire for this old world safety has become nothing but a dream, while the Coen Bothers' dream of ressurectting their previous style has turned into the most disappointing Western since "Heaven's Gate."