The Coen brothers’ “No Country For Old Men,” is perhaps the last movie I would expect to draw comparisons to “Brokeback Mountain.” Yet walking out of the theater early last week, it was the first thing that crossed my mind. Both are set on vast landscapes that, in addition to providing enticing scenery, mirror the psychological bareness of the characters. Most importantly, both movies say as much with silence as they do with words.
What is essentially a thriller about a cold-blooded killer in search of money that has fallen into the hands of another man, “No Country,” comes very close to being a great movie. Unfortunately it becomes unhinged in its final act.
In many ways it reminded me of last year’s “A History of Violence.” Just like that film, “No Country,” is a psychological portrait of men overtaken by violent acts. It’s an exciting change from the normal fugitive’s on the loose summer blockbuster, and it’s helped by a great script and a handful of incredible performances. Through the skillful storytelling of the Coen brothers, it is a film that keeps the audience on the edge of their seats cringing, yet mesmerized, by the horrific violence being depicted.
The movie drops the audience into the events going on with little or no back-story. A hunter (played by Josh Brolin) stumbles upon a briefcase filled with two million dollars and what ensues is a chase that finds him narrowly escaping the grasp of a psychotic killer. We don’t ever find out how these men became the violent beasts that they are today which in turn makes it even more chilling.
At the center of the madness is the incredible Javier Bardem. He gives a performance that is as scary as anything I’ve ever seen on screen. When I was watching I was reminded of Anthony Hopkins’ Hannibal Lector and I would be amazed if Bardem doesn’t take home a handful of awards come January. His character is a man of few words, but he is able to say more with his icy stare than with an entire script.
That’s not to say that the Coen brother’s don’t deserve a huge amount of credit for the script they’ve written. Like their other films, they populate the periphery of the action (that travels across Texas) perfectly. From the desk clerk at a run down motel, to a gas station attendant and everything in between, the script adds the needed touch of dark humor to the proceedings. These minor characters’ interactions with the main men tell us more than any of the words that come from the men’s mouths.
Though it’s a viciously bloody movie, it becomes less about the actual violence than it is about what pushes humans to be capable of such acts. For 2/3rds of the movie the audience buys into it without craving much exposition, only in the last 1/3rd do the Coen’s falter with their script. Perhaps in an effort to tie things up, or to add an emotional punch to what we’ve seen, the final act declines into a series of speeches that quickly lost my interest. It’s unfortunate that an otherwise great movie is dragged down at the end because it left me feeling slightly cheated. I wanted to absolutely love this film, but in the end I was torn.
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