Movie 666

By Demon

With No Country for Old Men, Joel and Ethan Coen have given us their most structurally daring film to date, upsetting the expectations of the conventional cat-and-mouse criminal thriller to explore not only borderland drug violence, but the violent nature of the universe itself. (article continues after ads)

The Coens are certainly no strangers to subverting the roles of the classic crime picture. Fargo replaced the tough guy cop with the fastidious pregnant woman as protagonist. The Big Liebowski took matters further by utilizing a lazy, unemployed, pot-smoking bowler as hero. Both of these films used their respective leads to expand generic possibilities while exploring themes of human ambition.

No Country does the same, but goes to even further extremes. The movie not only bends character, but breaks the entire structure of the film, turning it into something else completely.

Moss (Josh Brolin of Goonies fame) is a special forces veteran with knowledge of firearms, hunting and tracking, and battlefield savvy. Moss hunts, handles an automatic weapon, uses specialized language (“where is the last man standing”), and tracks down a suitcase of stolen drug money before getting in a personal shooting war with a fearsome hitman named Chigurh (Javier Bardem). Moss has all the ingredients of an unsung cowboy en route to becoming a hero — confidence, rugged good looks, and a pickup truck –- and no matter how deep he digs his hole with Chigurh, we expect he will find a way to crawl out.

The happy ending never materializes, however. Although Moss has the trappings of hero, he ultimately fails in his mission to destroy his antagonist, protect his family, and save himself. His status as hero is less about action and deed than our own expectation as audience about what his role should be in what initially appears to a be a stylish but conventional crime thriller.

A similar quality surrounds Bell (Tommy Lee Jones). Rugged, wise, compassionate – and an experienced lawman — Bell also takes on the role of hero. As the plot unfolds and Bell searches for Moss, we expect its only a matter of time before the two men meet and possibly join forces to destroy Chigurh and restore order to the universe. But they never do.

Bell neither finds Moss nor stops Chigurh. Furthermore, after finding Moss dead, Bell does not engage in clever police work, seek random clues, or carry out any other expectations of genre. He retires. And this despite the fact that the killer is still on the loose and the central crimes of the movie unresolved.

One would be hard pressed to find another film, especially a Hollywood one, where the hero simply quits.

Beyond these unusual character trajectories, the structure of the movie itself takes on unique form and presents what might be considered the biggest cinematic moment of 2007 — which is actually a non-moment, since we never see it… Moss’ death.

When Moss dies, the themes of No Country truly transcend film genre. Early in the film, Moss shows little doubt in his own abilities to extract himself from his increasingly difficult situation. And because we have seen countless movies in which the hero does just that, we assume he will. When Moss tells Chigurh he is going to make him his “special project” we assume it is only a matter of time before Moss figures out a creative way to rid himself of the cold faced nemesis with the haunting bowl shaped hairdo.

But when Moss is unceremoniously dispatched offscreen by what appears to be Mexican drug dealers — for all intents and purposes a third party hitherto ignored if not completely forgotten in the storyline — his death is truly shocking, and at the same time, profound. In one bold stroke, No Country is transformed from a story about conflicting individuals and their dramatic, personal rivalries into a statement about the inexplicable, far reaching breadth of criminal drug culture and the dark workings of chance and violence in the universe itself — forces that deliver consequences without our knowledge or consent and that are ultimately beyond our comprehension.

It’s a technique and philosophy not strange to the French New Wave, a film movement where exploding genres and contemplating existence was a matter of moral urgency. But it’s certainly out of place in this day and age where cloning ideas and conforming to structural rules seem to be artistic mandates as much as political ones. No country for old genres? Certainly that is the case in this movie.

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3. Drugged Out Hollywood Gets Rehabilitated in Traffic
4. The New Lowest Form of Cinematic Life?
5. Doomsday Revisits Dystopia

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