2log

I have long been meaning to write reviews of two movies I saw recently (last month, actually), but due to my busy schedule, I have been unable to do so until now.

No Country for Old Men
The Coen Brothers' latest film has only grown in my estimation in the month since I saw it. It has three 't's going for it: tone, theme, and technique. As is well-known in film theory, these three 't's are the requisite elements of a great film.

Tone: No Country for Old Men is like the Coen Brothers' classic Fargo in its mixture of extreme violence and small-town folksy humor. In Fargo, there was the indomitable Marge Gunderson, the very pregnant police chief of Brainerd, MN. In No Country, we have the (more domitable) Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones). Surveying a grisly crime scene, Sheriff Bell says, "If this ain't a mess, it'll do till the mess gets here." Later on, after the body count has risen still further, Sheriff Bell and another old-time Texas lawman discuss the decline of civilization: punk kids with green hair and nose rings who won't say "sir" or "ma'am." In both movies, these Prairie Home Companion-esque touches of humor help to leaven the heavy stuff going on all around. Perhaps I'm reading too much of my personal philosophy into it, but it's as if the films are saying there's lots of evil in the world, so it's best to try to stay calm and have a laugh or two. It's worth noting that the characters who fare best in both films are those who refuse to freak out.

Theme: Though it's set in 1980 with cars and telephones and modern weaponry, No Country is really a classic western. Everything about the film is in epic proportions, from the wide open spaces of the southwest to the unstoppable dark force of Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem). The themes of the movie are appropriately mythic: greed, death, the forces of civilization vs. lawlessness. The movie is based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy, which I have not read, but I saw connections with other McCarthy books that I have read. In particular, witnessing Chigurh's seemingly superhuman invincibility, I was reminded of the diabolical Judge Holden from Blood Meridian. McCarthy, like the Coens, is adept at mixing humor with the most graphic violence I have ever seen in print. Apparently this is the first time the brothers have adapted someone else's work for a film, and it seems to be a perfect match. Perhaps it is the influence of McCarthy that gives No Country a more fatalistic bent than Fargo. Gerrit described Chigurh to me as an Angel of Death, and I think the term is apt. Once he has set his sights on you, you are powerless to stop him (although for at least one character, death arrives via other agents before Chigurh can get to him). In one confrontation, Chigurh tells his victim to call a coin toss, with the implication that heads or tails is equivalent to life or death, and thus to entrust her fate to chance. She resists him, saying (unfortunately, IMDb doesn't have the exact quote) something like, "There's no chance involved, it's just you." In Fargo, the characters seem to be more in charge of their destinies--it is their bad decisions that bring about their doom, not blind chance.

Technique: The Coen Brothers' skills as filmmakers shine throughout No Country. The film primarily tells its story visually--there are long stretches without dialogue or even music on the soundtrack. There is little in the way of exposition--details are filled in organically as the story progresses. Early on, the Coens introduce us to Anton Chigurh's killing methods, so that later in the film they can build tremendous suspense with the most economical means: stocking feet walking down a hallway, the beeping of a tracking device, etc. Alfred Hitchcock would be proud. Of course, technique for the sake of technique would have little value, but here the Coens always use it to serve the needs of the film and its themes.

Before the Devil Knows You're Dead
As in No Country for Old Men, many of the characters in Before the Devil Knows You're Dead do not live to see the closing credits. The title comes from a proverb that I hadn't heard before: "May you be in heaven a half hour before the Devil knows you're dead." I found the film thoroughly entertaining, but ultimately shallow where No Country was profound.

Everything in Before the Devil Knows You're Dead--every emotion, every action, every character--is heightened to the edge of hysteria. Hardly any scene goes by without some character sobbing, screaming, or pulling on his/her hair. As in Fargo, a single bad decision compounds itself many times over, leading to the downfall of a family of prestigious actors (Philip Seymour Hoffman, Marisa Tomei, Ethan Hawke, Albert Finney, and Rosemary Harris). The moral seems to be that there is no such thing as a victimless crime. (Incidentally, it appears that the cost of hiring such a great cast led to budget shortfalls in other areas--wardrobe was not able to afford a shirt for Ms. Tomei until about halfway through the film. This led one audience member at the showing that Gerrit and I saw to leave the theater about ten minutes into the movie, shouting, "This is the filthiest movie I've ever seen!")

The film is told in a fragmented way (the screen literally breaks up like a jigsaw puzzle at several junctures), doubling back to show the same events from various characters' points of view. This is an effective, if not exactly original, narrative technique, but I thought that it drew too much attention to itself in a way that the Coens' methods in No Country did not. Props to Sidney Lumet for taking risks, though, as he's no spring chicken--the man's 83 and his first film, 12 Angry Men, came out fifty years ago.

My review probably comes across as negative, but I actually did enjoy the film. I was so engrossed in the drama that I couldn't believe nearly two hours had passed when it was over. And yet, with the exception of certain scenes with Ms. Tomei, it doesn't linger in the memory in the same way as No Country for Old Men, or Blood Meridian for that matter. I had my half hour (or perhaps 116 minutes) in Lumet's heaven, but I think I'll take my eternity in the Coen-McCarthy hell.