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In the blaze of the 1980 West Texas heat unusual things are going down--unusual at least for a slow-paced, Lone Star small town with Tommy Lee Jones' Sheriff Moss, a world weary sheriff at the helm. The Coen Brothers, drawing from Cormac McCarthy's best-selling novel, have brought us a murder-suspense story with the same minimalist vision as their award-winning film, Fargo. They also employee allegorical symbolism similar to their hit, O Brother, Where Art Thou. This time the brothers are not content to let a familiar genre and storyline tread the same old ground. In this film, the ordinary stares face to face with the surreal. This technique is not unusual, as employed by the brothers Coen's past films, like their brilliant Blood Simple but usually everyday people peer into the unpredictable shock of murder and violence. In this case, however, we find ourselves looking through the eyes of a murderous monster, played to pitch perfection by Javier Bardem, at the ordinary life around him. In one memorable scene, without knowing it, a gas station clerk gambles for his life at the toss of a coin. This is the world of No Country for Old Men.

The story is framed by Jones' Sheriff Moss, who is ready to retire, when his world implodes after a drug-deal-gone-wrong occurs on the outskirts of town. When a local citizen, well played by Josh Brolin, accidentally stumbles onto the scene and takes the two million dollars that was left behind, the drama is set into motion. As the ruthless killer is employed to track down the money and the thief, the familiar plot devices begin to take the usual turns, until the last 20 minutes. What transpires is a game of cat and mouse leaving a path of blood over the quiet, desolate West Texas countryside.

In the world McCarthy and the Coens have created, irony is the jack-of-all-trades. The villain is assisted in his escape by a pair of innocent ten-year-old boys who are willing to give him the shirt off their backs to help him. He would just as soon shoot them as give them the time of day. It is a world that is counter to the usual action film formula. The Josh Brolin character swears, in Rambo-like fashion, that he's going to come after the man who is hired to kill him and turn the tables on him. But rather than becoming the supernatural hero who takes charge and triumphs, he is insignificantly snuffed out, a victim of his own arrogance. Nowhere is revenge or redemption sought in this story. The only resolution found in the plot is that of the killer to keep his own deadly promise to his victim. Yet another time evil encounters the ordinary in the innocent eyes of a victim who says to him, "you don't have to do this." In a moment that resonates like many moments in this film, the killer shakes his head and says, "why does everyone say that?"

At the center of the film is Sheriff Moss, a character Tommy Lee Jones seems to have owned the patent for the last 20 years. But the twist in his characterization is the depth of his surrender and weariness. In his eyes we can see the disbelief and acceptance that run parallel to each other. The script doesn't allow Jones to give the audience any of the spunky, country orneriness that he has been known for in past characters. In this story, his character's role shows how overwhelmed virtue has become with the constant stalking of evil that has invaded his heartland. This trait is well illustrated in a skillfully staged scene in the desolate home of his uncle, memorably played by veteran actor Barry Corbin.

The final scene will be controversial for those who have been conditioned to watch for only the easiest movie plot formulas. It ends with a wink and a nod toward redemption. In a moving moment with his wife, Tess Harper in a graceful cameo appearance, Jones' Moss again leaves us with the feeling that all we can do is face the darkness in the world before us with the hope of the promise that there is more to come--even if the signal only comes through dreams. As this is expressed in Sheriff Moss's final words, the screen goes black and the credits appear.

The film has an allegorical element to it that is consistent with the early church mystery plays. Each character takes on a role that symbolizes the futility of the world in which we live. Jones' sheriff gives the audience the pilgrim who has traveled to the end of his weary rode. He observes evil that surrounds him. At one point he says that he is overwhelmed by it. Bardem's killer reflects a personification of death. He stalks his victims unrelentlessly. He heals himself from his moves and keeps moving. The games he plays with his prey relates strongly to the role that Death played in Bergman's Seventh Veil. In the end, Death keeps moving and by necessity of the allegorical subtext of the film keeps on his hunt, while the virtuous sheriff retires into his dreams where ultimately he will find victory. What may seem like a unresolved ending, comes to a true resolution based on the Coens' allegorical stream that flows through this film.

No Country for Old Men will certainly leave mainstream movie-going audiences, ready for traditional holiday fare, feeling empty-handed and unresolved. For this reason, it may be important to be warned, while this movie is in wide release, it is not a typical film. It is a story where we leave not knowing who gets the money while the villain gets away and the hero retires to riding horses out on the prairies with no vengeance to his name. It turns us toward ourselves to ask the age-old question: can we endure even in the face of the world's deepest evil, hardships and unresolved sorrows?

Terry Roland  December 3, 2007