Retired welder and Vietnam vet Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is hunting near his rural Texas home when he stumbles across a drug deal gone bad. Moss finds one critically-wounded survivor, a truck filled with Mexican heroin, and a case filled two million dollars. Moss takes the money home, but his conscience gets the better of him, leading him to return to the scene in order to bring the dying man some water.

Unfortunately, he is spotted by a group of men who have come looking for the money, the drugs, or perhaps both; Moss escapes and goes on the run, but a merciless killer named Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem) is dispatched to find him, the missing money, and the dope, which has also vanished.

Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), dumbfounded and sickened by the unimaginable cruelty that has descended upon his hometown, also begins following Moss’s trail, hoping to bring him in safely before Chigurh, who is coldly and methodically cutting a swath of death across the state, catches up to him.

CRITIQUE

I was about one-third of the way through Cormac McCarthy’s No Country for Old Men when I started wishing McCarthy had written the novel while Sam Peckinpah was still alive. I couldn’t help but wonder what Peckinpah in his prime (the era starting with The Wild Bunch and ending with Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia) could have done with the material. Every theme that Peckinpah infused into his best films, as well as many of the ones he wrestled with in his personal life, were represented in the novel, making it the perfect fodder for the director.

At the time I had no idea Joel and Ethan Coen were already shooting a film version (I was under the impression they were still working on bringing James Dickey’s To the White Sea to the screen), but upon learning the brothers had already started production two thoughts went through me head: I hoped they would stay faithful to the source material; and I hoped the film would be the product of the Coens who made Fargo, Miller’s Crossing, and Blood Simple, not the ones who made Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers. I’m usually not so lucky, but this time both my wishes were granted. No Country for Old Man ranks near the top of the Coens’ body of work, second in my mind to only O Brother, Where Art Thou?

Despite being arguably the most accessible novel McCarthy has written so (The Road is fairly straightforward, too, although possibly even more off-putting for some), No Country for Old Men is by no means a conventional thriller. It features the requisite chases, close calls and shootouts, all of which work on a visceral level (just as they do in the film), but it constantly subverts genre expectations and uses the mechanics of the plot as the springboard for another of the author’s examinations of the dark side of human existence.

Character and incident drive the book far more than the plot, and that’s the case with the film. The Coens are extremely faithful to their source material; they’ve dropped one minor subplot and some backstory elements for one character, but they retain the outcome (which will undoubtedly anger some) and much of the dialogue (the poetry of McCarthy’s words takes on a gallows humor quality in the hands of the Coens and their perfect cast), and don’t attempt to resolve questions McCarthy himself wasn’t interesting in answering (I’m still unclear exactly how Woody Harrelson’s bounty hunter and Stephen Root’s businessman fit into the equation). The overall impact is just the same, with the film supplying repeated blows to the body and mind (the violence here is all the more sickening because of its matter-of-fact presentation), leaving anyone who is drawn into it both emotionally bruised and intellectually stimulated.

Using a deceptively simple template of an Everyman being pursued by both Good and Evil, both the book and film immerse their audiences in a heady moral morass. The story is as bleak as the landscape that serves as its backdrop, but any world that gives birth to a killer as imponderably efficient as Chigurh cannot help but appear bleak. It’s easy to see the story as pessimistic and defeatist, with fate (or Fate) acting as a maddeningly fickle mistress, but look and you’ll find (just as you can in any of McCarthy’s works), if not exactly something that can be called hope, at least an understanding of what drives individuals to continue the fight in a world they seemingly cannot change.

As dark as his works are, and as occupied by the lasting effects of violence and the ephemeral effects of the good we do as he is, it’s not hard to see that even after all these years McCarthy still simply cannot understand how Man can be such a destructive creature, a quandary the Coens themselves have wrestled with. (Up until now their best treatment of these themes came in Fargo, in which Marge’s closing lines beautifully encapsulated many people’s feelings on the subject).

But while the book and film recognize the existence of the basest qualities of humanity, and they understand that the actions brought about by these qualities, as isolated as they actually are when stacked alongside the rest of human existence, can seem so prevalent, they doesn’t revel in such actions or present them in order to point out how pointless life is, but instead paint as black and unforgiving a picture as possible and bring the reader/viewer to one question: Why? You wonder how someone like Chigurh can exist, you wonder why Moss thinks he can escape from what clearly appears to be his destiny, and you wonder why Bell thinks he can possibly do any good (or any Good).

I don’t think there are easy answers to any of those questions, but if you dig deep I think you’ll see that even though the plot is on the surface fatalistic, there is actually a tiny vein of hope running through it, one that comes in the form of free will. Chigurh seems resigned to fate, both his and his victims’, while Bell and (especially) Moss are not. And although at first glance the final outcome may seem to suggest otherwise, I don’t think McCarthy or the Coens think fate is a stronger force than free will. (Notice how the Coens’ dramas seem fatalistic, while their comedies are often driven by the overcoming of one’s perceived fate or lot in life.)        

The film’s climax, especially the final scene, seems to have split audiences right down the middle, with some finding it a perfect ending and just as many wondering if, to put it simply, that’s all there was. If you happen to fall into the latter camp, you can blame McCarthy; just as they are with almost every single scene in the original novel, the Coens are dead-on faithful to the source material in the closing moments.

I’ll admit that when I read the novel I came to the last page and wondered if there had been a printing error, as I wasn’t expecting to story to come to such an abrupt conclusion. But I eventually realized that there was no need for McCarthy to go any further, as the way he caps the book is perfect.

The final line (and the final line of dialogue in the film) exquisitely, expertly, succinctly brings a particular character’s journey to a close, in turn closing out the story as a whole. Pay close attention to what this character says and you’ll understand exactly what he means, why he chose to bring it to light, and exactly how he’s been affected. One more word--or in the case of the film, one more frame--would have been overkill.

THE VIDEO

The 2.35:1/1080p transfer perfectly replicates the impeccably naturalistic look with which the Coens and cinematographer Roger Deakins (who received one of two 2007 Oscar nominations for his work here) imbue the film. Daytime exteriors and interiors are fiercely bright, with an organically baked contrast and horizons in the former that extend for miles and miles. Nighttime exteriors and low-lit interiors look equally good, with rich, deep blacks and spot-on shadow detail. A strong sense of depth, a consistent three-dimensional quality, and a natural, even grain structure lend the transfer a smooth, film-like quality throughout.

THE AUDIO

The most striking thing about the uncompressed PCM 5.1 audio is just how quiet it is. That’s not meant as a dig, as the sound design is meticulous in the extreme, with silence used just as effectively as gunshots, shattering glass, footsteps, or any other standard component of a thriller soundtrack. There’s a disconcerting realism to the effects here; the manner in which they’re employed renders them unnerving (gunshots, especially those from the silenced rifle employed by Chigurh, are so impactful you can practically feel them, and the hiss of the tank attached to that cattlegun is almost unbearable). Dialogue is always crystal clear and natural sounding; bass response is also realistic, but it still rumbles nicely. An English Dolby Digital 5.1 track is also included. English, French, and Spanish subtitles are available.

THE EXTRAS

The Making of No Country for Old Men (25 minutes) could have been another run-of-the-mill making-of featurette, but the Coens’ signature input puts a spin on it. Most of the major players discuss how they came to be involved, the directors talk about why they wanted to adapt the novel, etc.

Working with the Coens (8 minutes) is a chance for the cast and crew (including some longtime Coen collaborators) to discuss their experiences working with the filmmakers.

Diary of a Country Sheriff (6 minutes) is primarily interviews with Jones and Bardem, who provide more insight into their characters.

FINAL THOUGHTS

No Country for Old Men is a truly great film, beautifully brought to home video in this release. Some may be bothered by the minimal extras, but I think the film speaks for itself. Pick this one up as soon as possible.