Llewelyn Moss stumbles upon dead bodies, $2 million and a hoard of heroin in a Texas desert, but methodical killer Anton Chigurh comes looking for it, with local sheriff Ed Tom Bell hot on his trai...
At the time of writing this review, I can safely claim No Country for Old Men to be my favourite film. Granted, in my relatively short life I have not watched an incredible amount of films, but as of yet I have not come across one I love more. As far as the best film I have seen goes, it would be a toss-up between 12 Angry Men, The Godfather, 2001, and this, but I don’t really feel at liberty to decide.
So what makes it my favourite? Well, to start with, the tension here is some of the best ever put to film. I say this not because I have an extensive knowledge of all cinematic tension ever conceived, but because I find it hard to believe any scene could be as nerve-shredding as half the ones in No Country for Old Men. You can’t help but cower in fear at Chigurh’s shadow, which eclipses the crack of light beneath the door to Llewelyn’s motel room. You can’t help but pray for the life of the poor gas station owner during the coin toss scene. The Coens deliver a true masterclass here in holding on tension, letting it play out until it’s almost unbearable to watch, making you feel the same electrifying atmosphere the characters would when faced with their almost certain death.
Javier Bardem’s performance as Anton Chigurh is truly something to behold, well worthy of its Oscar. Never before has a villain seemed so heartless and cold, so horrifyingly relentless and menacing. The Argentinian offspring of Heath Ledger’s joker and The Terminator feels like an accurate description to me, insane yet understandable; incredibly powerful yet still vulnerable. The rest of the cast are also fantastic, especially Tommy Lee Jones as the weary and troubled sheriff, but their brilliance is drowned in the overarching menace that Bardem brings to the screen.
One of the best choices in production was to have absolutely no music throughout. The film would not have been the same with a high pitched string orchestra playing through the high-stakes scenes. The vast wilderness of Texas would have felt far less ominous and lonely with some plucky acoustic guitar and a maraca reminding us this film is in fact a western.
In terms of the flaws of the film, some could argue that the untimely death of Llewelyn isn’t formulaic enough for them, or the sheriff’s monologue and cut to black at the end was too hard to understand; I can see the point in these arguments, but all it takes is bit of thought, and the genius of it all comes to you. In life, we don’t get things when we think they’re going to come. Deaths are often unexpected and shocking, unlike most films, where you can smell a character dying from a mile off. And for the message of the final monologue, the message of the entire film, all you have to do is look at the title.
Overall, a nerve-wracking, thought-provoking experience that definitely leaves a lasting impression. The film is brilliantly directed, performed, shot, and everything in between, a true masterpiece in my opinion.
