No Country for Old Men Review

It’s Saturday night, and it’s cinema time. This time around its time for No Country for Old Men, a new Coen Brothers movie. I have only seen one of their films before. It was Fargo, which was an okay black comedy and criminal drama. They have this ability to capture a scene and distil it. There’s a kind of weird vacuum after these movies, which continues after the credits roll. It’s no surprise the industry wants to bury these two guys alive with awards.

Taking my seat, the theatre quickly fills up and people become anxious for a seat. Right next to me, a couple take a seat. They looked strangely familiar. My God, is it them? Will I be interrupted again by oral faux pas? Have they noticed me? Sadly, for you, my show would not be interrupted by the unknown of uncomfortable blow-jobs. The couple soon left, never to return to these seats. The cinema continued to fill. I continued to eat popcorn trying to pick out various conversations. The couple’s empty seats were soon replaced by another couple which I assumed were a mother and son. Would my assumption be correct? God, I hope so. The lights dimmed.
No Country for Old Men is a story, that is really three different stories. It is the story of Sheriff Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), of small border-town, Texas, who has never carried a gun and resolved his quiet corner of the earth with good police work. The story of Llewellyn Moss (Josh Brolin), a Texas everyman, who stumbles on a terrible find, four pickups, a dozen dead gangsters, a truck full of dope and 2 million cash. He takes the cash. Then there is Anton Chigurgh, a sociopathic hitman, with a killer moptop ‘do, and an unusual philosophy of chance and fate.
Llewellyn’s find brings him more trouble than it’s worth with Anton hunting him down in a very tense game of cat and mouse, while Bell is attempting to save Llewellyn and restore order. The mechanics of this story are interesting, as neither Bell, Moss, or Chigurgh meet, even appear in the same frame. Each are shot, as if they exist in their own narrative. Interesting in that aspect. Or saves working around schedule conflicts. Not sure about that one yet.
Nevertheless, this is a story about fate and chance, which may appear to be separate at times, are at others intertwined so tightly, it’s hard to tell one from the other. However, the whole thing ended strangely, and left me feeling wanting more, that something definitive was missing. I drove home, the usual route only to remember it was Summernats, meaning it was the season for the people who pumped money into their vehicles. And tonight the streets were full of motorheads, neo-greasers, road-thuggees, hip-hop beats, dance-techno bass, 4 to 5 digit paint jobs, legality-pushing modifications and wide rims that shone in the street lights. Hell, even those bicycle hackers were around, with their own unique rides. With unique frames and lighting jobs, those things at night look more like luminescent sea creatures. I curse myself for a journalistic opportunity missed, but I had other things planned and sleep was necessary. And the couple that sat next to me in the cinema? Hey, what goes on in the theatre, from now, stays in the theatre.

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