Actors build 'Old Men' into a brilliant film

Film Review: "No Country For Old Men" (A)

I've never paid much attention to Josh Brolin. I always thought of him as a marginal talent feeding off his father's fame, sort of like Lorenzo Lamas.

Then I saw "American Gangster" and was surprised at how forcibly he registered in a few short scenes as a corrupt New York City detective sporting a sinister scowl and even more sinister mustache. He was great. And now he's even better, giving an Oscar-worthy performance is "No Country for Old Men."

This dude can act.

As terrific as he is, playing a trailer-park schnook on a run for his life after playing finders-keepers with a satchel containing $2 million in cash, Brolin isn't even the best actor in the movie. He's not even the runner-up.

Those spots go to Tommy Lee Jones and Javier Bardem, both even more mesmerizing than usual as Texans on opposite sides of the law and the opposite sides of a sea change in a way of life.

They form the fissured heart of Joel and Ethan Coen's brilliant adaptation of Cormac McCarthy's prize-winning novel about the borders between nations, eras and men's souls. A finer film, you will not see this year.

It has everything, from biblical themes of good vs. evil to ruminations on karma, fate and chance. But it's the way the Coens fold these esoteric musings into a standard chase film that reek of genius.

It couldn't have come at a more opportune time for the brothers, either, following arguably the two worst films of their career in "The Ladykillers" and the aptly named "Intolerable Cruelty."

Both were broad comedies that were a radical departure from their forte of crafting dark, subtle humor out of human foibles, as was the case with their two masterpieces, "Fargo" and "Blood Simple."

"No Country for Old Men" finds them back in suspense mode, combining elements of both pictures into something familiar yet so utterly unique it's practically beyond explanation. Like McCarthy's novel, it's a story that envelops you, luring you deeper and deeper into characters driven by a sense of duty, no matter if that means killing people, a la Bardem's assassin in a Prince Valiant haircut, or protecting them, a la Jones' wise old Texas lawman.

Both keep you riveted, as does Brolin as the resourceful rube they're chasing for wildly divergent reasons. Will they catch him? If so, who will get there first? And is Brolin's Llewelyn Moss just dumb and naïve enough to think he can elude them?

Those are among the many questions the Coens raise, as they keep you guessing about where the story is headed next. It's thrilling to behold, especially when you consider the whole thing is built around a standard plot in which a regular guy, albeit one as handsome as Brolin, goes hunting in the West Texas desert, comes across the bloody remains of a drug deal gone bad and finds a bag filled with more money than he and his beloved wife Carla Jean (Scot Kelly Macdonald nailing the Texas accent) could ever need.

Like the equally delicious "A Simple Plan," Llewelyn grabs the cash knowing, but not really considering the consequences of his actions. And those consequences are Bardem's ruthless killer Anton Chigurh, a man so evil he'd make Hannibal Lector shake in his body harness. It doesn't take him long to figure out who has the money, setting the stage for a terrific cat-and-mouse game between Llewelyn, Chigurh and the town's wise old bloodhound of a sheriff, played by Jones.

Woody Harrelson eventually joins in the pursuit, too, playing a private detective hired by the money's rightful owner, an unscrupulous businessman played by Steve Root. Toss in a nasty pit bull, a crazy old uncle (Barry Corbin) and enough clueless counter jockies to stock eight Kevin Smith movies and you're talking one helluva good time.

The great Roger Deakins, serving as the Coens' director of photography for a ninth time, captures it all in a rapturous mix of stark open spaces and tight gaudy interiors, mostly flea-bag motel rooms that almost become characters in themselves.

It's in these run-down dens of inequity where some of the most thrilling scenes take place, as the Coens tap into their inner-Hitchcocks to create suspense out of something so simple as a ringing telephone.

If there were a flaw, it would be the ending, which may be construed as a bit pretentious by some, especially when you're expecting it to end with more of a bang. But a big, loud shootout would be a horrible efface to a film that's all about subtlety and reading between the lines.

It's an ambiguity that leaves the story wide open to interpretation. Why, for example, does Chigurh off his many victims with a pneumatic punch instead of a gun? And why does Jones' sheriff still investigate crime scenes on horseback? And why do these two desperate traits dovetail together so well?

The beauty of "No Country for Old Men" is trying to figure it all out. And the more you jostle its ideas in your head, the more you love everything about it. It's in a word, spectacular.

"No Country for Old Men" is rated R for strong graphic violence and some language.