NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN. Hands down masterpiece

So much for the introduction. And straight from the bat, I’ll say something after which you don’t need to read further – No Country for Old Men is a masterpiece. Yes, it is one of those films – intelligent, superbly executed, and originally told. In short – excellent. Those of you who have seen the film probably do not consider such a thesis controversial; indeed, a significant portion of the audience is genuinely delighted, and this admiration is not just another conformist celluloid euphoria. Those who haven’t seen the Coen brothers’ film, don’t read any further. You probably won’t believe the sincerity of the pompous words above anyway. It’s better to watch with an open mind, spend a little longer in your chair, take a deep breath, and remain with a few thoughts that will undoubtedly come to mind immediately after the screening.

The story of No Country for Old Men is simple – a man finds a suitcase stuffed with American dead presidents. A murderer is on the trail of the unfortunate man who has appropriated the money. On the trail of both of them is the sheriff. The narrative is perfectly cohesive at every moment, which means no less and no more than that the Coen brothers, using familiar schemes, have created a perfect thriller that can be placed on the shelf alongside the works of Hitchcock, The Third Man, Chinatown, The Silence of the Lambs, Seven, and several other undisputed masterpieces of spine-chilling cinema. I won’t attempt to define masterpieces further, as any hastily drawn theory would too often clash with my taste (and it is not tainted by objectivity). In any case, a masterpiece of the genre does not have to be exemplary in terms of genre – it should evade clichés, easy stereotypes, shortcuts, and conventions. The creator of a masterpiece initially treads into areas well-known to the viewer, then turns a few elements upside down and proposes an entirely new form of entertainment within the appropriate convention.

The Coens take advantage of a similar kind of disorientation by presenting an ordinary guy living in a trailer (superbly portrayed by Josh Brolin), a psychopathic killer (BRILLIANTLY portrayed by Javier Bardem), and a sheriff on the brink of retirement (brilliantly portrayed by Tommy Lee Jones). That is, clichés seen hundreds of times. The camera monotonously remains in place and follows the characters who play specific roles – good, bad, ugly. One, in fear, flees with stolen money; the other ruthlessly destroys everything living in his path; the third conducts an investigation into a case that seems to be subject to the age-old law that justice will catch the guilty.

In addition to the standard characterization, the Coens add something extra – ordinariness. The filmic reality is stripped of stereotypical fiction in several ways, each of which demonstrates the uniqueness of No Country for Old Men. The most noticeable is the complete lack of music. The tempo is set by footsteps, breaths, gunshots, the release of compressed air, drops of sweat falling to the ground, and a silence that enhances the severity of the provincial landscape. Each action takes on an entirely new flavor because the Coens diminish – with such a simple move – the importance of the conventional world of cinema.

Furthermore, the characters themselves flee from fiction. We do not know their motivations, we do not know how they justify the decisions they make. Freudian glasses through which one can freely peer into their souls are useless. There is no point in dissecting feelings because the Coens do not invite the audience to film seminars on amateur psychology. The characters do not talk to themselves, and human interaction is limited to the bare minimum, from which nothing significant arises. There is no doubt that these are film characters, but nevertheless, they stand very close to the unattractive reality, the mentioned ordinariness, in which there is no place for artificially created worlds of imagination.

Such emotionally ascetic atmosphere makes the Coens ponder. Philosophize. Think. Although it sounds pretentious, the Coens leave popular banalities far behind. Their definition of wisdom does not boil down to loudly uttering words starting with a capital letter – with only a few words, they want to talk about important matters. Like the Narrator from the prologue – an old cowboy nostalgically recalling the old days and simple rules that apply to all people. The Coens do not rush the viewer; they allow for attentive listening to ordinary words. Roger Deakins’ camera shyly looks into the eyes of the characters, timidly observes their emotions, the sudden nervousness. The Coens do not add in many moments – they remain silent where it is unnecessary to speak, show, explain. Here, thoughtful execution of No Country for Old Men masterfully complements unusual content, which leads to a deeper than usual reflection.

A thief, a killer, and a sheriff live in a world where nothing is entirely certain, familiar, safe, although they build their world from such predictable building blocks. The Narrator of the tale knows that he knows nothing. No one knows when they will find fortune. No one knows when they will die. No one knows when that moment will come when one must admit to oneself that one’s own fate usually does not depend on one’s own will. Even humility, kindness, adherence to principles, and patience – if they become a life guide – will not necessarily lead to knowing. Simply put – to know. It is difficult to speak of some overriding principle governing fate – God? Devil? Chance? Time? The unease caused by the lack of answers and the impossibility of preempting fate usually does not concern anyone. Why unnecessarily choke on existential bitter pills?

However, some, like the sheriff, will take off their hat, swallow their saliva, look you straight in the eye, and consciously admit, “Okay, I’ll be a part of this world.” Although it is no longer a country for those like him.

No Country for Old Men is outstanding cinema!