No Country For Old Men

Written at the time of the film's release...

Signs and Wonders

Llewelyn Moss is out on the Texas veldt tracking a caribou he shot, following the blood-trail when it is suddenly crossed by another blood-trail. Following it, he finds a drug-deal gone bad--five vehicles, and several dead Latinos, a truck-bed full of cocaine and eventually a satchel filled with stacks of of money, $10,000 to a stack. Fate is good to him.

Anton Chigurh is hunting, too. He needs a vehicle, and as he's driving a stolen police car, he can pull over anyone he chooses. He walks over to the driver side of the car, carrying a gas canister and a nozzle. "Get out of the vehicle," he says. And the driver complies. "Hold still, please, sir," he says, and the driver complies. He points the nozzle at the man's forehead and fires.

Sheriff Ed Tom Bell has been Sheriff of Terrell County since he was 26 years old, and that was a long time ago. You'd think he'd seen everything, but he's beginning to wonder if such a thing is possible. Looking over that drug deal gone bad while horse-back, he surmises the way things went down. "That's very linear, Sheriff," says his deputy. "Age'll flatten a man, Wendell," he not particularly replies.

The first time I'd heard of the Coen Brothers was a Time Magazine review of their first movie Blood Simple. When it wound up being featured at the Seattle Film Festival I went, expecting great things and their quirky ways of telling a story, like that travelling shot (by future director Barry Sonenfeld) that glided over a bar-top, rising up and over a fallen bar-fly. But what I wasn't expecting was a sequence that is one of my favorite in all of film, and is such an obvious thing to do, I wondered why nobody'd thought of it before. Ray has just murdered his lover's husband and stashed him in the back-seat of his car to take him someplace remote to bury him. But as he drives the long, flat Texas highway at night, the corpse behind him moans and moves. He slams on his brakes, pulls to the side of the road and runs...runs in a panic to get away, into a field. He runs into the dark until he stops, panting in fright and exertion. He stands there, looking back at the car. Now what? He's "safe." He got away. but he's no better off than he was before. He has to go back. And he especially has to go back before another car or truck approach and bathe the scene in light.

He has no idea what he'll find when he goes back there, but back he must go. It's the center of the Big Undecipherable that is the heart of the Coen brothers' movies--when people start to ask "how did I get here? And how do I come out, if I can't go back?" There's no going back to Square One with the Coen's. There is only the going-forward, head up or head bowed.

In its way, No Country for Old Men has bits of other Coen movies all over it. The "cat-and-mouse" games of Blood Simple. The airy philosophy of O Brother, Where Art Thou? The sharply written common dialog of all their films. The questioning law officer with philosophical questions of Fargo, the "what's it all worth" tragedy of Miller's Crossing, and Barton Fink. It stands as a good primer for all that is good in their work.

Is it their best work? The "Masterpiece" that it's been touted as? Hard to say. There seems to be a decided effort on their part to NOT make it that, to undercut the impact that the film could have had had they been more direct, hit things on the nose, as they say, rather than leaving things unsaid and perhaps confounding their audience. They've left room for interpretation and controversy, to make one think about the importance of dreams, of Fate and Destiny. One has to review the film that is, not the film that could've been. And No Country, as is, has some exquisite cinematography (by Roger Deakins--night shooting has never looked more convincing or as beautiful as here), note-perfect performances by just about everybody in the cast, but especially all the leads--not just Tommy Lee Jones, and Javier Bardem and Josh Brolin, but also Tess Harper (where's she been?), Woody Harrelson, Stephen Root, and Barry Corbin.

What makes No Country for Old Men different from the other Coen movies is a departure from the insular, claustrophobic worlds they have presented in the past. Before the films never strayed beyond the orbits of the main characters of their films--the surroundings filled with extras were there as filler. But this feels like a fuller world, a complete world, where every character has worth and life seems to be going on beyond the frame. That's new, and it will be interesting to see where this aspect of their film-making will take them.

It is not as fully realized a vision as Raising Arizona, or Fargo, or even The Big Lebowski. It is not as accessible as O Brother, Where Art Thou? But it far outshines such experiments in style as Barton Fink, The Hudsucker Proxy, The Man Who Wasn't There, or Intolerable Cruelty. No Country for Old Men is a stellar summing-up of where the Coen's have been, even if it doesn't quite rise above it. But the expanded universe of theirs—the more full world they present here—presages bigger and better films still to come.

 

In the Valley of Elah

There is a gesture...at the end of Spike Lee's Blackkklansman (review tomorrow, fingers crossed)...that some folks may not "get." The best display of it, thus, far was in Paul Haggis' In the Valley of Elah, the review of which, tepid as it is, is below. 

On the occasion of a nationwide calling out of the President's war on the Fourth Estate, I want to state my support for a free press willing to speak truth to power. Rather than being an "enemy of the people," it is, instead, an enemy to tyranny, in whatever guise it trumps itself up in, corporate, political, or religious, especially here at home. 

Written at the time of the film's release....

The Quagmire at Home

This is Paul Haggis' first directorial effort since Crash. In the meantime he wrote three films for Clint Eastwood, The Last Kiss and Casino Royale. He wrote this one for Eastwood, too, but to star in, not direct, which Clintus declined, saying that he's retired from acting. Too bad. This one might have gotten him that Best Actor Oscar. As it is, Tommy Lee Jones has the role, probably does a better job of it, and is certainly deserving of an Oscar. His Hank Deerfield, ex-Army investigator, is a portrait of a guy so meticulous, so disciplined that you wait for him to crack the whole film. It's one of the joys of the film, along with another of Charlize Theron's fine "de-glammed" performances, and Susan Sarandon bringing maximum effort to a small but vital role, all doing great work in a film that tries to be too many things, though it does succeed in many of them.

Part mystery, part war-story, part psychological drama, Elah, punctuates its story with fragments of media recovered from a cell-phone that, like Blow-Up and The Conversation, give tantalizingly legible glimpses into Deerfield's son's tour in Iraq, and frustratingly opaque clues into his post-Iraq behavior. He's gone AWOL, and Dad Deerfield goes to New Mexico to get to the bottom of it, because that's what he does. 

Once there, he and a detective try to piece together the evidence, and fight the bureaucratic red tape that hinders their work. Just as Crash owes so much to La Ronde, Elah calls to mind Courage Under Fire, about the death of a Persian Gulf War veteran, where conflicting stories and the subject of post-traumatic stress disorder are dealt with tangentially. Here, it's more overt, but there is an underlying message of the power of doing nothing, or of passing the buck, even ignoring the buck, taking the easy way out, or as the phrase went in Chinatown, the futility of good intentions, when not backed with action. The characters of In the Valley of Elah do "as little as possible" until provoked, challenged and threatened, and its reach is all-pervasive. In the end there is no one perpetrator, but a constant thread of sins of omission, and therein lies the tragedy.

As he did so much in Crash, Haggis telegraphs too many things, with some pretty obvious set-ups that are none too subtle.** The man just doesn't believe in red herrings, and everything gets used. Maybe that's his buttoned-up-in-25-minutes television writing showing. He's become better at cloaking some, though, hiding them in plain sight until they're trotted out for weighty significance. Some will see his final statement as un-American (which they're looking for, I expect), but a careful reading of what's gone before* reveals exactly what he's saying, and its entirely appropriate and, frankly, completely non-controversial. 

But Haggis seems to invite mis-interpretation. It's what makes him interesting. On top of that, you'll never see better work out of Tommy Lee Jones and Susan Sarandon and their scenes together have a lived-in familiarity and friction that speaks volumes of history and experience. There's some awfully good work in this.

* Easy for me to say, I take notes!

** According to the Addictionary, this is called "five-shadowing"

WarGames

You never know where these things show up. 

Over the Holidays, I was reading Garret M. Graff's intriguingly titled book "Raven Rock: The Story of the U.S. Government's Secret Plan to Save Itself While the Rest of Us Die", when a fascinating passage about a movie showed up. More about that after a look at the film that was mentioned.

WarGames (Martin Brest/John Badham 1983) Seattle high-schooler David Lightman (Matthew Broderick) is a bit of a video-game whiz. Not adept at regularly taking out the garbage, he is quite unique at tasks of a more idle nature. And dishonest. He manages to find his way into his high school's computer to change his grades and those of his friend, Jennifer Mack (Ally Sheedy). When he hears that a new version of a game that he's expert at is about to put on the market, he uses a phone algorithm to speed-dial through the permutations, but is blocked from getting into it by a firewall.

After some consultation with some game enthusiasts/hackers at the University of Washington, he learns of "back-doors" that can be used to get into databases. He's intrigued by one web-site but frustrated that he can't get through its firewall, but the program addresses him as "Dr. Falken," and he uses that nugget of information to do some research and come up with the right security password—"Joshua", the name of Falken's child (now deceased).

But, unbeknownst to him, he hasn't logged into a video-game web-site; he's logged into NORAD, one the nation's defense hubs, and gleefully starts to play a game called "Global Thermonuclear War."

It's no game. At NORAD headquarters, they see the launch simulation as an actual attack, as they don't know what the source is. A new program is underway at NORAD as there has been a noted reluctance on the part of personnel to launch attacks during drills* and director McKittrick (Dabney Coleman) has put the launch controls in the virtual hands of an automated system called the WOPR (War Operation Plan Response). That would be semi-okay if there was an actual launch detected instead of a kid playing around in his bedroom. But before any launch codes can be acquired, the attack is stopped...just like that.

But, the signal is traced back to the source. And, before you can say "you have the right to remain silent," David is arrested and charged with espionage. It seems the WOPR is still running simulations as it has made no differentiation between David's simulated game and an actual attack. Despite this, in a section that strains credulity a bit, given the security at any NORAD facility, David manages to escape the underground complex and, with Jennifer's help, enlists the aid of retired Professor Stephen Falken (John Wood), who is persuaded to come back to the NORAD facility in an attempt to circumvent a triggering of World War III.

It's a fun movie—the switch-over from Brest to Badham was to ensure that the film's touch was lighter than originally intended—but, there are still moments of genuine unease, as the automated systems still manage to continue cogitating, briskly running through possible launch code configurations and attack scenario's that bathe the elaborate NORAD set in an un-eathly light as the screens white-out with displays of nuclear annihilation (kudo's to John Rubinstein's score in that section). The "game"-plan to teach the system the difference between game-theory and "mutually assured destruction" is a bit of a stretch, but as long as the world doesn't blow up, you'll take any way out of it.

Now, a couple things. The first is the conception of Dr. Stephen Falken. The character was based on Stephen Hawking, and the cosmologist was approached to actually play the role while the script was being developed. He refused, because, at this point in his battle with ALS, he felt his appearance might be exploited. The next person the writers turned to was, of all people, John Lennon, who expressed interest in the role, but was assassinated in 1980. Imagine John Lennon in WarGames (I wonder if you can).

But, the most interesting thing about WarGames was its impact after its release. Co-writer Larry Lasker was a friend of President Ronald Reagan, and one night, Reagan settled down at Camp David for a screening of the film. The film affected him deeply, and returning to Washington, he began to make inquiries about hacking and whether what he saw in the film might actually occur. As the film was scrupulously researched with experts from the RAND Corporation and the Stanford Research Institute, he was assured that, yes, such a thing was possible, and not only that, probable. Reagan did two things: he began discussing the film with members of Congress, the Joint Chiefs, and others, leading to NSDD-145, a National Security Directive on securing government computers from cyber-attack.

He also changed his priorities about nuclear weapons. The first years of Reagan's presidency saw him cautioning about military weakness in the face of, what he termed, "The Evil Empire" of Soviet Russia, starting an massive escalation in the military budget. After WarGames, he turned his attention to negotiating with Soviet leaders about nuclear disarmament and reducing tensions (and targets) between the two countries. 

After WarGames. 

It is hard to say exactly what influence a "kid's movie" might have on national policy, but its message of "the only winning move is not to play" still resonates, albeit there are "some" who still hold to the idea that a thermonuclear war is "winnable."

They just haven't figured out who would be left to "declare" it.

* There is an opening scene depicting just that happenstance, and the two grunts locked in that conflict ("TURN your KEY, sir!") are portrayed by John Spencer and Michael Madsen.

** In my past life as a audio engineer, I had the opportunity to work with and get to know one of the actors in the film, Barry Corbin, who plays Gen. Jack Beringer. When I first met Corbin, I was a little skeptical of his huge cowboy hat and thick Texas drawl because I'd seen him in this film and the drawl wasn't there. I thought he might be putting on "cowboy airs." But, he was born in West Texas and he comes by it genuinely (He IS an actor, after all...). I also came to find him an extraordinarily talented and well-read, sophisticated gentleman (He did one of those things I love to see actors do—he had a script for a 60 second commercial that in his first run-through he did in 90 seconds, and then, without benefit of any editing, proceeded to do a second "take" that was precisely 60 seconds and just as nuanced, albeit rushed—he just wanted to see if he could actually do it!). He was working on the TV show "Northern Exposure" (which was filmed in the area) and he had frequent calls to do voice-over work, and I found him to be a fascinating, gifted individual. I asked him once why he chose to play Deputy Roscoe Brown, a very gullible and low-brow character in the mini-series "Lonesome Dove" and he said "You just want to be a part of something that special...any part." 

The Homesman

As Good a Man As Any Man
or
Pioneering on the Edge of Sanity

Three women (Grace Gummer, Miranda Otto, and Sonja Richter) have gone crazy living on the hard scrabble prairie of the Nebraska territory. They have left the comforts of home to scratch what little comfort they can at the edge of civilization...and sanity. One of the women is the wife of Vester Belknap (William Fichtner) and the local church led by Reverend Alfred Dowd (John Lithgow) offers help in the form of a shelter led by a brother minister, but Belknap will not take time away from his farm and daughters.

So, matronly Mary Bee Cuddy (Hilary Swank), unmarried and and old-maidish (in her 20's by the time's prejudices) and as capable as most of the men of the community volunteers and picks up a barred wagon to transport the women in a rolling asylum on a journey that is treacherous even under the best of conditions (as we understand Westerns, it's a wonder anybody made it out west before the establishment of Route 66) and the best of health. 

It is a daunting task—one that only the desperate would sign on to. Fortunately, she finds that desperate man. George Briggs (played by director Tommy Lee Jones) has been strung up for squatting in another settler's house (while that settler, who earlier rejected Mary Bee's proposition of marriage, goes back east to find a wife). Some local vigilantes have left him hanging, literally, sitting on his horse, leaving it to the horse to get hungry or bored, and by moving away, hanging the man. Mary Bee finds him and, realizing her superior bargaining position, secures his services in exchange for his life.

Over dinner, she tells him that his job will be as ferryman to a rolling asylum. Briggs soberly considers the proposition and refuses the offer. Mary Bee, reminding him of his previous working position as potential dead weight, tells him he is a man of low character and promises a salary. "Alright," Briggs reconsiders. "I'll help you tend to your cuckoo clocks."

Jones has made two features (apart from two films for television), both Westerns. This one is based on the novel by Glendon Swarthout, author of "The Shootist," and resurrector of obsolete verbiage (or more accurately, "nouniage"), and this one has the lean look of more recent Westerns (like Meek's Cutoff) that have been less concerned with civilization and nation-building, as with the spare nature and alone-ness of the settler experience. The plains are empty. The sky, big, and the cities—if you can call them that—are single-story clapboard sitting in the dust, ready to be blown away by a sizable gust. Settlers' homes run the gamut of building material—wood when available, or dug into a cliff-side if convenient. Mary Bee's is the most put-together, indicating her competency or her powers of persuasion.  She is determined to bring civilization with her, even if the territory proves unyielding.  But, once out of her house and on the trail, she begins to see that under the circumstances, civilization will break down, sometimes in horrifying way. And anyone is susceptible.

The residence of Mary Bee Cuddy

It's Swarthout's (and Jones') premise that everybody out West might be a little crazy—it's how they manage it that counts.  Even Mary Bee has a habit of rolling out a keyboard table placemat and playing it like a piano to her vocal accompaniment.  Briggs has his own issues with a jug that not even a sudden windfall can counteract, no matter how well he spiffs himself up.

How this relates to manifest destiny and the gravitation to a deity is subject to interpretation...or prejudices, but the gist is we've all got our skeletons rattling around in our closets and bats in our belfries and one can travel to the farthest reaches of sanity...but (to quote that other buckaroo..Banzai) "no matter where you go...there you are."