Oscars for No Country for Old Men

Although many people admired No Country for Old Men, some were repulsed by its nihilism and violence, and quite baffled when the film captured four Oscars (best picture, director, actor in a leading role, and screenplay based on material previously produced or published). To be sure, Joel and Ethan Coen, who wrote, directed, and edited the film based on a novel by Cormac McCarthy, have rarely lingered over sunny aspects of human existence. Nonetheless, No Country’s gore seems especially relentless, unrelieved as it is by either comic or heart-warming turns such as somewhat soften, brighten and humanize Fargo (1996)--another tale of mad violence, and the sole other Coens’ film to garner Oscars (best screenplay written directly for the screen and best actress in a leading role). Indeed, No Country’s relatively uniform style and tone set it apart from most of the Coens’ oeuvre. One might even argue that surprising shifts of tone and generic allusion in Romance and Cigarettes (2005), a film executive-produced by the Coens but written and directed by John Turturro, are more Coens-like than the path charted in No Country.

Errol Morris is another director who has won recognition at the Academy Awards for a film that is uncharacteristic of his work as a whole. Morris’s The Fog of War, which received the Oscar for best documentary in 2003 and the companion book subsequently published by Rowman & Littlefield in 2005, is more linear and conventional in its imagery, picture-sound relationships, and other aspects of form than earlier, more experimental films by Morris. The insertion of staged scenes in The Thin Blue Line, along with apparently whimsical optical and aural effects as in later films by Morris, provoked the Academy Awards committee to disqualify it from documentary competition. Alert to such doubts as to whether Morris’s films were truly documentaries, Roger Ebert wrote admiringly when The Thin Blue Line appeared, “Although he makes documentaries, Morris is much more interested in the spaces between the facts than with the facts themselves.”

To return to the Coens, though, if in forgoing in No Country the playful shifts of tone and generic allusion that distinguish much of their earlier work, including O Brother, Where Art Thou? (2000) as well as Fargo, they retreat from experimentation, Javier Bardem’s performance of the horrific villain Anton Chigurh in No Country possibly represents a new perception on their part, while he offers perverse compensation to the film spectator deprived of playful generic turns. Anton Chigurh is not merely a killer such as appears in other films by the Coens, or in Westerns by other filmmakers. Rather, as he keeps re-emerging abruptly, magically, a ubiquitous, wounded figure of destruction relatively free of bodily constraint as well as reason, he represents an evil spirit overtaking the world--or at least the Southwest, where the action occurs. If one accepts the notion that films reflect broad concerns of the society in which they arise as well as of the filmmaker, it’s not inconceivable that this new film bedecked with Oscars points to an unusual surge of pessimism and foreboding in the American psyche.

Ira Jaffe is professor emeritus and former chair of the Department of Media Arts at the University of New Mexico. He is the author of Hollywood Hybrids: Mixing Genres in Contemporary Films.