The Coen brothers have made a career of genre bending and homages to old Hollywood. They have made six noirs, three westerns, a retelling of the Book of Job, an homage (borderline parody) of Frank Capra comedies, two of the most quotable movies ever made (The Big Lebowski and O Brother, Where Art Thou?), and a movie where Nicolas Cage steals a baby and robs a convenience store with pantyhose on his head. “Eclectic” doesn’t even begin to describe them. Though they have elements of genre filmmaking across their entire filmography, the one example that is equal parts noir and western, is their critically lauded masterpiece, No Country for Old Men, an adaptation of the novel by Cormac McCarthy. As I said in my review of Fargo, the Coens frequently play with the Yiddish concept of the schlemiel. However, whether it’s because the film has source material or just the serious nature of the film, this film has no schlemiel (though it could be argued that Llewelyn Moss is one for taking the drug money).

Llewelyn Moss (Josh Brolin) stumbles across the results of a bad drug deal and finds two million dollars in a briefcase. Feeling his luck has changed, Moss takes the money home, but little does he know that Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), a ruthless and nihilistic assassin is hot on his trail and leaving bodies in his wake (depending on how they call a coin toss). Meanwhile, Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones) is following after Chigurh, and investigating Chigurh’s break-in at Moss’s house. Moss finds a tracking device in the briefcase, but as he goes to get rid of it, realizes that it’s too late. Chigurh has found him. It’s an intense game of cat-and-mouse that is sure to end up terribly for all parties involved.

No Country for Old Men is the very definition of “sparse”. The West Texas landscape is vast and void. There is minimal amounts of dialogue throughout the whole film and practically none during the tense chase scenes which make up a big chunk of the movie. Josh Brolin even commented on the lack of dialogue and how hard it was for him as an actor to emote on screen without the assistance of words. The most interesting part of the film, however, is the significant lack of score. There is virtually no music until the end credits, and even when there is music in the background, it’s drastically muted. It makes the sounds that are heard in the film that much more singled out and loud. It builds the tension considerably, like during a scene where Llewelyn is listening for Anton Chigurh’s footsteps outside his motel door. Each step carries with it so much weight because it and Llewelyn’s breathing are all you can hear. What No Country for Old Men does better than most thrillers is captivate its audience. That, and staying true to its source material. The movie is almost exactly like Cormac McCarthy’s novel. Nothing is added and very little is removed. It’s simply condensed. McCarthy’s themes of fate and the presence of evil are front and center, as well as right in the Coen’s wheelhouse.

Bonus Review: Miller’s Crossing

Miller’s Crossing is set during the Prohibition era. Tom Reagan (Gabriel Byrne) is the right-hand man for crime boss, Leo O’Bannon (Albert Finney). Oh, and he’s also sleeping with O’Bannon’s girlfriend, Verna (Marcia Gay Harden). When this news arrives to O’Bannon’s ears courtesy of Tom’s own mouth, Tom is understandably beaten and kicked out of O’Bannon’s outfit. Tom then turns his attention to O’Bannon’s rival, Johnny Caspar (Jon Polito), who demands Tom kill Bernie (John Turturro), Verna’s brother, as a sign of good faith. When Tom looks into his heart and spares Bernie, his act of mercy comes back to bite him big time.

The Coen brothers’ Miller’s Crossing is another fine example of their ability to twist and combine genres. Where No Country for Old Men is a western/noir hybrid, Miller’s Crossing is a noir twist on the gangster genre. In fact, the movie is bookended by an homage to each. The beginning of the film, in Leo’s office, is a sendup to the opening of The Godfather, while the funeral scene at the end is a nod to the ending of The Third Man. Bookending the bookends is a repeated shot of a hat, blowing through the wind along the ground, which is likely a reference to the film, Le Doulos, a French crime film that ends with a hat falling into the frame on the forest floor as its owner, Silien, falls down dead. There’s a sense of futility that arises from witnessing a hat floating on the wind, with no one in proximity to grab it. I suspect from how they treat their characters throughout their films, the Coen brothers view the lives of their characters in much the same way we view the hat. It comes into view for a bit and then is carried away by the lightest breeze.