Saturday, November 17, 2007

No Country for Old Men: A Coen Brothers film.

Well now. we all saw it. No denials or backtracking or yip-hawin': this film is it. The first film of the current age. This is sort of the Bloodsimple of the new cycle. The I Ching of this most-fascinating period in our Human history: the end.

Right? Is this American society not the Rudolph's Nose-obvious "red flag" of excess? We have culture to a level of Meta-God. For every amazing piece of art you see, and fall in love with, and show me, I can show you a powerful sign of the obnoxiousness of our species. A perfect example of why we are worth saving, and why we aren't. Right now, we may be witnessing the height of the loudest race in the universe. Or, who knows, maybe we'll stick around while we spiral down into a hell of our own design: see how many beautiful things we can take out with us.

Film is a very powerful attempt at focusing on ourselves. It's inherently very narcissistic, or--if you must--masterbatorial, but in all that, there emerges some of the most beautiful selflessnesses we can embody. We are affected by film (and, perhaps art) to the same degree that it knocks us on our asses with how flawed we are. ...And freaking wonderful we are. In that moment of vertigo our chests feel at the exact heart of a film, it somehow manages to be both selfless and self-centered.

the coroner told tommy lee jones that old men like he and the sheriff are only the latest in a continual change in society: the eldest looking back on their own youths, and deciding that the present is rougher than the past. Basically, post-modernism is "what's coming to you."--like the crazy killer is what's coming for the hero. (And most everyone else.)

Thank god for Stephen Root. Meanwhile, what is up with the mother? She is pure cartoon non-character. Confusing.

Barry Corbin, you are my favorite ever. Truly.

Anyway, beautifully filmed; shots like perfect paintings; writing thats shocking even while comforting, a structure that punches structure in the face, then cradles it and weeps, while it dies. Javier is playing the place the Coens see themselves ending up--tragically. Like all of the rest of us.

extra points for not knowing the number of floors in the building. Is that counting the Mezzanine?

=max

P.S.: perhaps Ebert says it says it best.

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