Texas, 1980. Out hunting antelope, Lewellyn Moss (Josh Brolin) stumbles upon the gory aftermath of a drug deal and decides to make off with the cash. The decision transforms his life into a nightmare of pursuit, as he is hunted across country by the local sheriff (Tommy Lee Jones) and remorseless assassin Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem). Adapted from the novel by Cormac McCarthy, No Country For Old Men is both a searing thriller and an elegy for a collapsing society.
Over the last few years, die-hard fans of the Coen brothers have worn out their pencils defending their increasingly mediocre output. While the sibling directors have never made a movie that’s actually bad, the mind-melting brilliance of Miller’s Crossing or The Big Lebowski seems like an awfully long time ago. Well, not any more. No Country For Old Men doesn’t require a defence: it is a magnificent return to form, transplanting the despairing nihilism and tar-black humour of Fargo to the arid plains of Blood Simple.
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