Lewellyn Moss (Josh Brolin) is no ordinary schlub who stumbles across a fortune while hunting antelope one day. He knows the bloody remains of a drug deal gone horribly awry when he sees it, and knows that someone will be looking for the truckload of heroin and the satchel of cash waiting to be claimed there, in the middle of the barren valley. He grabs the cash, a couple of firearms, and heads home after telling the lone survivor, who's barely hanging on for dear life, "No agua."

He hides the guns and the cash in his trailer, where his wife is full of questions about where he's been and what he's found. Later that night, Lewellyn remembers the thirsty dying man, fills a milk jug with water, and heads back to the site of the carnage. Once there, he finds that man dead---and spies a truck on the ridge that also spots him.

 

From there, Lewellyn's a man on the run, a poor but resourceful man who nonetheless has no idea how dark the path he has set upon will truly become. The man he learns that he's running from, Anton Chigurh (Javier Bardem), is beyond relentless in his will to retrieve everything than he is. Joining that chase is Sheriff Ed Tom Bell (Tommy Lee Jones), a small-county lawman close to retirement who is mystified by the apparent overkill Chigurh leaves in his wake. He's hardly alone in that regard. 

So the story that drives No Country for Old Men is simple enough: It's The Treasure of the Sierra Madre, turned over on its head and rid of its moralistic conceits, with a merciless new breed of trafficker on the loose (circa 1980, when the film is set)  in Bardem. Much of this seems familiar, and continues to even as the film's mood bounces between wry, desperate, and confounded.

After all, this is Joel and Ethan Coen we're talking about here, working faithfully from Cormac McCarthy's novel; you can chuck your expectations at the door, and be dazzled by as fine a film as you'll see this year and in many others besides.

The film opens with Jones' voiceover describing a 15-year-old he put away for murder; it ends with Jones, now retired for less than a day, recounting a dream from the night before in a distant voice. In between hovers a grievously violent tale that feels as old as the desert along the Rio Grande, where much of the action takes place. The violence in this film is very real, but it is depicted in its savagery, without romantic flourish; we cannot help but sympathize with Jones' Sheriff Bell as he struggles to understand the incomprehensible evil around him.

It's Chigurh who has the strictest (albeit self-referential) moral code, amid the greed that surrounds him. But in the face of the wickedness that starts this steamroller of violence toward its utterly ambiguous conclusion, even Chigurh's twisted standard seems both a product of and reaction to the barren world he dwells in.

What pushes No Country far beyond its familiar roots is the stunning genius with which Joel and Ethan Coen handle this material, and the assured performances of the entire cast. Brolin, Jones, and Bardem are all remarkable as they play out their hands in this triumvirate of pursuit. Expect awards all the way around, and be outraged if they don't pile up nominations, at least.

As great as the leads are, they're hardly alone. Kelly Macdonald (Emmy winner for Girl in the Cafe) is outstanding as Moss' hard-pressed wife, Carla Jean, and Beth Grant shines in her brief screen time as Carla Jean's mom, Agnes. Woody Harrelson has a strong cameo as a brash bounty hunter hired to put a stop to Chigurh and get the goods from Moss.

Best of all, the ironic detachment that sometimes trips up the Coens is completely abandoned here. There's no comfortable perch for looking down on anyone; even where there are dark, dark moments of comedy, the growing sense of dread swallows any sign of relief whole. Few films I've seen have taken so deep a draught from the well of sin's absolute destruction without spitting some of it out; No Country for Old Men savors the bitterness of greed, pride, and violence.

For all the gunfighting and cat-and-mouse, it's the odd moments that truly set No Country for Old Men on its own plane. Bardem, in particular, has some priceless moments of keen intensity in brief exchanges with store clerks as he hunts Moss. In one scene, Bardem's Chigurh -- fresh off multiple kills -- has a loaded conversation with unwitting, isolated gas station owner Gene Jones that is likely to become iconic source of quoted dialogue, particularly for Coen Brothers fans. Indeed, Bardem manages to stand out even in a cast this strong; his performance as Chigurh is one of the most harrowing turns of steely-eyed evil I can remember.

It would be criminal to neglect Roger Deakins' cinematography, which makes every old hotel hallway menacing, every broad arroyo more than desolate. Carter Burwell produces yet another outstanding score, as well.

Recalling the best elements of earlier Coen films (Blood Simple and Miller's Crossing in particular) along with touches from Fargo, No Country for Old Men more than redeems the brothers' reputation (which had slipped a bit, in my estimation, thanks to the subpar -- by their standards -- Intolerable Cruelty and The Ladykillers). It's the best film I've seen this year, by far. It's the best film the Coen Brothers have made (and that's saying something). And I'm straining to recall one of recent vintage I've seen that rivals it.
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