The Nature of Goodness in 'No Country For Old Men'

I went to see No Country for Old Men yesterday with Steve Libby of Subatomic Press. Generally, I don't go to movies in the theater, but Steve and I decided that if we talked scripts, and went at noon, it would all be, uh, tax deductible…

The day started kind of weirdly to begin with because I've been writing my ass off on my new book of letters (not my novel, a different project). And I got a fucking rough draft (!). Which makes it my fifth book, weirdly enough. Anyway, writing 50 or so pages in a couple of days make one feel completely otherworldly. Or, it makes ME feel completely otherworldly. Who knows about the rest of the world?

In this state, I have awkward conversations with people starting with things like, "Over the course of my life, I always wanted to be Jesus, but I think I'm growing out of it." In response to questions like, "What do you want on your toast?"

Awkward. Really awkward. Like anyone wants to hear anything that starts: “Over the course of my life…”

Then you can't take it back and the words and words and words starts swirling and spiraling and shit - there's a whole hidden chapter you never saw before but have to WRITE DOWN NOW THIS VERY SECOND about spreading Jesus on toast.

Wow. Professionally digressing again.

I wanted to see No Country for Old Men because:
a. It’s a Coen Brothers movie, and
b. I heard it was sickeningly violent.

Not sure why that was such an enticing line, but damn, it was!

I had to get myself all sort of bolstered up to be able to stand the carnage and expected to be shivering to myself, and holding my own hand.

The theater was packed. On a fucking Friday at noon? A lot of people must geek out on violence, thought I.

No Country For Old Men was a terrific flick. I'm debating what to say in particular, because I don't mean this to be a spoiler, but the film had a POV switch that actually sort of challenged me. I had to really think about why it was used and since I haven't read the book, had to guess whether or not it was a Coen invention (I think not). Hmm. Enough on that, hard to continue w/o plot giveaways.

The more striking debate for me in the film, was the ongoing question of the morality of 'right'. This is the point of this blog if you managed to get this far... Now ya know!

As per my last blog entry, I'm seeking to find clues of our political environment in the contemporary art around us. Yes, mostly in my PDX happy-land, but I'm cool with thinking national for a few minutes.

The discussion of what was 'right' popped up over and over in the film. All of our protagonists (there were several) were morally twisted by their insecurity about what choice was the 'morally right' choice.

The utter lack of ‘good’ options (i.e. where the outcome of the situation was completely positive) made them feel like moral failures. The anguish of moral ambiguity was expressed with astounding grace.

This distinctly contrasted with the views of the utterly creepy villain with the 70’s porn star hair, who steadfastly maintained his 'goodness'. His 'goodness' lay in the purity of his purpose and word. If he said he was going to kill someone, he'd kill them. Don’t matter none hoss, if the killing was no longer necessary, or if the killing wouldn't benefit him financially, or even if the killing put him in actual danger. It was a contractual obligation that translated for him into a moral obligation.

I realize that this book was written a while ago, but I maintain that the effect of the presence of our ever-unique atmospheric soup, i.e. media, pop culture, politics, environment, and war, brought this film into being. It's not like the Coen’s couldn't have chosen or written another story, fer crying out loud.

The film could have been about a villain who was simply draconian, but the insistence of his moral superiority over the course of the two hours, was probably the absolutely best fucking metaphor I have ever heard about our administration’s stance on, well, everything.

I continued this conversation with Todd Cobb (author of Ghosts of Portland). When did ‘good’ start meaning this? How have we as a country been sidetracked into an argument about moral superiority based on a platform of psychotic inflexibility?

The beautiful and encouraging aspect of this film was the gentle reminder (yes, gentle, if you can believe it), that good people always question their own motives in difficult situations. They always wonder if they could have made a different choice. They always wonder if they could have made a better choice. Good people do not believe in the impunity of their goodness.

XOXO

- JB