the coen brothers' NO COUNTRY FOR OLD MEN (2007)

the Coen Brothers obviously seem to think they have something to prove with No Country For Old Men; its every step is as focused and mean as Javier Bardem's unforgettable Chigurh (who here gives Hannibal Lecter a run for his monstrous money), as if the Coens are apologizing for their recent slump with a middle finger and a shrug. in many ways it's a return to form, as airtight and flawless in its scripting and execution as the Coens' best, but despite debts to the relatively straightfaced pulp of Fargo and Blood Simple (plus an ending that loses a bit of solemnity when put alongside Raising Arizona's) they step pretty far outside their comfort zone, and even their audience's. the witty performance flourishes are there in subdued bit parts, and the Coens' sensibilities meld surprisingly with McCarthy's own nihilism, but much of No Country also seems uncharacteristically clinical where the rest of their films brake at giddy precision. it may well be that the brothers needed a comedic palate cleanser after the one-two stumble of Intolerable Cruelty and The (underrated) Ladykillers, and No Country For Old Men is certainly that, but even as it repeatedly assures their seat among the cinema's living masters, its pitch-black efficiency repels nearly as often as it provokes. No Country For Old Men is unfathomable in its raw quality, but the bleak misanthropy of nearly every frame leaves it distancing, as hard to like as it is to disrespect.