No problem with 'No Country for Old Men'

The Coen brothers consistently make the best and most unique movies in all of Hollywood. Therefore, it should come as no surprise that 'No Country for Old Men' is easily one of the best movies of 2007, if it isn't already the number one choice for some.

The cat and mouse chase that ensues throughout the entire movie is gripping, leaving a very noticeable trail of blood. Llewelyn Moss (played by Josh Brolin) finds quite a bit of money when happens to come across the aftermath of a drug deal gone terribly wrong. However, Anton Chigurh (and the Oscar goes to...Javier Bardem) is hot on Moss' heels, attempting to get back the money and restore his own sense of twisted justice.

Tommy Lee Jones is Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, attempting to piece together everything that happens, but always happens to be a few steps behind. That is, of course, not his fault and he manages to work his own way right into the heart of the situation. It would seem that this movie has a typical ending in store, but the audience is certainly rewarded when the climax finally hits.

It's a simple story that never offers much in the way of character backgrounds and motivations. Instead, the film is content with letting the audience make its own assumptions about these people. After all, little else even needs to be known and every character's actions speak loud - about as loud as a sawed-off shotgun. The mystery surrounding a character like Anton will help make him a villain that resonates with moviegoers for a long time.

'No Country' is a film that will do well for itself during awards season, and is finding more of an audience as it continues to get released in more theaters. With brilliant acting and a deadly, but memorable, game of pursuit, it will soon find its way into highly-esteemed lists. For Joel and Ethan Coen, that is all fairly routine by now.

Here's another review of the movie that is most definitely worth checking out.

Getting to the library more often

Standing in line at the library with the one book I had finally decided on (The Best American Short Stories of 2006), I walked up to the clerk who dutifully followed procedure and took my library card. I had to dig it out of my wallet, considering I had not visited the library in months, with good reason of course. However, every once in a while, I get this deep separation anxiety from the place and this insatiable desire rushes over me until I actually get up and go.

"You have a small fine of one dollar," I was told, but that was it. I figured she would ask me if I wanted to pay it right then and there, but no - nothing. It was as if I could pay whenever I wanted, or never at all.

What's a dollar, I thought, so I paid it. But we both knew I didn't have to, making me the one with power. I told her, "I could take this book, never pick it up for months, return it whenever I damn well please, and all you could do was tell me I had a small fine. Ha-ha-ha! How does it feel to be so weak under my extreme power?"

Then I got on top of a table. "Attention library patrons," I said, "bow before me unless you desire an imminent, yet slow and painful, death!" Then I threw the book in the clerk's face and broke her nose.

I love the library.

What I do in class (rather than paying attention)

Tick…tick……tick………each passing second longer than the previous. Miserable, distant faces and half-shut eyes think of what might be going on beyond these walls during these two hours – the fun that could be had, the much-needed sleep. This is a brutal test of stamina, a chance to experience misery. Stephen Crane would be proud. A look around the room and it’s like a wax museum of college students; bodies that appear so life-like with nothing going on inside. Just a hollow existence. I pay thousands for this.

If Death were to interrupt the droning and request my presence, there is no way I could jump faster out of my seat.

“Take me with you, please!” I would say, on my knees, clutching to Death’s black robe. A cool wave of satisfaction would sweep over me as an eternally important hand reaches my shoulder, ending my existence.

“Turn to page 1050.”

Each one of us turns the thin slice of paper, not so we can read along or figure out some vague sense of meaning. We turn it to make sure we are still alive, still present in this boredom, only wishing a jolt of anything would wake us up in the comforts of something inviting, which at this point could be a bed of rusted nails.

If I am correct in my assumptions, and this truly is Hell in its highest form - I repent! I repent!