I just got back from seeing the Cohen's Bro new movie - No Country for Old Men. I always think the Cohen bro movies are different from what they turn out to be. I had no idea what this one was about, what story would it tell, what was the style. I knew nothing, my mind was zen blank as the lights dimmed and the screen came to life.
A story unfurled. Wide beautiful shots of desert scrubland. A desert I didn't recognize. It was Texas. Some scenes reminded me of my desert trips, minus the dead bloated bodies and drug deals gone awry. (I did once dream of that life, in a country on a border far far from North America.) As the story continued, wide shots, spare dialog, characters that were not Hollywood beautiful, perfect, but interesting and a delight to look at, to watch unfold. Who was this like? What was this like? Fellini came to mind.
Scenes took place. Guns and mayhem, and surprise and ingenuity. And then there were post action come across the scenes, which reminded me of the Bashar and the last 4 chapters in Book 5 of the Dune Series. (I remember you Bashar. I remember you from that summer in Des Moines, when I was 19 and had not yet read Hyperion and learned of the Shrike. You are not just the Bashar Teg, but inspiration for other characters in stories, myths that I love.)
Until the final credits this was just another movie, until, until, I saw it was based on a Cormac McCarthy novel. Then everything fell into place. I should have know. The movie perfectly caught the difficulty, challenge and utter sensual delight of a Cormac McC novel. They are hard, rough, bitter fruits - nuanced and faceted. I went home and picked pages to read aloud from Blood Meridian. I remembered the story. I remembered who gave it to me. (Alfonso, your other name.) And I remember what I learned from that time. The love of the desert and compete and utter ruthlessness.
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