Every time someone got killed on screen, a woman behind me in the movie theatre would exclaim “Jesus Christ!” Suffice to say, it began to sound like a Pentecostal revival meeting.
I knew the extreme violence in No Country for Old Men wouldn’t be a typical sort of brainless, desensitizing cinematic carnage. After all, this is the Coen brothers. Nothing is gratuitous. Everything is pervasive, inescapable, and thus haunting.
Jesus Christ!
This movie gripped me, physically. I couldn’t move or, frequently, breath. The crowded theatre would collectively recoil with horror. There are also hilarious moments, if you can relax enough to chuckle.
This movie is still gripping me, mentally. It’ll continue to grip me for quite some time. I haven’t felt this personally affected by a film since, weirdly enough, the Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room documentary in 2005. I guess stark-raving evil makes an impression on me.
Jesus Christ!
