No Country For Old Men
No, I am not talking about the ubiquity of Harry Lee KY in the papers lately (even in the World News section for Chrissake!) but the new movie from the awesome Coen Bros.
Forget the The Simpsons Movie (Apu: "Look into your HEART, Mr Burns!") which was good but not great and DID have several flat spots in it, THIS is shaping up to be the movie for me this year.
In anticipation I grabbed the Cormac McCarthy novel yesterday and just flew through it. It is a brilliant understated overthetop violent work of poetry. Unputdownable, reading on train, in coffee shops, everywhere. I had some doubts about Mr McCarthy's creds previously, but they're gone now.
And if ever there was a book *destined* to be filmed by the Coen brothers, this is it. It has the essence of Blood Simple, Fargo, Raising Arizona, Barton Fink, Miller's Crossing all rolled into one Faulknerish, Sam Peckinpahish - damnit - Coenesque relentless motherfucker of a story. The dry, laconic wit, the extremes of simplicity (is it innocence or stupidity or down-home goodheartedness?), twisted honor, shocking violence and just raw emotional power with a moral punch to the gut...
I just can't wait...
This is going to be fucking brilliant...
OTHER MONKEYS SAID
i'm flying out to california next week! perfect for the trip, sugar! thanks
hello ordinary gwailo
what an unappealing title for a book
Sav: it's not for the squeamish though...
Angeline: OG is not me, a different Phil. He lives in HK, I live in Singapore. (Most bloggers are called Phil I have discovered.)
This title is a quote from WB Yeats poem "Sailing to Byzantium"
"That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees
--- Those dying generations --- at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium."
The title makes sense when you read the book, an ageing sherriff in a 1980 Texan border town is confronted by some horrific and soulless drug-related violence. He doesn't understand what is happening to the world that such people can exist in it... It is no longer a country for old men like him, there is nothing wisdom and exerience and a compassionate sense of right can bring to such senselessness...
i saw the words ordinary gwailo when i did a search for expat at large. clicking on the link brought me here.
Ange: welcome back. please hang around often.