The usually reserved and hermit-like Cormac McCarthy has won nearly every major literary award possible, but he certainly had to be unbelievably thrilled to learn that he had taken home top “Scootie” honors in 2009 for his incredible work on “The Road." As an unabashed fan of McCarthy and the previous book-turned-movie of his I’d seen, “No Country for Old Men,” I was obviously eager to check out the cinematic version of the masterpiece that is “The Road.”
From the previews, it appeared that the woman, played by Charlize Theron, played a somewhat larger role in the film than she did in the book, and this was proven true in my viewing. Of course, if I had Charlize in my cast, I would feature her as often as possible, so no apologies there. Beyond that, the movie was about as closely tied and true to the book as is possible these days, a worthy representation and honoring of McCarthy’s beautiful novel.
As in the book, “The Road” is a movie of bleak intensity, heart-wrenching at times, brutal at others and thoughtful in still others. In a slight departure from McCarthy’s work, the man, played by Viggo Mortensen, is more emotional and less stoic in the flick. However, Mortensen does an admirable job, especially considering the fact that I had always considered him a rather limited actor. He was nearly universally lauded for this performance, earning some nominations for Best Actor from various outlets.
I also couldn’t help but notice that he sang a couple of the songs on the movie’s soundtrack, and went on to learn that he has done 14 albums; also sang on the “Lord of the Rings” soundtracks; dabbles in poetry, photography and painting; and speaks eight languages, including three fluently. To paraphrase Kramer on “Seinfeld,” apparently Viggo Mortensen is quite prolific. In “The Road” specifically, I felt he was at his best when he symbolically casted away his wife’s memory and, overall, I thought he honored the role of the man well.
Though the casting of Theron and especially Mortensen worked well, it was the choice to have youngster Kodi Smit-McPhee play the boy that paid off the biggest. He was selected because of his blend of youthful innocence and the perception of wisdom beyond his years, and I thought he was tremendous in the role. There were some scenes where his emotion came through with pitiful, heart-rending crying that had to come from somewhere deep inside him, and it was truly a jarring thing to witness. As the movie progressed, we follow the boy as he becomes aware and cognizant of his father’s growing sickness, and the resulting emotional breakdown that ensues. In the end, though, Smit-McPhee captures the true and pure face of innocence, serving as an essential link and an ideal way to conclude the tale.
As he is wont to do, Robert Duvall steals a couple of scenes with his portrayal of Eli, an old drifter who brings the innocence and the somewhat naïve belief in the goodness of people out of the boy. In a memorable exchange, the boy reaches for Eli’s hand as they walk, only to have the man admonish him not to hold his hand. It is Eli who introduces the idea of the boy as an angel, an opinion that the man does not disagree with and even espouses himself (“If I were god, I would have made the world just so and no different. And so I have you -- I have you.”). Yet Eli himself has given up hope in mankind as he waits to die:
“Whoever made humanity will find no humanity here. No, sir. No, sir. So beware … beware.”
The refutation of god and religion is a theme throughout the movie, in juxtaposition to the boy’s sensitivity and desire -- nay, need -- to believe in something to keep he and his father going. In several instances, the boy challenges the father to do the same, despite his growing sickness, the loss of his wife, the imminent danger to he and his son, and the overlaying difficulty of a lack of food, water and supplies. To his credit, the man seems to try to find something to cling to, as he finds color in a colorless world when he finds a cushion in the house he grew up in and when he discovers a piano and elicits a wrenching cry when he hears its music. All along, the man is learning from the boy just as much as the father is teaching the son.
Even when the duo finally experiences a stroke of good luck and the father wants so bad to have faith that it will keep, he eventually has to make the decision for them both to leave the haven and go on. In search of what? A hope, something intangible, something that keeps falling away as they get closer and closer to the coast.
“All I know is the child is my warrant and if he is not the word of God, then God never spoke.”
Two other themes that permeate the flick are the question of who is following who? and the reality (pun?) that you never know what is coming down the road: good or evil, opportunity or threat, life or death.
A few scenes (creepy house, falling trees, boardwalk, hiding in woods, beach robbery, self stapling) were almost unbelievable intense, so much credit goes to director John Hillcoat. Due to his disdain for CGI, Hillcoat ensured that the flick was filmed exclusively in real locations. The abandoned Pennsylvania Turnpike, post-Katrina New Orleans (there is irony involved in the coast of Louisiana literally looking like the movie, but I don’t have the energy to go there), Mount St. Helens in Washington and Oregon served as the primary backdrops for the film. Special effects director Mark Forker also did an incredible job, removing any remnant of greenery, sky or color from the world McCarthy created. In discussing directorial decisions, I do have to say that there was an odd moment at the end when some of the key characters were shown as having no thumbs, but it was never explained (a backwards nod to gang signs?).
Among the other memorable faces in this one were Guy Pearce, Michael K. Williams, two “Deadwood” stars (Garret Dillahunt and Molly Walker) and even a Coke cameo (nice advertising!). With such a strong cast in place, the flick’s braintrust delayed its debut more than a year to help push it as an Oscar contender. It didn’t reach that status, however, and one of the reasons could be that some reviewers thought the movie felt much more detached and less intimate than the book. In defense of the film, though, it can be extraordinarily difficult to convey that sense of connectivity and helplessness simultaneously on the screen. That task was handled better, in my mind, in the movie version of “Children of Men,” another book-turned-movie that shared a lot of similarities with “The Road.”
In the end, though, a great story is a great story, and few things can take away from it, even in the transition from page to screen. McCarthy’s genius remained largely untouched by Hillcoat, whether as a show of respect or an acknowledgement that fiddling with the tale would end poorly.
Either way, “The Road” is as essential a watch as it remains a read … and that in itself is an accomplishment to be applauded.
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