Movie Review: The Road

How does one envision the apocalypse? How do we contemplate the end of our world, the termination of our species as the dominant force on this planet? Artists, writers, filmmakers, theologians: all have given thoughts on this matter. It is a question that weighs heavily on our minds for fear of the inevitable. It is a prophecy waiting to be fulfilled. We know nothing of what the future will bring us, which means we are limited to the capabilities of our imagination. We foresee darkness and anticipate the decay of civilization, having nothing to rely on except our own instincts. This is the reality of Cormac McCarthy's The Road, a grim nightmare of a book that polarizes the mind and consumes the heart. McCarthy's meticulous attention to detail, along with his exquisite use of language, complements the relationship between his protagonists, the Man and the Boy. The reader hopes that both will survive and make it to the Coast because McCarthy's anarchic storyline coincides with the undying love the Man has for the Boy. Their relationship becomes the real driving force of the book, imbuing McCarthy's apocalyptic ode with a feeling of humanity and strong emotional impact. This is what is missing from John Hillcoat's film adaptation of The Road. While Hillcoat is able to capture the melancholy of McCarthy's dreary world, he is unable to echo the tenderness inherent in the relationship between the Man and the Boy. The audience is bombarded with several images of unbridled sorrow and destruction, all of which are meant to induce a cathartic experience tantamount to reading McCarthy's book. And while Viggo Mortensen is powerful in the role of the Man, the film as a whole breaks apart the seams of McCarthy's ambitious masterpiece and fails to elicit enough sympathy from the audience to live up to its lofty expectations.

Hillcoat's visceral approach to filmmaking is a perfect match visually for McCarthy's source material. His film The Proposition was a significant contribution to the Western genre because of its kinetic energy and sprightly devotion to the telling of a suspenseful story. And even though The Road dwindles and dawdles in understanding the psychology of its characters, there are times when the film appears strikingly beautiful. Hillcoat and cinematographer Javier Aguirresarobe paint the screen with dark and gray colors to emphasize a scorched Earth. The distant shots of burning buildings, the wide-angle shots of ruined cities, and the close interior shots of abandoned houses are all meant to emphasize the perennial self-destruction of mother nature. The production design mediates our interaction with the mise-en-scene of the film, selling us an environment of unwavering despondency and unquestionable anguish. It plays a vital role in establishing the tone of the film, allowing us to understand why the characters are driven to their most basic instincts. The makeup is essential in showing the decay of these characters, leaving behind noticeable scars of tragedy with layers of earth attached to their cheekbones. Their unnaturally rugged appearance gives substance to the nature of their horrific actions, which is to say they are doing what is necessary in order to survive. Hillcoat's vision of McCarthy's novel is that of a survivalist world inhabited by creatures who have lost their humanity. Their cannibalism, along with their lack of compassion for the sanctity of human life, is contrasted with the loving relationship between the Man and the Boy. Their relationship is the hope that the film rests upon, the illuminating light that casts away the darkening shadows of an irrational world. And it is in that reason alone why the visual look of the film, while impressive, is not allowed to supersede the importance of developing these two characters.

Yet that is the tragic misstep that Hillcoat takes with The Road. To paraphrase Robert Frost, Hillcoat took the road less traveled by, only it has not made all the difference. A brilliant performance by Viggo Mortensen is sacrificed in the name of auspicious visuals. Mortensen's performance is very internal, which is to say his emotions are depicted through his facial expressions. One can sense his love for the boy simply by the way he looks at him. Yet one can also sense his great fear and trepidation by his sternness with the boy, which is to say he is aware of the world around him and knows how dangerous it has become. This is contrasted with the flashback scenes between Mortensen and Charlize Theron, where we see happiness devolve into sadness and tremendous heartbreak. Mortensen dissects his character to a point where he is on the brink of hopelessness. The only speck of light for him exists in the heart of the Boy and Mortensen is keen on showing that for every moment he appears onscreen. Yet this is a film that relies heavily on its images to promote its shock value. And when you have a source material that is as profoundly layered as The Road, such a reliance compromises the audience's search for a deeper meaning among the protagonists. There are hints of this meaning scattered throughout the film, existing like larger pieces of a complex jigsaw puzzle. One scene in particular with Robert Duvall provides the audience with a glimpse of the complex emotions at play in this film. Duvall's portrayal of the Old Man is richly satisfying in that it allows the audience to understand how the only thing some of these characters have left is memories. They have the painful memories of a world long gone, a world that has changed for the ultimate worse and a world devoid of hope. One can understand just from the five minutes Duvall appears onscreen how nihilistic the world has become and how faith has taken a backseat to survival. There is no time for hope and faith. There is only, to quote the Bard, tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow. Yet Hillcoat appears less interested in the psychological ramifications of McCarthy's story than he is with giving us a suspenseful action thriller. How the Man saves the Boy takes a precedent over how the Man interacts with the Boy. Some may say the relationship between the two is interchangeable. Yet the real power of McCarthy's book exists in the quiet moments of contemplation and interplay. Quite frankly, there aren't enough of those moments in the film to make The Road a cinematic journey worth taking.

Lenny's Grade: C+