The Coen brothers names appeared on the black screen and I heard voices in the theater murmuring things like, “They took our money, man!” Or “What the hell?” I sat smiling in the dark loving the end, even though I wasn’t sure of the significance myself. I’ve found though, that if a piece of art puzzles the hell out of you, the reason(s) behind the art is usually intentional. The key in experiencing that intention is to dive in and discover for yourself. So, of course, I had to read the book. I had to see if I could find any insight into a story about a psychopathic, cold-blooded killer and a sheriff who was always about ten steps behind him.
Llewelyn Moss seemed like he was the protagonist, but really, I think it was Sheriff Bell. The fact that we, the common man, can relate to Llewelyn made him all the more endearing, but I believe he was a more of a supporting character in the overall theme of the movie/book . I don’t think he was a “good” guy. But he wasn’t a “bad” guy either. He was just a guy who made a split second decision that ultimately cost him his life, and the life of his wife. But I think he did if for himself and Carla Jean. To better their lives.
Sheriff Bell vs. Chigurh… Not necessarily good vs. evil. More like helpless vs. evil. The times they are a changin’ for the worse. That’s Bell’s perspective. Here’s a man who’s been through WWII. Who’s constantly questioning the worsening state of his country and his only conclusion is that there are no answers. There is no explanation for someone like Chigurh, who, like a ghost cannot be pinpointed or captured at any given time. He comes in, blows people’s faces off and then disintegrates onto the horizon. What’s the reason? There isn’t a good one. What’s the point then? No point.
“On my better days I think that there is somethin’ I don’t know or there is somethin’ that I’m leavin’ out. But them times are seldom. I wake up sometimes way in the night and I know as certain as death that there ain’t nothin’ short of the second comin’ of Christ that can slow this train. I don’t know what is the use of me layin’ awake over it. But I do.” (Sheriff Bell)
McCarthy uses Biblical themes throughout his book. They are bound up in the confusion of a man who finds himself helpless within the plummeting morality of his county. As evidenced in his concern over the narcotics trade, or Chigurh, or the kids with green hair and bones through their noses (McCarthy 304-305). He may, as I do, internalize the following questions: Is there evil in this world? Yes. Does that evil always get caught, tried, locked away? Nope. Does that evil multiply and branch out into more evil that manifests itself into the very safe pockets of our society? Yes. Is this something new to humanity? No. There is indeed nothing new under the sun.
So what is Bell trying to convey? What is the universal message here? What is the significance of the dream at the end…? The dream of his father, who he never mentioned throughout the whole movie or book. His father who wasn’t even a lawman, but a horse trainer. Who in the Sheriff’s dream rode ahead of him on horseback on a cold, dark night with “a fire in a horn the way they used to do” (McCarthy 309). And Bell just rode his horse watching his dad, who was in reality dead.
“And in the dream I knew that he was goin’ on ahead and that he was fixin’ to make a fire somewhere out there in all that dark and all that cold and I knew that whenever I got there he would be there. And then I woke up” (Sheriff Bell, McCarthy 309).
And we all wake up like that. Hints of the divine evaporating from our lonely quarters. And we feel the longing for it to stay. And are confused by what we feel at all. And we shake it off because it’s nothing tangible anyway. Just a glimmer of something hopeful that we can’t seem to keep around long enough to figure out.
“What was it that he had faith in? …I have to say that the only thing I can think is that there was some sort of promise in his heart. …I would like to be able to make that kind of promise. I think that’s what I would like most of all.” (Sheriff Bell, McCarthy 308).
A promise. Makes me think of the promise that I found once. A promise that if I trusted a man who walked this earth 2000 some-odd years ago, he would take me to that place where my longing will be subdued. Everything else is confusing and sad and frustrating. So I took his invisible hand and let him in. On a bad day, all I hang onto is that promise. On a good day, all the beauties and gifts of life uplift me. And he does his invisible divine work everywhere, everyday, in the meantime.
