The Road

For the best part of a year I have been waiting to read Cormac McCarthy's The Road. It's been sitting on my bookshelf while I waited for the film to be released, and while I got irritated every time the release date changed. I know from past experience that reading a book before seeing the film version guarantees several hours of frustration in the cinema. Watching a film without all that prior knowledge and strong images already in my head, however, often makes for a far more objective viewing experience.
I don't know (yet) how faithful John Hillcoat's version of The Road is to the written text but I would guess that the novel has considerably more explicit - and horribly memorable - violence (to this day, I remember passages from Blood Meridian that I'd much rather forget) Not that this is a drawback for the film. The hints and suggestions are more than enough to indicate the widespread cannibalism in this dying world. Imagination is always more effective at conjuring horrors and the mere sight of certain objects results in a sense of dread. Equally horrifying, but in a different way, are the sights and sounds of the planet's death throes. An ever-present rumbling dominates the soundtrack, while sudden fires break out, and most unnerving of all, trees suddenly crash to the ground, tearing their roots up as though the earth is rupturing from within. Against such forces, what hope can there be?
The film doesn't flinch from portraying this despair. Suicide haunts the movie, either as a physical reality or a terrible possibility. One of the Man's chief lessons for his son is how to use their gun to kill himself, though if necessary he will have to find the will to kill the boy himself. These scenes carry an enormous emotional heft as we understand the man's overwhelming love for his son. This relationship carries us through the narrative as they trudge through one of the most desolate landscapes seem on screen. This is a world without colour - even the sea is no longer blue. Browns and greys are everywhere, which makes the splashes of red even more shocking and indicative of the savagery prevalent among the survivors of this unnamed catastrophe. It's a dreadful world but what you remember is the relationship between the father and son. Viggo Mortensen's endlessly expressive eyes let the audience know everything he can't bring himself to say to the boy, and his gaunt frame and haunted face convince us that we are watching a dying man, one racing against time to pass on all he knows to his son. Haggard and desperate, he's resilient because he has to be. There's an unbearable sadness to the final scenes as the Man lies on the beach, waiting for the end. Even if it isn't ultimately as good as the book, it's still a tremendous film.