Bleak. Unremittingly bleak. An unsurprising choice of words, perhaps, to describe the new adaptation of author Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer-scooping prose novel of 2006, but also the most accurate. Set in the blasted terrain of a post-apocalyptic America where organic life has all but shut down, it details the agonising struggle southward of two survivors, a man and his son, as they encounter the horrors of a world unanchored by morality. Death haunts practically every frame of the film’s running time, every twist in the road reveals further hardship, and whatever glimmers of hope there are to be had regarding humanity’s future are modest at best, like the last flare of
light from the sail of a boat on the horizon before it glides out of view forever.
“McCarthy’s biblically-inflected and brutally poetic prose is reduced to the occasional stretch of voice-over”
At this point, I imagine a sizeable percentage of you are wondering why on earth someone would wilfully endure such a film. The Road is definitely an acquired taste, much like its source material, which appalled some with its harrowing subject matter, but seared itself onto the memories of many others who were captivated by McCarthy’s biblically-inflected and brutally poetic prose. The film version unfortunately never overcomes the inevitable loss of the terrible beauty of McCarthy’s language, reduced to the occasional stretch of voice-over lifted directly from the text, but that doesn’t stop it being a considerable, if lesser, achievement in its own right.
Those who like their movies downbeat ought to find much to admire: for a director having to contend with the difficulty of adapting a book whose appeal lies mainly in the way it is written, rather than its plot, John Hillcoat does an admirable job. The artful use of flashback sequences to the Man’s dead wife, rather than being obtrusive, lend the film a lyrical edge, evoking the sense of loss and yearning central to the plot. It is in the capturing of the plot’s darkest moments that he excels: during a visit to a secluded mansion, for instance, where something very nasty is discovered in the basement – a scene far more disquieting than anything I’ve seen in a straightforward horror movie in years.
“Mortensen’s understated masterclass quietly cements his reputation as one of our finest contemporary actors”
The most dramatically potent scenes, such as the one aforementioned, prove to be those where the Man feels pushed to compromise his own humanity, and besides the suspenseful direction, much of their impact can be attributed to the deeply affecting performance of Viggo Mortensen in the lead role. Building on the successes of A History Of Violence and Eastern Promises, Mortensen here again demonstrates himself to be an actor capable of real diversity and stature. In portraying a father and bereaved husband steadfastly refusing to abandon himself and his son to despair, whilst slowly fracturing under the daily pressures of their predicament, he is heartbreakingly genuine. In fact, with this understated masterclass he has quietly cemented his reputation as one of our finest contemporary actors, and its quality is perhaps the feature to preserve the film from fading to a commendable footnote to the novel.
It is a shame then that a film as cinematically accomplished as The Road ultimately stands so much in the towering shadow of its parent, largely adhering to the minimal narrative of the text, without the distinct identity that the Coen brothers brought to their own terrific adaptation of McCarthy’s No Country For Old Men in the form of gallows humour. Those who were left cold by the book will find nothing for them here, and those who fell in love with it, while unable to greatly fault a production that is uncompromisingly faithful to its tone and themes, are unlikely to find it carries quite the same weight. Despite this, the skill of its translation from page to screen warrants a viewing by anyone after an apocalypse movie with substance and soul.
4 stars
