A Review of The Road

A few years ago, I began the journey of becoming a fiction reader. An English professor, Dr. James Potts (who would go on to be my adviser), sparked my interest in American literature. As I got to know Dr. Potts, I discovered that his dissertation focused on two huge American literary icons: William Faulkner and Cormac McCarthy. When it came time to sign up for classes, Dr. Potts didn't ask me to take his Faulkner course. He told me to enroll in it. I took the class. While the material was difficult, especially for a young reader like I was (and still am), I was blown away by Faulkner's characters, the devastation and heartbreak found in his fictional Yoknapatawpha County. Though Dr. Potts's passion for Faulkner was undeniable, he consistently referenced the author Cormac McCarthy, saying, "This guy switches between writing like Faulkner and Hemingway like you wouldn't believe." My interest was piqued.

I hate to say it, but I bought my copy of The Road from Wal-Mart. I suppose after Oprah hyped the novel, Wal-Mart figured they could make a few bucks off of it. Still, critics and authors had praised the work. Friends championed the book, saying it was magnificent. I'd been to the Kissimmee Social Tribe formal that weekend, and the backseat of the car had grown a bit dull. When I came across the novel at Wal-Mart of all places, I bought it. If you find gold in the trash heap, don't pass it by.

The first few lines carried a sadness with them I'd never encountered: "When he woke in the woods in the dark and the cold of night he'd reach out to touch the child sleeping beside him. Nights dark beyond darkness and the days more gray each one than what had gone before. Like the onset of some cold glaucoma dimming away the world." I read the book slowly, making it last. The pages "each one" more lovely and gripping "than what had gone before." What a story. The novel went on to win the Pulitzer Prize, and rumors of a film adaptation began circulating. With any great novel, a fear of how the story will translate on the big screen is always present. The Road was such a powerful and moving piece of literature. For the story to have been botched by Hollywood would be tragic.

The Coen Brothers certainly proved that with the right atmosphere and storytelling McCarthy's work can be powerful on film. No Country for Old Men blew me away, but could John Hillcoat (director) and Joe Penhall (writer) do The Road justice? I wasn't without skepticism, considering that Billy Bob Thornton's film version of McCarthy's All the Pretty Horses was pretty disgraceful. How would The Road fare in comparison to No Country for Old Men and All the Pretty Horses? I was fairly anxious to see the picture, especially after it was delayed twice from release in 2008. Like a lot of great movies, the picture did not come to Mississippi. My initial attempt to see the movie was thwarted due to flooding in New Orleans, and my prepaid tickets were wasted. However, thanks to a pretty awesome girl in my life, I was able to catch the movie in Memphis the next weekend.

For those unfamiliar with The Road's premise, it is a post-apocolyptic story involving a father and his little boy journeying across scorched America. How things have become so bleak we are never told. It doesn't matter. What matters is that humanity has been reduced to the most depraved and bare bones existence imaginable. The earth continues to die. Cannibalism runs rampant. Food is scarce at the very best. It is cold, "cold enough to crack rocks." All that spurs the father on is his love for his child; all that keeps the boy alive is his love for and trust in his father. Pretty bleak stuff to capture on screen, but Hillcoat did not fail. Not even a little, really.

For the most part, McCarthy's story is very much in tact. The grey, somber, and desperate imagery is dead on. You can always see the character's breath in front of their faces; everything is wet; the clothes are tattered and dirty; bones jut out from beneath each character's skin; scorched bodies hide in every crevice. This picture is haunting, but its ability to paint a bleak picture doesn't make the movie ugly to look at. It's quite beautiful.

The father and son travel south, doing their best to find the warmest place possible. They face cannibals, victims of cannibalism, those trying to survive as they are. They search for food, often coming across surprises like a can of Coca-Cola which the boy has never before tried. Here and there they can catch their breath, but they must always be wary, must always be on the run. The father carries a gun containing two bullets. "One for you and one for me," he tells his son. "We'll do it together." Suffering is so likely that they have a plan for suicide. Some of the most intense and suspenseful scenes involve their hectic decision to commit suicide or to try fleeing. It's gut-wrenching stuff.

The acting is superb. It isn't atypical for a child in a movie to overact or make it abundantly clear that they are beginners. The Boy is played by Kodi Smit-McPhee, a newbie to the screen and an excellent choice for the role, as he authenticates McCarthy's character. When the Father says about his son "If he is not the voice of God, God never spoke," we believe it. Viggo Mortensen is a pleasure to watch as the father. He embodies a desperate man attempting to survive against all odds. Their interaction is charming, and its easy to get attached to them. The same can be said for all supporting actors, including Robert Duvall and Guy Pearce (who makes a great appearance at the movie's end). I can't remember a weak moment.

The film differs from the novel in its description of the Father's marriage. Charlize Theron plays the Father's wife, who ends up leaving him and the boy behind to die alone in the cold. These scenes come as flashbacks, interrupting the narrative as dreams or recollections. Some critics have said that this causes the movie to be unstable as a narrative, switching back and forth between the present and the past. While these flashbacks are not present in the novel, I think it works for the movie. Had Penhall kept strictly to the novel, the movie would have been a long, hard, and painful slog: two full hours of trekking across dead America, searching for food, trying to survive. McCarthy gets away with it because his language is so gorgeous and the reader is free to put the book down when he or she needs a break. With the addition of the loss of the wife, however, the film maintains the same sense of urgency that the book does, without forcing the viewer to endure an entire two hours of sheer hopelessness. Perhaps the flashbacks are too numerous, but I'm not sure how the movie would have fared without them.

By the last scene I had tears in my eyes. The Road, as both a film and novel, has left me humbled and jealous. Few movies/stories break my heart like this one has. Few stories translate as beautifully as this one has on film. If filmmakers continue to do justice to McCarthy's novels the way the Coen Brothers and Hillcoat have, it's possible that these movie adaptations could become as important to me as his books have. McCarthy isn't for the faint of heart. Candidly, my body sort of ached after this movie was over. I have trouble recommending the movie based on its graphic nature. However, the acting is excellent, the imagery beautiful, and the story timeless. It'll be in my collection.