The Road (2009)

It’s the end of the world as we know it, but we do not feel fine, at least according to the current trend of apocalyptic cinema. In the same month that 2012 unleashes a special effects orgy of worldwide death and destruction, The Road is released to illustrate what happens after such an apocalypse. It’s not pleasant.

We never find out exactly what happened to the world of this film; in his narration, the unnamed lead character (Viggo Mortensen) refers to a blinding white light, followed by some concussions. But as we follow the story, set some years after the cataclysm, we see the after effects all too clearly. There are no animals, no crops, no vegetation. Trees are devoid of foliage and weak enough to topple over, roots and all. Cars and buildings lie wrecked and emptied. Scrounging for food is difficult, as virtually everything remaining has already been picked over. Gangs of marauding survivors hunt for food, both human and non-human. Wildfires and earthquakes occur with lethal frequency, and everything is covered with a sheen of grey dust and ash. The lack of sunlight has transformed Earth into a dark, grey, and utterly bleak world.

On a road through the devastated landscape, we follow this nameless man and his young son (Kodi Smit-McPhee). Traveling south to the coast, they seek to find a better place, if even slightly so. As they navigate the grim landscape, the pair embodies the concept of hoping for the best and expecting the worst.

The boy, who was born after the worldwide catastrophe and knows nothing of the world before except through his father’s stories, optimistically believes he will eventually find other young survivors like himself, and his father will be with him always; he “carries the fire” within him. The father, on the other hand, remembers the hopelessness of their absent wife and mother (Charlize Theron), who was unable to face living in such a harsh and despairing world. She left them with two bullets, and the father tries to teach his son not just how to survive, but how to use their revolver and those two remaining bullets — on each other, should that become necessary. One character they meet along their journey refers to suicide as a “luxury.” Pity these survivors, indeed.

I had some reservations going into this film. For starters, the premise sounds far beyond depressing. While I don’t mind thought-provoking subject matter and emotional challenges, I find it difficult to endure movies saturated with bleakness and despair — Children Of Men, to name a recent example — and those feelings are frequent with post-apocalyptic stories. The Road is perhaps the bleakest, most agonizing film I’ve ever seen, certainly the saddest I can recall since the 1983 post-nuclear drama Testament.

Furthermore, I haven’t read the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel it’s adapted from, but I did read Cormac McCarthy’s earlier novel No Country For Old Men, and was not impressed. I found his writing awkward, his story meandering, and his ending artificial. Trying to appear profound and artistic, McCarthy instead came across as condescending and pretentious. (And the Coen brothers’ faithful film adaptation, which I found admirable in many respects, couldn’t overcome these deficiencies in the source material.)

Considering the above trepidations, I was caught off guard by how much I enjoyed The Road. I’m unaware of how faithfully Joe Penhall’s screenplay aligns with McCarthy’s novel, but this story about a journey doesn’t meander in the slighest. It’s a tightly focused exploration of a father/son relationship and their love for each other in the face of such incredible hardship. It also brings up simple yet profound questions of morality and spirituality in such a devastating scenario.

The father repeatedly assures his son that they are “the good guys,” but from the boy’s perspective, the line between good and bad becomes increasingly blurry as he observes his father’s actions. And though the two give thanks together when they do find food, and the father sees his son as a sort of instrument of God, questions are expressed of whether a supreme being would turn his back on the world and people He created. It’s a stunning script that challenges both minds and hearts, and it offers a believable glimmer of hope for humanity in the midst of its darkest time.

The Road is elegantly directed by John Hillcoat, whose previous film was the underrated Australian “Western” The Proposition. That film’s writer and co-scorer, rock musician Nick Cave, again collaborates with partner Warren Ellis to deliver a moody musical score that deftly contributes to the mood without becoming overly melancholy or dramatic. There’s an appearance by the star of The Proposition, Guy Pearce, as well as an outstanding, too-brief sequence with a nearly unrecognizable Robert Duvall. I also couldn’t help but marvel at the production design and cinematography, which used surprisingly stark locations in Pennsylvania, Louisiana, Oregon, and Washington to depict this lifeless landscape.

Above all the positive qualities about this movie — including the terrific, emotionally complex performance by Kodi Smit-McPhee as The Boy — the capper is Viggo Mortensen, whose role as The Man is heartbreak personified. As a performer, he’s grown stronger with each performance, and this one far surpasses his Oscar-nominated turn in Eastern Promises. When he finds a precious rarity for his son — an unopened can of Coca-Cola, which the boy has never tasted — the boy insists that his father have some of it, too. The expression on Mortensen’s face is both wondrous and touching. He draws us in with his quieter moments of despair and desolation, and he deserves major accolades for this genius bit of understated acting.

It’s the farthest possible cry from a “feel good” movie, but despite the depressing subject matter, I’m glad I saw The Road. While hardly the most pleasant journey I’ve ever taken, it was absolutely worth the trip.