I've got a new angle to throw out there regarding Carla Jean. My wife smacked me upside the head with this the other day. She thinks that Carla Jean killed herself. If you are viewing Anton as a Grim Reaper type character and you go back and re-listen the the dialog in the Carla Jean scene it certainly can be interpreted as somebody about to commit suicide; you can picture her saying most of the words to herself.

I buried my mother today.
I ain't got the money.
What little I had is long gone.
You don't have to do this.
The coin don’t have no say. It’s just you.

And then she refuses to call the coin toss - she's going to make her own choice about her own death. It's the first choice she's made for herself the entire movie (probably her entire life). She takes control.

Also, note the choice of words Chigurh uses in response to "You don't have to do this." He says "People always say the same thing." He says "People" as if he isn't one of them - further fodder for Chigurh as a Grim Reaper analogy (amongst other things).

I like this interpretation.

You know, that makes good sense. I'll have to watch it again with these thoughts in mind.

This is an interesting interpretation -- I don't know which one to buy, they all seem so credible! I will say, though, Jim that I can't recall you having dealt with that mysterious ending (the Chigurh-related part). Surely there is something very revealing about the meaning of Chigurh here.

This is an interesting perspective, though I have two quibbles:

(1) During the gas station scene, Chigurh does engage in a transaction. He uses the flipped coin, which lands in the attendants favor, to pay for the candy bar (remember: a Snickers bar was only about $.25 in 1980). Yes, money is being used to decide the station attendant’s fate, but when the game of chance does not land in death’s favor, Chigurh temporarily enters the world of the commons.

(2) Go back to the motel attendant who refused to give away Llewelyn’s identity. Was her fate not determined by money? She did, after all, accept compensation in exchange for providing shelter and anonymity to Chirgurh’s main target. It’s a stretch to classify this as greed, though how is she any less fallible than the policeman at the beginning of the movie or the motel attendant in the subsequent scent?

Both of these points are complicating factors, just as death is complicated and not dictated by some binary character schematic. Yes, greed has the effect of hastening one’s demise (we might call this karma), but chance plays a role as well. Also, Chigurh is not a stand-in for death itself, but is rather a servant of death. As such, it was only when fate renders him with the power to kill that he becomes super-human.

Hmmm. I'm not sold on it, simply because I don't think Chigurh gives a good god damn about money—it seems like it's as much an afterthought to him as it is to the audience by the endgame. I don't believe that's an accident. All the BS baggage falls away as the REAL hunt takes place... and the REAL hunt is one in which Moss's death is a foregone conclusion, hence no need to actually show it happening.

As for the boys at the end? Just another representation (to me) that Chigurh's world is absent of anything resembling empathy or mercy. He absolutely cannot accept charity; he FORCES a gift into a transaction. This is a pretty pure strain of sociopathy.

I'm not entirely sure I buy that "Garfield minus Garfield" interpretation. Why would Chigurh check his boots after leaving Carla Jean's house unless he played an active role in her death?

The materialism motif seems inextricably fused with another underlying theme: innocence corrupted. The title of the movie appears to directly address this fundamental Blakean truth: "the shades of the prison house close around the growing boy."

Consider these two parallel scenes: Llewelyn purchases a shirt from older teens on the Mexican border. He has to haggle with them over the price. One boy is slightly more compassionate than the others, but the implication is obvious--they have been corrupted to the point of apathy by money's magnetic lure.

Later on, two young boys urge a gruesomely injured Chigurh to just accept the shirt, free-of-charge. As soon as he departs the scene, the two boys begin bickering over how to split the cash that Chigurh has demanded they accept. The implication is overt, is it not? It would have only been more pronounced if a cloud passed over the two boys at that very moment, shadowing their beings in the gloom of experience.

Jim, I think for your own health and mental well-being, it is time to let go of "No Country for Old Men.' Yes, it is a fine film and we all know you love it but how many posts can one person write on one film. Time to let go.

JE: Marty, I appreciate your concern, but "NCFOM" just came out on DVD in the US in mid-March, and is still at or near the top of DVD sales and rentals, so a lot of people are just now seeing it for the first time. Plus, Roger Ebert's review and my longest piece on the movie, both from November, are still among the five most popular articles on our sites. I'm about to host a five-day "frame-by-frame" analysis of the movie with the audience at the Conference on World Affairs in Boulder, CO, next week and people sure seem to still want to discuss it. As they should, because it's one of the best movies of the last 20 years or so. But I know what you mean: Feel free to skip over the "NCFOM" posts if you like!

While Carla Jean may be feeling suicidal at that point, I don't see how you can interpret that she actually commits suicide. What, she asks Chigurh if she can borrow his gun? Or wrestles it away from him? Or rushes him, knowing he'll shoot? I don't buy it. In fact, I'm not sure I'd buy any interpretation that requires too much extrapolation from what we see and hear. But I can't rule out the possibility that a fresh look at the film on DVD will yield lots of new insights.

I've always bought the capitalism and grim reaper element to the movie. That switch he talks about is something I've certainly tried to convey but he hits it on the nail, beautifully I might add.

I would also like to add there are ways to read into the political climate of our times, throughout the film. Unfortunately anything I could say about that would be up for canon fodder because there's no hard proof to back it up.

I worry about "NCFOM" not lasting the test of time. There are certain elements that will of course, the whole death thing is pretty universal, but there's so much of the film that speaks to our current situation or that feels like it does. In twenty years will someone understand how unsafe and uncertain we feel as a people right now, as a culture, as a political society faced with a horrible governing body and a world that hates us.

While these elements aren't spoken about directly, it would be no surprise to me that this is why the film connected so well with film goers today. In 30 years, it may not, or we might laugh because things have gotten 50 times worse.

The biggest argument against Carla Jean killing herself is that in the book Chigurh, after an extended dialogue scene,(Chigurh talks a lot more in the book than in the movie) shoots her. Given how faithful the Coens are to the rest of the book, its hard to see them deviating from it that late in the movie. What McCarthy made explicit, the Coens made implicit.

I wish there would be a nihilistic hero in cinema who doesn't harness amorality for base objects like money, fame, or power: but instead for art, philosophy, or science. For example, what if Chigurh killed people for specific psychological research, to study their various reactions? Far more intriguing than the obviousness of money. Or if he ruthlessly and insidiously slaughtered in order to rule a movie studio, and make masterpieces without any restrictions?

But every nihilistic hero I see is usually obsessed with cash, absolute power, or gratification of base desires. The closest I have seen was in Blow-Up, in which the heartless main character at least produced good photography: but even he wasted so much time frolicking with women and being frivolous in general. Shadow of a Doubt depicted a man who killed worthless women in order to nourish his family happy: but this isn't a Beethoven Symphony.

What I mainly dislike is how the freedom of amorality is wasted on such baseness, at least in its filmic depictions. In real life there are precedents, at least in isolated circumstances, of such behavior advancing man, instead of gratifying him basely. But of course, such a depiction may dangerously approve of violence, even though such approval is far more noble than prostituting it for entertainment.

First off, to sound like a crank: please stop doing so many postings on No Country For Old Men! Yes, you love it, but you keep routinely writing about it and this habit is tautological!

Now to do a complete 180:

In the only scene where Moss and Chigurh speak to each other, Chigurh hypothesizes that Moss will "present the money at his feet" before he kills him. This indicates to me that he isn't focused on the satchel of money; he's focused on 'beating' Moss into submission and death and continuing his way of being. This isn't motivated by greed-- this is motivated by his compulsion to be a psychopathic killer, which, I feel, can only lead to his obliteration.

Also, the car crash at the end of the movie is suppose to indicate that Chigurh is not a deathly specter but merely a twisted human being who has a code that is just as illogical and (possibly) vain as anyone's code. Ultimately, Chigurh, like Bell, can't stop what's coming. Thus, he isn't 'supposed to be' the Grim Reaper.

I don't think Chigurh represents capitalism or materialism at all. He is someone who only bound to his sense of pride and thus, to his death-drive. Chigurh isn't death incarnate; to get all Freudian, he's 'death-drive' incarnate.

dto1984- Sorry, but that just doesn't work. They are two different works and must be accepted on their own terms. While it is true that the film is based on the novel, one does not simply stand in for the other. Comparative analysis of the two is worthwhile, but the film is a separate work complete unto itself. In the end, the biggest argument against Carla Jean killing herself is that we are given no concrete indication in the film that this has taken place.

This has probably been mentioned before, and I'm not sure how much it contributes to this discussion, but in the book the two boys find Chigurh's gun in his car and hide it. So Mccarthy goes even further than the film to suggest karma has been passed on.

Interesting, but the reason I can't buy into this idea is because it treats Chigurh as the writer's own sent messenger boy and not a three dimensional person. Within the reality of the film do you believe that Chigurh walks around with anti-capitalist sentiments in his head? If so, based on what? And the gentleman from Finland completely jumps dimensions and leaves any semblance of the harsh real world behind when he suggests that Chigurh's actions caused a vehicle to smack him broadside. To me, No Country is meant in the most literal/realist way. Any examination of Chigurh should be grounded in the same reality that an examination of your own neighbor would inhabit. I mean, this is a film with limping dogs and shootouts with no discernible choreography and a lawman that isn't hot on anyone's trail really. There's a reality at work here. Chigurh should be investigated relative to that reality in my opinion.

Dear Jim,

I was watching NCFOM for the third time last weekend and, to my astonishment, I found myself feeling bad for Chigurh after the car crash. This completely unexpected emotion left me thinking all week and I've put together my own theory on his last scene.

Anton Chigurh is, obviously, a psychopath but what separates him from other film psychopaths is that he really doesn’t enjoy what he does. First off, he finds it to be a dirty job. He’s always making sure his boots don’t get bloody and before he shoots the last Mexican at the hotel, he closes the shower curtain so his stylish haircut won’t get messy. Also, he kills his victims in the least passionate way possible, either with a silenced shotgun or with the pressurized cattle gun to finish the job quickly and easily. But most importantly, I’ve always noticed this certain sadness in his eyes and whenever he’s getting ready to commit a multiple homicide, he always has this depressing look on his face that says, “Well, here we go again”.

So the big question here is why does Chigurh do what he does? To me, money is definitely not the driving motivation of this character. The only reason he involves himself in this drug deal gone wrong is because his logic is if he has to kill, why not make it his source of income. The reason he constantly murders is because he thinks he has to. Chigurh is not only the embodiment of death, he sees himself that way. After the first few scenes, where we see what he’s capable of, he arrives at the gas station where he explains what his job is: a delivery man who brings his costomers death. He didn’t choose this occupation, it was chosen for him and Chigurh does what he’s told (from God or fate or whatever else you prefer).

When Carla Jean says, “You don’t have to do this” and Chigurh reply’s, “They always say that”, he doesn’t say it like Death does in The Seventh Seal with cold witticism. He says it in a way that shows he begins to question it himself for the first time. After that, we cut to the outside of the house and we find out that he has killed her. He starts to drive his car and he hears something in back of him. In the mirror we see two boys on bikes behind him. Many suggest that the reason this is done is to show that his meeting with Carla Jean has shook him up and has left him, for the first time, distracted which leads to the car accident. I agree with that up to the point that it’s specifically the boys that distract him from not noticing the car. But watching the film again you get a different idea.

From the few moments that follow before the crash, the series of cuts are as follows- Chigurh POV of the road (intersection is about 50 feet away), Chigurh looks into mirror, Chigurh POV into mirror and sees the kids, Chigurh looks back to the road, Chigurh point of view of road (about 15, 20 feet away), back to Chigurh and crash. This shows that the kids did not distract him long enough to get his attention away from the road. So what did?

Chigurh asked Carson before his death, “If the rule you followed brought you to this, of what use was the rule.” He begins to wonder where his rule will bring him and he starts to consider if he really has to act as the angel of death. Then he sees the boys on their bikes. What the boys on their bikes represent is a simple, happy suburban life (I guarantee that in every Norman Rockwell painting of a suburban street there’s a little boy riding a bike). Chigurh wants this life. He begins to fantasize about a nice little house with a family. He wants to come home and sit down in front of a TV set with a bottle of milk after a hard days work. He wants to have a friendly chat with a friend or neighbor like the ones the gas station owner and the chicken truck driver tried to have with him. He begins to think that he could live like everyone else…..

And then Wham! Whether it was God, fate or just plain bad luck, Chigurh sees the car crash as a sign as no, that life is not a possibility for him. He has to go on and do the job he was made for. Anton Chigurh is the one whose occupation is the thing that just keeps coming and nothing else.

I guess not too many people here have seen "Perdita Durango" ("Dance with the devil" in the butchered American DVD release), but that film predates "No Country for Old Men" in some aspects. NCFOM is not the first time Bardem is punished with the weirdest haircut they could find. Also, Chigurh's first on-screen killing is a showy, sadistic strangling, with Bardem in full "psycho killer in ecstasy" mode. His acting in that scene doesn't match the cold detachment he shows during the rest of the movie.

Who wants to bet Sami Pöyry is now on Jim's list of awesome names? It sure is on mine.

Who wants to bet Sami Pöyry is now on Jim's list of awesome names? It sure is on mine.

I'm in the camp of Chigurh as embodiment of capitalism run amok (as well as being an analogy for the Grim Reaper). I think that greed leading to death (Moss is obvious but there's also the hotel attendent who accepts Moss' money and is then killed) and money as a tool are two of the largest thematic lines in the film. Money also corrupts (both exchanges involving shirts from strangers; the taxi driver ignoring his principles).

One thing of note about the car crash scene: Chigurh had a green light. The other driver ran a red light. The other driver broke a rule of the road and gave his life for it. I'm not entirely sure why the Coens point this out but they certainly go out of their way to show the color of the traffic light. Could this, and the money, tie into something more broad? Death comes to those who do not follow the rules of society? Chigurh takes things he needs (medical treatment) instead of buying them - certainly not a capitalistic was of thinking. Chigurh as an embodiment of Communism? Everyone is supposed to be given an equal stake but those who try to do for themselves instead of conforming (Moss taking the money; the driver running the red light) are dooming themselves. A stretch, maybe, but maybe there's a cleaner way to tie it all together than we've already discussed.

The car crash scene also has one of my favorite shots - Chigurh walks away from the accident (where the grim reaper has claimed it's latest life) and disappears into the suburbs (death is everywhere, not just chasing the wicked) as the shot crossfades to Bell, staring at Chigurh, giving a literal representation of what is on Bell's mind. Gives me goosebumps.

jbryant: the notion of Carla Jean committing suicide is somewhat reliant upon the notion that, like in the scene where Bell enters the hotel room where Moss was killed, Chigurh (a person) is not really there. Chigurh, the embodiment of death, is in the room. Somebody else posted that Chigurh couldn't be seen by Bell in the hotel room because it wasn't his time to die. You only see the Grim Reaper when your time is up ("That depends. Do you see me?"). Yeah, this would mean that the film is mixing it's metaphors having Chigurh be both an actual person and the embodiment of Death, but I think it works. I like the ambiguity.

dto1984: Sure. But that was in the book, not the film. ;) Anyway, the suicide is just one interpretation. I love that this is one of those rare films that can really be seen from many different angles.

Remember: this man surely hasn't worried about people seeing him previously.

Er, what about the accountant?

"Are you going to shoot me?"
"Did you see me?"

John Ramirez - The movie PERFUME: STORY OF A MURDERER is almost exactly what you are describing - a story of a nihilistic killer whose motivation is creating high art in the form of a perfume.

Mike Leto: that is a damned interesting interpretation of the scene leading up to the car accident, but ultimately I have to call foul.

It reads a little too much like a lot of fan fiction: A person who really really enjoys a piece of fiction and becomes fascinated by the villain and cannot, ultimately, tolerate that this person is the villain. So they imagine a world where that villain is merely a misunderstood person who must (and can) be rehabilitated. In a lot of fan fiction, this is done by the intervention of a character who's basically a stand-in for the writer. (It's called "mary sue" fiction.)

I don't mean that to disparage you; the symptoms just seem too similar.

I would love to hear what the Cohen brothers have to say about Chigurh, or even Cormac McCarthy for that matter. They've been silent about the interpretations. I imagine them reading all these blogs and getting a big kick out of the many mythological musings. I say that they've accomplished what they set out to do, and we're all having a grand old time thinking about this powerful story months after experiencing it.
I'm really looking forward to seeing the film adaptation of McCarthy's "The Road," and really hope it's as powerful as the Cohen's take on his material. The book was amazing.

Mr. Emerson: Love the film, love your passion for it, could live without the naysayers telling you what to write on your own blog. Don't like it? Skip over it, people! There are some of us who are interested in what Jim (and many others) have to say about this modern classic. Mr. Emerson's enthusiasm for this film helped me look at it a little differently, and I've subsequently gone to appreciate it more.
Just watched it for the fourth time, this time in the comfort of my own home, and it amazes me how a film that is so visually driven is also a damn near non-stop roller coaster. It's a masterful balancing act that only the Coen's are capable of.

It’s nice to see that my interpretation has gotten so many responses. I would like to point out few things though. First, even though this blind capitalism is a major theme in the movie, I don’t think Chigurh himself should be seen as capitalist, anti-capitalist, communist or whatever. It’s just that the other people are blinded by their manic lust for money and Chigurh makes them to see this. For him, it doesn’t have to be particularly money what the others are after. It’s just that they have sold their principles for something else – in this case the drug money.

And this leads to one the most ingenious points in the movie. The Coen films are packed full of people who desperately try to get some McGuffin, and it almost always is money. From very early on it’s clear that these people are destined to fail, but they keep on struggling even after everything’s gone wrong. Now, in “No Country for Old Men” there are two moral voices: Bell and Chigurh. Bell can’t cope with the reality anymore so he kind of surrenders, but Chigurh goes to address people. In a way, Chigurh doesn’t just speak to the characters in THIS movie but also to the characters in OTHER Coen films.

Of course, Chigurh is a psycho. But it is a wonderfully daring move to make this creepy mass murderer something that, I think, ultimately is the voice of the implied author of the story (and I now avoid saying he’s the voice of the Coens because as a literature student I’ve been endlessly told not to). Chigurh doesn’t represent morality in that boring way psychos usually do in movies when they want to place themselves above the rest. He represents the underlying sense of necessity that goes with the actions of the characters. When Moss brings the satchel back to this house, he already lets money to come in the way of his wife’s safety.

Since Chigurh is given this big a role not just as a part of the plot but also as a part of the essential structure of the story, his transformation at the end of the movie is all the more chilling. Its creepiness is made scarier in my mind by the fact that a couple of months ago we had our first school shooting in Finland. The gunman who killed nine people (including himself) was one of those lunatics who thought he was above the rest and that his actions should be essentially seen as good and right. After Chigurh has surrendered to his own desires, he is nothing more than one those sad cases. He yearns to kill and has some pretty extreme insights on life but he surely ain’t the grim reaper no more. The fact that he disappears from the movie in an idyllic neighborhood – the heart of our civilization – underlines the results of a culture where money has been let to take over and emotional emptiness prevails.

Like Jim, I believe “No Country for Old Men” is probably the best film in 20 years. I’m planning to organize a panel discussion about it with one the oldest movie clubs in Finland this summer. Movie clubs have been dying in recent years because The Finnish Film Archive doesn’t give it’s copies for people to see and there’s little point showing films that have just been in theaters. Thus, it’s extremely important to have new films like “No Country for Old Men” that arouse discussion and all kinds of interesting interpretations.

Jim Emerson -- I know this message has to filter through you first, so can you tell me the e-mail address of "Mike," who posted in this discussion, and recommended that I see Perfume: The Story of a Murderer? I would ask him directly within the discussion itself, but that action seems a little silly, given its digressive and personal nature.

Or you can ask him to e-mail me, if he is weary of giving out his address.

Much thanks, especially if this request caused you trouble.

"~I wish there would be a nihilistic hero in cinema who doesn't harness amorality for base objects like money, fame, or power: but instead for art, philosophy, or science.\#

John - I think someone suggested "Perfume" for the art part of that. Also check out "The Young Poisoners Handbook," about a nihilistic youth who poisons people (beginning with his family) as an obsessive science experiment. Philosophy is a murkier category, as the Philosophical Serial Killer is a well-worn movie cliche that also encompasses those who kill for power, fame, and/or pleasure. Even Anton Chigurh could be said to make a philosophical argument for his executions...

An additional touch of the Carla Jean/Chigurh scene at the end and comparrision to the book. In the book, she relents, and calls it, and is shot. I think one of the bravest and subtle changes in the movie, is NOT having Carla Jean call the coin toss. She does plead and argue, but she does not give in, and that makes her braver than any except maybe Ed Tom. He 'won' by giving in, he quit, and he lived. How sad. I love this movie!

It's worth remembering that the film ends not with Chigurh's escape, but with Tommy Lee Jones, having failed to catch him, retiring (accepting he is old) and recounting a dream about joining his dead father "up ahead". Fade-out to ticking clock.
To create some kind of thematic unity out of all this, a reading of Chigurh-as-death seems inevitable to me.

Mike Leto wrote:

Also, he kills his victims in the least passionate way possible, either with a silenced shotgun or with the pressurized cattle gun to finish the job quickly and easily. But most importantly, I’ve always noticed this certain sadness in his eyes and whenever he’s getting ready to commit a multiple homicide, he always has this depressing look on his face that says, "Well, here we go again".

Not sure if I agree with you on your analysis there, Mike. Recall the first two murders. I think glee (or at least some level of sensual satisfaction) is what we're seeing on Chigurh's face when he strangles the cop. And he's smiling at the driver before he kills him with the cattle gun. (Albeit perhaps just to put his prey at ease.)

But I agree that Chigurh seems to transition through the movie. I think Carla Jean's refusal to "call it" is significant in what it says about the victims as well as what it might have done to Chigurgh himself. Perhaps his encounter with her really changes him.

I also think, off the top of my head, how significant it is that Carla Jean is not the only one who refuses to be cowed by Chigurh. Llewellyn also refuses to cast himself as the helpless victim. Everyone else who encounters Chigurh seems resigned to play whatever role has been laid out for them, including Bell and Wells. Only Llewellyn and Carla Jean say directly to him (essentially), "Screw you, I'm not playing by your rules." Two of a kind.

I love the fact that everone seems to come away from the film with a different idea of how Anton Chigurh is. Is this a great film or what? (Don't answer, rhetorical question.)

I would just like to add that I disagree with Sami's contention that by killing Carla Jean he's taken destiny into his own hands. By refusing to accept a coin toss to decide her fate, she's just allowed Chigurh to revert back to the original decider of her destiny: Llewelyn. (At least that's how Anton would see it.)

haggie said: "You only see the Grim Reaper when your time is up ("That depends. Do you see me?")."

But what about the store clerk, the first motel clerk, and the trailer park lady, all of whom see and talk to Chiguhr without losing their lives?

**But I agree that Chigurh seems to transition through the movie. I think Carla Jean's refusal to "call it" is significant in what it says about the victims as well as what it might have done to Chigurgh himself. Perhaps his encounter with her really changes him.**

So it's really a movie about Chigurh understanding his true place in the world. It's like "It's a Wonderful Life" only with cattle guns. :)

"Where's that money? Where's that money you silly stupid old fool? Do you realize what it means?"

jbryant: Well, that depends. Did they see him? ;) I don't see Chiguhr only as Death personified, a la The Seventh Seal. To me, he is both a real person in the story and a grim reaper symbol.

In watching the film again I've given some more thought to the scene with the gas station attendant. The candy wrapper adds such great tension to that scene. In (over) analyzing it, I think that it works not only because it's simply a great visual but it also seems to be a clear sign to the gas station attendant of just what is on the line. Chiguhr devours the contents and leaves the crumpled, empty container on the counter. A sign of where his inquiries are taking the situation, no?

In my opinion thinking of Chigurh as the embodiment of anything (Capitalism, for instance) is way of track; I think its more appropriate to see him as a paragon of the nitezschean utopy, a man who has destroyed common ethics and morality and rebuilt them from scratch to suit his needs damning himself to a life of loneliness but somehow manages not to care about this fact nor lets it harm him one bit... all while keeping his whole sanity intact(unlike a certain Mr. Plainview and a certain Kane who in response to their self imposed exile from society descend into the spirals of madness as any living and breathing human would since healthy interactions with other members of our species are a necessity for our mental stability and survival). Chigurrh, in absolute coherence to his personal code of behavior, achieves the impossible: peace of mind in complete solitude, being the only man actually capable of thriving and rejoicing amidst the "cold and darkness" of this world by becoming its reflection. Detached and indifferent like nature itself his designs match those of fate and in this truly stands on the "coin's own level", only true chaos (manifested in the form of an abrupt and spontaneous car crash) can really harm and surprise him. To quote Jean Pierre Melville's fictional "Book of Bushido" (not the Hagakure, mind you) : ``There is no solitude greater than a samurai's unless perhaps it is that of a tiger in the jungle.''

...i hope that didn't sound overly prententious.

haggie: I have no problem with Chiguhr being seen as both real person and grim reaper symbol. But your earlier comment seemed to suggest he's both a real person and the actual grim reaper. Maybe I misread you.

I realize we can't put anything past the Coens (see Barton Fink, for instance), but it may be possible to overestimate the level of ambiguity they intend here. I guess it's an inherent danger of not spelling everything out. You run the risk of ceding your vision to the whims of the audience. "Hey, maybe it's all the dying dream of that deputy Chiguhr kills at the beginning." "No, one of those antelopes ate some jimson weed and hallucinated the whole thing." :)

Having just read the book again a few things seem a bit clearer to me now. Most evident, to me anyway, is that what Chigurh means to everyone he encounters and what he means to Bell(whom he never encounters)are very different things. Chigurh's encounters with other people I don't think can be completely interpreted in a realist vein because these scenes appear to be a commentary on the corrupting force of money. That said, Chigurh means something altogether different to Bell, and so to us. The book/film opens with Bell talking about a young man who kills a fourteen year old girl for no reason. Any reason, no matter how horrid, would ease Bell's mind it seems, allow him a portal into which he could, at the least, contextualize his own horror. Instead, Bell must regard the young man as something other and alien. Bell gives us other examples of this kind of thing throughout the book and currency doesn't come into play here. I think this is because to Bell, Chigurh represents a staggering downward shift in the way humanity regards itself and others. It's something he's been noting for quite some time now, and it all culminates in Chigurh. I think this downward shift and it's origin is just as relevant to the story as Chigurh's commentary-on-money driven dealings.

John: Yes, they are different works, but that does not mean they are mutually exclusive. They both tell the same story and they both tell it in very similar ways. So much so that it feels very natural to use the book to interpret the film (which the Coens themselves said on Charlie Rose is just a compressed version of the book). You could not, of course, use every book made into a movie in this way (it would be silly to attempt it with To Have and Have Not, for example). All I was really saying was that McCarthy shows Carla Jean's death one way and the Coens show it another way.

****

As for the main subject of this thread, I don't think the money angle holds up throughout the whole movie. In Bell's voice-over at the beginning, he talks about a killer who killed for no reason at all, other than he had been planning it "for as long as he could remember." Bell's not talking about someone who killed for money. If the film is about greed and money, it is being set up very poorly, contains a scene that is unnecessary, and is not the masterpiece people say it is. But if the film is about evil, miscalculated by some, incomprehensible to others, then this scene neatly sets the tone for everything that is to come.

Jim, I'm not so sure that something can be a MacGuffin if there is thematic resonance to the identity of the object. The fact that Chigurh is consumed with money is entirely relevant and necessary to the pursuit of his capitalistic goals.

John Ramirez: I believe the movie you are looking for is entitled "Se7en", or perhaps "Peeping Tom".

Correction: The above response to "John" was actually intended for Brian D. I misread the "posted by" line.

Seeing the movie, I actually wondered in Chigurh had actually killed Carla Jean, or whether her refusal to call the toss had somehow won out. For one thing, Chigurh leaves the house without a weapon, which led me to think that he had either not taken it in (unlikely), or that he had left it behind.

This leads to the interesting possibility that somehow Carla Jean's resilience won against Chigurh's evil. I found Carla Jean's conversation with Chigurh somehow reminiscent of Marge Gunderson speaking with the killer at the end of Fargo.

However, there are two points that still support the death of Carla Jean. First, as has been mentioned before, she is killed in the book. Second, Chigurh, on coming out of the house, stops to examine his boot soles. His dislike of getting his feet dirty with blood throughout the rest of the film is here suggested again, implying that he had indeed spilled blood.

I personally like the idea that Carla Jean did not die in the film version, but I think it is one of those things the Coens make ambiguous, leaving room for a more positive interpretation, or else more "cold and dark."

Just because something bears thematic significance doesn't make it not a MacGuffin. Suggesting otherwise would seem to imply a lack of respect for the craftmanship involved in good storytelling.

When you think about it, it's all plot devices. Characters are only there to act out the plot and the plot is only there to expose the characters.

Strong recurring themes are a great way to make a story better, but they don't elevate a story to some magical plateau. A MacGuffin is still a MacGuffin.

A few things:

Anton Chigurh does one thing, and one thing only - he gets the job done, efficiently and effectively. He's good at it - better than those who know him, hunt him, and are in many ways similar to him (eg: the Woody Harrelson character). He has no passions and allows himself no feelings. He has emptied himself of humanity to the extent possible - all he will allow - the "best that he can do" is to let chance dictate whether or not he kills. That is the extent of his mercy, in the rare cases when he is tempted toward mercy. I don't believe he cares at all for the contents of the case - they are simply a piece of a job that he must wind up, because he has accepted the job and he will do it at whatever cost. No one who crosses him is permitted to escape, but occasionally a peripheral figure can - upon terms - be allowed to live after interacting with him. We see this in the case of the gas station clerk, for whom fate intervenes at the coin toss, we see it in the offer for Carla Fay's life which her husband declines, and we see it in the 2 boys, who allow themselves to become part of a transaction (necessary, because Chigurh cannot allow himself the humanity of a merciful interaction). He is an empty man, and as long as he continues to exist, his purpose will be to accomplish whatever job he accepts. That is all.

It should also be noted that in the book, Carla Fay does eventually choose a side, but not the right one. And while I do agree that a book and a movie are separate entities, I do not feel that they can be separated to the extent that one blogger suggests, especially in a case where the bulk of the screenplay so closely follows the lines of the novel as written. I would guess that the Coen brothers left Carla Fay's concession to the coin toss out because A) you have to leave some things out of a novel to make a screenplay, and the story isn't changed by this omission, and B) it emphasizes Carla Fay's role in the story, which I would probably describe as the human element. She is the only main character more concerned with the people around her, and with her own life, and with the continuation of a normal state, than with accomplishing something around the satchel of money. She is the only one who would have enough sense to just walk away from it (except the sheriff, who knows what ever becoming involved with it in the first place will cost), but she isn't given an individual choice. She is the human cost, and when the Coens left out her attempt to choose for herself they emphasized her helplessness.

W.B. Yeats' poem "Sailing to Byzantium" begins with the line "That is no country for old men." The poem is about turning away from the sensual/material world and turning to the spiritual. Tommy Lee Jones's character in the movie laments that he thought God would show up later in his life and didn't. So, perhaps a spiritual interpretation is possible.

Also, could the name Anton Chigurh be a code? Combining the first syllables in his first and last names yields:

Ant Chi = Anti-Christ
On Gurh = Anger
or, the Antichrist's anger. Javier Bardem's character might easily be seen as infernal.

Tom, you really knocked me for a loop with that deconstruction of Chigurh's name. You've opened an interesting door. Much oblige.

I intended this as a contribution to your Reader Mail section, but I’m not quite sure where to submit an entry for that, so . . . umh . . . here it is.

I believe Mr. Smissen is quite wrong in concluding that McCarthy’s book makes it clear that Chigurh is a non-believer. While McCarthy’s novel never makes Chigurh himself overtly state his belief or non-belief in God, both internal clues and the context of the whole novel - given principally through Bell, whom I take as expressing MacCarthy’s own ultimate conclusions - indicate a quite different conclusion.

While McCarthy’s novels are often described (including by yourself) as ‘Old Testament’ in flavour, No Country could be equally well or better be characterized as Apocalyptic, as so much of it is devoted to illustrating the idea that this time around, things are really, yes, really, going to hell in a handbasket, and it’s not just a case of Bell (or MacCarthy), getting old (see, in the novel, Bell’s monologue about a survey taken in schools according to which, in the space of forty years, the main problems reported by teachers went from talking in class and chewing gum to arson, rape and murder. By the way, is there such a study, or did McCarthy just make that up? Does anyone know?).

Anyway: the one thing that may confidently be affirmed about Chigurh is that he is not on God’s side. He could conceivably be simply neutral with regard to God - i.e. God doesn’t or probably doesn’t exist and either way is not a factor in his life - or, he may be actively anti-God - i.e. some sort of demonic force. Those seem to be the only two alternatives. As to which of the two McCarthy thinks Chigurh is, we have a few good hints, if we assume that McCarthy generally speaks through Bell:

“ . . . they asked me if I believed in Satan . . . I guess as a boy I did. Come the middle years my belief I reckon had waned somewhat. Now I’m startin to lean back the other way. He explains a lot of things that otherwise don’t have no explanation. Or not to me they don’t.” (Chap.VIII)

Then there’s Chigurh’s own remark to the effect that “Even a nonbeliever might find it useful to model himself after God, Very useful, in fact”. This could only come from a positively demonic philosophy, not an atheist/agnostic one. Not only is Chigurh himself not a nonbeliever, he seems a bit wryly amused at the thought that anyone could be. Think about it: Satan, if he exists, is certainly not an atheist, and I surmise that McCarthy’s vision is that Chigurh is an incarnation of positive evil. As Mr. Smissen himself puts it; “. . . it would appear that Chigurh willfully operates under an evil banner.”

Indeed it does appear so, and that is quite different from operating under an atheist banner. Carson Wells, now, might be operating under an atheist banner, from what we see of him. Atheism, as a philosophy, has no preference at all between - indeed, does not encompass the existence of - such categories as ‘good’ and ‘evil’ (please note: atheists, as persons, that is persons who happen to be atheists, might well make a distinction and have a preference). The last two correspondents, Mrs. Upjohn and Cremins, are quite right in protesting against the idea that being an atheist must imply that one must therefore also be a sociopath or monster or just a bad person. Of course it doesn’t. Atheism is completely indifferent with regard to moral behaviour; it just says, what is, is.

In real, practical terms, I have always found that most atheists are far better than their philosophy demands. And that is fortunate indeed, since their philosophy, taken to its logical end, demands nothing at all by way of moral behaviour. Decent instincts, it seems, can, and usually do, in most people, overcome even the shabbiest philosophy, for which we may all be thankful.

By the same token, I observe that most Christians fall well below what their philosophy demands (and most of them would agree that they do). But then, theirs is a very demanding philosophy indeed, which is why, in a historical cycle of steadily lowering standards of behaviour, their philosophy is getting less and less popular.

So there you go. High standards, low performance. Low standards, high performance. No standards . . . hard to go wrong. Or, at least, hard to be pinned down as underperforming.

Oh, and by the time you get to downright evil standards . . .uh, oh, hello, Anton. Uh, Anton, look, you don’t have to . . .do . . . this . . .

Normand, I think first and foremost McCarthy means Chigurh as a real guy in search of loot. We even know that Chigurh and Carson Wells have some history together. And if you read the book you also know that Chigurh shaves everyday, takes meals on a regular basis, has to fill up his gas tank and enjoys cashews. Why did McCarthy bother with all these little humanizing touches? Why not just have Chigurh in constant stalk mode? This would've been easy enough to do. In the book Chigurh spends five days holed up in a motel nursing himself back to health after getting shot in the leg. It's pretty clear that McCarthy wants Chigurh to be perfectly credible to the world he inhabits. See, if you only treat Chigurh as a message that must be deciphered then Chigurh becomes unreal to the story because after all, his only real purpose is to be interpreted by the reader or viewer. This leaves no room to try to figure out how Chigurh views himself, which to me is the key to figuring out Chigurh. To me, Chigurh as real guy is riveting. But Chigurh as some arcane force does nothing for me.

JIM and ALL,

Before I go into my next essay long response
here's a blog for the books. You all went hog crazy over the post that equated Chigurh with atheism, take a look at this one. The post he uses is interesting, but his own thoughts towards the end are just ridiculous. Here's a man that takes his own beliefs and blankets them over what other people think. Shudder.
http://custosfidei.blogspot.com/2008/01/no-country-for-old-men-is-about-culture.html

Vanity. The one thing like everything else in the movie that humanizes each character is their vanity. I feel like I'm on a pulpit preaching over and over again. But I don't think the characters can be seen clearly without first wondering how they see themselves.

To break Chigurh down by looking at how he kills each individual person doesn't seem like it works. Each time I read someone that posts in an attept to do this, by the time I'm done I think, "But wait, there was that time where he didn't blink twice."

I think perhaps killing for Chigurh is liking eating for anyone else. Some times we're going to savor a meal, sometimes we're going to eat something because we're hungry and there's nothing else around. Sometimes in fact we're going to flip a coin...McDonald's or Burger King. The difference is Chigurh's vanity is so great he thinks he has the power to do it with a human life.

Screenplay - school - kicking - in ... the break of the routine is when someone decides to fight back. Then the ease of his murdering spree is put into question. Who else would be able to fight back but someone who has been to hell himself...Llewlyn - Vietnam. Someone who understands death perhaps a little more than your average person.

Chigurh's idea of who he is, is put into question. Finally, Carla Jean's decision to not call the coin toss breaks him of his vanity - he breaks his "code" to kill. His code is created out of sheer vanity. Just as Moss's and Bell's vanity is put into question. Moss's unfortunately with his death (wasn't able to escape that one.)

That anyone feels they can be death or escape death is a vain action all together, or even extend life (botox). Look at Ellis, the man who says it's vanity is hanging on to the last thread of life! It's a very balanced idea in this film. Caught from three distinct perspectives.

The more I read about the book (I should just read the damned thing!), the more the thought that this movie and this book is more about the nature of killing equating to the nature of war in our world seems to make sense. It would seem to be a more obvious theme in the book, where the Vietnam theme is also played up. In the movie tha idea is streamlined. Do we have the right to take life or avoid death? Does Moss have the right to dip his hand in someone else's oil well to get some money? Here it's drug money. But then what does it say when he goes back to give water to the drug trafficker? A point in the film few talk about. Does Moss's vanity go so deep that he thinks he can keep someone else from death?

Just how vain is war? To think that one country can claim another country through the use of violence, or that one religion can spread their own by killing others. When our warriors are sent over seas to get back the oil that I guess belongs to us (?), what kind of people do they become? What kind of people does our war machine want them to become? They want them to become Anton Chigurh's. And as we saw with Vietnam, many did come back unable the shake the killer in them. Is that what's happening now? I know this is an unfinished thought. But I think it's one worth exploring. One I will continue to think about and research.

Brad,

I know you guys are talking about the book, but you can't use what the book is talking about to say what the movie is talking about. The movie is the Coen's interpretation not Mccarthy's and could be different. Just remember that in your fervent remarks pertaining to the book the Chigurh in the movie does none of what you describe (er, very little anyway.)

Phillip, respectfully, it seems to me that any analysis of a film should be specific to that film. An overlay regarding your thoughts on vanity could easily be created and dropped over just about any film out there and a likewise analysis would be rendered.

Just as Roger Ebert's review of 2001: A Space Odyssey has enhanced the way I experience the film, Cormac's McCarthy's book does a similar thing for me. Nothing wrong there.

Many people didn't like this movie. This is understandable if you saw the movie as a very interesting chase story set in western style, and then suffered a huge letdown when there was no final showdown between the apparent protagonist and the bad guy, the other good guy fails to nab the bad guy, the bad guy gets away, and then the ending leaves them flat. But that is not what this movie is about.

The movie is an allegory about death, how we see it (or don't), how we face it (Moss), how it comes to us, what control we have over it (Carla Jean), and how we value our own worth in the contemplation of it (Bell). What's truly genius about this movie is how the Coens relate this broader meaning into a very exciting chase story.

Chigurh is a symbol of death. His appearance, that fact that he rarely changes clothes, appears suddenly at places without explanation as to how he arrived all indicate an otherworldly presence. His odd dialog and philosophy make much more sense if you view him in this context. He is present at all on-screen deaths. Why? Because he’s a witness to death, but he’s not the cause of it. He's the grim reaper with shroud and scythe. He's death and he's there to take the person, but he's not the cause of the death.

Now to make the movie work as an allegory the Coens had to integrate Chigurh as a human into the chase story. That there were able to accomplish this is a testament to their filmmaking genius and the reason they won all the awards. This is why the Coens purposely showed several scenes to depict Chigurh with human qualities, suffering pain, mending his wounds, choking on a cashew etc. Otherwise the story becomes a fantasy with Chigurh as some sort of superhuman comic book character and the Coens didn't want that.

The moment where Bell pushes the motel room door open is the last moment of his life, the double shadow is symbolic of his spirit leaving his body. The rest of the scene and his visit to Uncle Ellis represent Bell's transition into the afterlife. The tool (dime) being left on the floor, and not in Chigurh's pocket, indicates his task was not complete and Chigurh was interrupted by Bell's approach to the door.

Ultimately it doesn't matter where Chigurh was in the hotel room or at what point Bell's life ended. It’s like arguing about whether the boy saw one wolf or two in "The Boy who Cried Wolf". It’s a detail that regardless of its nature does not alter the broader meaning of the story the author is trying to relate.

The final two scenes with Bell represent his journey into the afterlife. The first, a visit to his dead uncle and the second, a recounting of his failures in life. As we ponder death do we not question our value in life? This is the conversation he relates to his dead uncle.

The final scene with Bell is also telling. The word "retired" is a euphemism for "dead". Moss was a retired welder, Carla Jean retired from WalMart, Wells a retired Army colonel, and the retired Uncle Ellis are all dead. Bell desires to remain with his wife, to go riding with her, but she says "I can't, I'm not retired (dead). Bells two dreams lament his life and his future. His father gave him some money and he lost it. His father passed down the legacy of a lawman and entrusted him to protect his people (Moss and his wife), a job he failed miserably at. The second dream relates his father movement into heaven as he goes ahead of Bell carrying the light and the warmth. Bell knows his father is waiting for him and wants to get there but can't. The fact that he wakes up before reaching his father, the warmth and the light, and is stuck in the dark and the cold, indicate Bell feels he isn't worthy to join his father.

The whole idea of Bell joining his father was foreshadowed in the comment Moss made to Carla Jean about his dead mother: "Well, then I'll tell her myself".

Moss was a thrill seeker who challenged death. He did not return to drug deal scene to bring the Mexican some water. He couldn't have cared less about this dying drug dealer, who most likely would have been dead when Moss returned anyway. That was just an excuse in his own mind to justify his return to the excitement of the hunt, of the chase. Moss was an unemployed welder who longed for the excitement of Vietnam, exemplified by his volunteering for a second tour of duty. He thought himself quite the hunter and tracker. Finding the money and running with it was the most excitement he had experienced since Vietnam.

When Carla Jean tells him she has a bad feeling about this Moss says: "Well I have a good one". He enjoyed it! Moss disregarded the warning of two guardian angels, the first being the black man who picked him up hitchhiking. The man warns Moss "You shouldn't be doing that". Why does Moss ask the man, who theoretically can't have any idea what Moss has been up to, to clarify what he meant? Because Moss suspects the man is talking about running with the money. Which of course he is. Moss ignores the warning.

The second angel Wells (note angel wings as he sits across from Chigurh) gives Moss an even more explicit warning to include the consequences of his actions, causing the death of both himself and his wife. Again, Moss rejects the advice but possibly changes his mind, sadly too late. The death of Wells, his disintegrated angels wings visible floating down as dust, signify the ultimate end for Moss. Then Chigurh's comment to Moss tells him that his guardian angel is no longer there to help him "Carson Wells is not here in the sense that you mean" and then right after, "You need to come see me", indicating that Moss needs to be visited by death (is going to die).

Chigurh did not go to Carla Jean's mother's house to kill Carla Jean. He appeared there (as death) because she killed herself. That is why earlier in the movie Chigurh remarks to Moss, "It doesn't matter where she is". If Chigurh intended to set out and kill Carla Jean, why wouldn't it matter where she is? How would he find her? The reason Chigurh isn't concerned about finding Carla Jean is because death finds us all, one way or another.

Carla Jean returns from the funeral and sits at the dining room table. As she looks out the window, her look of sorrow and depression reflect her situation. She has no money. She has bills to pay. Her husband's death has left her a widow with no means of support. This is what runs through her mind as she sits at the table, and is brought to the screen for the viewers' benefit in her "conversation" with Chigurh. As she contemplates suicide Chigurh appears, their "conversation" is a metaphor for Carla Jean’s inner struggle as to whether to kill herself now or let her future existence be subject to rotten hand of cards she has been dealt (i.e fate). Chigurh is arguing for the latter, but loses the argument. She chooses to take her life now, at a time of her choosing (represented by her refusal to call the coin toss) rather than die later as a result of the fate her husband doomed her to, a lifetime of misery and poverty followed by death anyway. Carla Jean's testament of free will rocks Chigurh's world. All he can manage to say is "Call it" with more emphasis. She has upset "the rule he has followed". His rules are then symbolically killed in the car crash. Chigurh's rule set is killed but as death he is resurrected and continues on, walking down the street, passing into the tree of life, as death is and always will be a part of life. Death can never be killed.

Carla Jean’s lesson learned from Bell was that in the contest between man and steer, nothing is certain, a lesson she bequeaths to Chigurh. He learns it the hard way, losing the use of his arm, just as Charlie Walser had in his contest with the steer.

The fact that Chigurh left Carla Jean's house without a weapon is further indication her death came internally (i.e. by her own hand) and was not caused by an external force (typically depicted in the movie as Chigurh shooting someone, strangling someone, or striking someone with a vehicle or cattle gun). If Carla Jean died from something other than her own hand, Chigurh would have departed with a weapon.

Many people didn't like this movie. This is understandable if you saw the movie as a very interesting chase story set in western style, and then suffered a huge letdown when there was no final showdown between the apparent protagonist and the bad guy, the other good guy fails to nab the bad guy, the bad guy gets away, and then the ending leaves them flat. But that is not what this movie is about.

The movie is an allegory about death, how we see it (or don't), how we face it (Moss), how it comes to us, what control we have over it (Carla Jean), and how we value our own worth in the contemplation of it (Bell). What's truly genius about this movie is how the Coens relate this broader meaning into a very exciting chase story.

Chigurh is a symbol of death. His appearance, that fact that he rarely changes clothes, appears suddenly at places without explanation as to how he arrived all indicate an otherworldly presence. His odd dialog and philosophy make much more sense if you view him in this context. He is present at all on-screen deaths. Why? Because he’s a witness to death, but he’s not the cause of it. He's the grim reaper with shroud and scythe. He's death and he's there to take the person, but he's not the cause of the death.

Now to make the movie work as an allegory the Coens had to integrate Chigurh as a human into the chase story. That there were able to accomplish this is a testament to their filmmaking genius and the reason they won all the awards. This is why the Coens purposely showed several scenes to depict Chigurh with human qualities, suffering pain, mending his wounds, choking on a cashew etc. Otherwise the story becomes a fantasy with Chigurh as some sort of superhuman comic book character and the Coens didn't want that.

The moment where Bell pushes the motel room door open is the last moment of his life, he is blasted by Chigurh's shotgun as he stands in the doorway. Bell's double shadow is symbolic of his spirit leaving his body. The rest of the scene and his visit to Uncle Ellis represent Bell's transition into the afterlife. The tool (dime) being left on the floor, and not in Chigurh's pocket, indicates his task was not complete and Chigurh was interrupted by Bell's approach to the door.

Ultimately it doesn't matter where Chigurh was in the hotel room or at what point Bell's life ended. It’s like arguing about whether the boy saw one wolf or two in "The Boy who Cried Wolf". It’s a detail that regardless of its nature does not alter the broader meaning of the story the author is trying to relate.

The final two scenes with Bell represent his journey into the afterlife. The first, a visit to his dead uncle is a recounting of his failures in life and inability to deal with a world he thought was changing, only to be disillusioned further that it hasn't. As we ponder death do we not question our value in life? This is the conversation he relates to his dead uncle.

The final scene with Bell is also telling. The word "retired" is a euphemism for "dead". Moss was a retired welder, Carla Jean retired from WalMart, Wells a retired Army colonel, and the retired Uncle Ellis are all dead. Bell desires to remain with his wife, to go riding with her, but she says "I can't, I'm not retired (dead). Bells two dreams lament his life and his future. His father gave him some money and he lost it. His father passed down the legacy of a lawman and entrusted him to protect his people (Moss and his wife), a job he failed miserably at. The second dream relates his father movement into heaven as he goes ahead of Bell carrying the light and the warmth. Bell knows his father is waiting for him and wants to get there but can't. The fact that he wakes up before reaching his father, the warmth and the light, and is stuck in the dark and the cold, indicate Bell feels he isn't worthy to join his father.

The whole idea of Bell joining his father was foreshadowed in the comment Moss made to Carla Jean about his dead mother: "Well, then I'll tell her myself".

Moss was a thrill seeker who challenged death. He did not return to drug deal scene to bring the Mexican some water. He couldn't have cared less about this dying drug dealer, who most likely would have been dead when Moss returned anyway. That was just an excuse in his own mind to justify his return to the excitement of the hunt, of the chase. Moss was an unemployed welder who longed for the excitement of Vietnam, exemplified by his volunteering for a second tour of duty. He thought himself quite the hunter and tracker. Finding the money and running with it was the most excitement he had experienced since Vietnam.

When Carla Jean tells him she has a bad feeling about this Moss says: "Well I have a good one". He enjoyed it! Moss disregarded the warning of two guardian angels, the first being the black man who picked him up hitchhiking. The man warns Moss "You shouldn't be doing that". Why does Moss ask the man, who theoretically can't have any idea what Moss has been up to, to clarify what he meant? Because Moss suspects the man is talking about running with the money. Which of course he is. Moss ignores the warning.

The second angel Wells (note angel wings as he sits across from Chigurh) gives Moss an even more explicit warning to include the consequences of his actions, causing the death of both himself and his wife. Again, Moss rejects the advice but possibly changes his mind, sadly too late. The death of Wells, his disintegrated angels wings visible floating down as dust, signify the ultimate end for Moss. Then Chigurh's comment to Moss tells him that his guardian angel is no longer there to help him "Carson Wells is not here in the sense that you mean" and then right after, "You need to come see me", indicating that Moss needs to be visited by death (is going to die).

Chigurh did not go to Carla Jean's mother's house to kill Carla Jean. He appeared there (as death) because she killed herself. That is why earlier in the movie Chigurh remarks to Moss, "It doesn't matter where she is". If Chigurh intended to set out and kill Carla Jean, why wouldn't it matter where she is? How would he find her? The reason Chigurh isn't concerned about finding Carla Jean is because death finds us all, one way or another.

Carla Jean returns from the funeral and sits at the dining room table. As she looks out the window, her look of sorrow and depression reflect her situation. She has no money. She has bills to pay. Her husband's death has left her a widow with no means of support. This is what runs through her mind as she sits at the table, and is brought to the screen for the viewers' benefit in her "conversation" with Chigurh. As she contemplates suicide Chigurh appears, their "conversation" is a metaphor for Carla Jean’s inner struggle as to whether to kill herself now or let her future existence be subject to rotten hand of cards she has been dealt (i.e fate). Chigurh is arguing for the latter, but loses the argument. She chooses to take her life now, at a time of her choosing (represented by her refusal to call the coin toss) rather than die later as a result of the fate her husband doomed her to, a lifetime of misery and poverty followed by death anyway. Carla Jean's testament of free will rocks Chigurh's world. All he can manage to say is "Call it" with more emphasis. She has upset "the rule he has followed". His rules are then symbolically killed in the car crash. Chigurh's rule set is killed but as death he is resurrected and continues on, walking down the street, passing into the tree of life, as death is and always will be a part of life. Death can never be killed.

Carla Jean’s lesson learned from Bell was that in the contest between man and steer, nothing is certain, a lesson she bequeaths to Chigurh. He learns it the hard way, losing the use of his arm, just as Charlie Walser had in his contest with the steer.

The fact that Chigurh left Carla Jean's house without a weapon is further indication her death came internally (i.e. by her own hand) and was not caused by an external force (typically depicted in the movie as Chigurh shooting someone, strangling someone, or striking someone with a vehicle or cattle gun). If Carla Jean died from something other than her own hand, Chigurh would have departed with a weapon.