THE ROAD

Probably it was our fault, man's nuclear folly. Or maybe not, maybe it was some massive cosmic accident. Apocalypse's cause is never mentioned, because all that matters now is the enduring effect – a frigid world of ashen snow where the sun never shines, where all is withered and no birds sing. Such bleak surroundings are not unique to Cormac McCarthy's novel, but what he does with them is. The Road is essentially a love story, as stripped of sentimentality as the landscape is shorn of green, yet an extraordinary love story nonetheless – powerful and poignant and, even in the midst of hope's imminent extinction, hopeful too. What's more, like No Country for Old Men, the measured sparseness of the book cries out for a screen adaptation. Director John Hillcoat's answer to that cry is largely faithful to the text and skillfully evocative of the horrific setting. The visuals here are chillingly sparse…There are survivors, among them the Man and the Boy. Wrapped in filthy raiments, our pair of pilgrims pick their way through the detritus. At times, the Man shoots to kill, prompting the Boy to wonder, “Are we still the good guys?” The answer lies in the abiding love between parent and child, and in the impeccable work of the two principal actors. A gaunt Viggo Mortensen is the thin embodiment of resolve, clinging against all odds to his faith in the future – not his own future but his son's. Yet the Man learns from the Boy too, and, thanks to a hauntingly muted performance from young Kodi Smit-McPhee, this lesson transcends the others: that the toughness life demands does not preclude the tenderness it needs; that, even in overwhelming darkness, the flame of human decency must, and can, still be carried. All this is superbly lifted off the page and brought to the screen. --The Globe and Mail