The Road

Three years ago, I read Cormac McCarthy's book The Road.  Last night, I watched the film.  Both are dark works in literature and film; our challenge as readers and viewers is to see the light in the darkness.  Here is what I wrote three years ago in my book review:

"On the one hand, a very simple book. Easy to read. Another example of Mr. McCarthy's penchant for word efficiency. A nameless father and his nameless son walk a nameless road headed south to escape the cold and 'the bad guys' that are characteristic of McCarthy's stark, post-apocalyptic world. More significantly, I could not put the book down and it is difficult to explain why. This is a story of the human heart and its ability to love and survive against all odds when it has been stripped of everything save the very object of its love. My heart wept when I read the final page, put the book on my nightstand and turned off the light."

I stand by that review of the book, and I credit the film makers for capturing the same message of love that poured from the pages of the book.  To say The Road is an enjoyable film is to say Mel Gibson's Passion is an enjoyable film.  Neither is, but each packs a powerful message that is important to everyone.  Last week, I watched Jeff Bridges' Academy Award performance in Crazy Heart.  I thought the film was okay, and I did appreciate Mr. Bridges' performance.  Still, I found Viggo Mortensen's portrayal of the unamed father in The Road far more compelling.