No. It would be foolish to ask for luxuries during times like these.

Times like these represent a post-apocalyptic world where, for reasons never explained, civilization and most of every living creature has been wiped out; a world where forests and cities and mountains have been replaced by a grey barren landscape littered with dead trees; a world where the earth itself seems to grow impatient with the sound of footsteps, often starting fires and creating earthquakes in order to rid itself of any intrusion; a world where the last remnants of man roam in cannibalistic gangs hunting for food.

At first glance this may not sound like the kind of cinematic experience you’re looking for during the holidays. Not with glib Victorian-era detectives and CGI’d Smurfs to choose from. But director John Hillcoat’s spellbinding, emotionally moving, and frequently terrifying adaptation of Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer Prize winning “The Road” is, at least in spirit, richly rewarding and therefore perfect for this time of year. This is the rare film about something that matters.

Man (Viggo Mortensen) and Boy (Kodi Smit-McPhee) push a shopping cart down an empty road framed by tall, bare trees swaying in a wind that makes an unholy sound. Both are filthy, exhausted, constantly threatened by cannibals, always hungry, and father and son.  They head south towards the coast never knowing what’s around the corner. One day it could be marauders, the next a stash of non-perishable food. Why they’re headed in this direction doesn’t matter. What matters is what father teaches son along the way: “Keep the fire.”

That fire is our own humanity.

Man fully understands that Boy might very well lose his life on the road. But no matter how desperate things get Man will never let his son lose what makes him human. A revolver, a few rounds, and what it takes to press the barrel against the boy’s forehead will ensure that. A species of human might well survive this holocaust, a predatory species all too willing to feast on its own. But for Man that’s not enough. Humanity must survive or nothing means anything, and so at all costs he preserves this in his boy.  

Mortensen delivers an Oscar-worthy performance as a decent, everyday man bearing the unspeakable sadness of losing his wife (Charlize Thereon) and charged with guarding the most precious and fragile part of his son, even if he must make the ultimate sacrifice to do so. As a young boy coming of age in Hell, 12 year-old Smit-McPhee is startlingly good using none of those child actor affectations that have been all the rage these last ten years. In her small but pivotal role, Theron’s excellent as a mother unable to deal with bringing a child into a world with no future other than deprivation. Two other supporting roles are memorably handled but I won’t name names and spoil the pleasant surprise I felt when they arrived.

Thanks to two remarkable lead performances and the measured, steady tone Hillcoat perfectly calibrates and never let’s get away from him, almost immediately you’re emotionally invested in the narrative and the plight of its characters. Most effective are heart-rending flashbacks involving the tragedy of Theron’s character. The sense of loss that hangs over every unremittingly bleak frame lingers long after the credits roll.

The spell Hillcoat casts from the opening scene to the last also lingers. And what a pleasure it is these days to be completely drawn into a film without ever once being awkwardly snapped out of it by some clumsy narrative misstep. The beautifully desolate locations and seamless CGI imagery are as crucial to that success as anything.

Most everything Hollywood produces these days seems to be overloaded with eye-popping imagery in the hopes we’ll forget how barren and empty the characters and story are. Part “Fires on the Plain,” part ”Bicycle Thief,” but all Cormac McCarthy, the despairing wastelands of “The Road” might be barren but the characters and the message they carry is anything but. While not for children, this bleak but affecting story of the hope found in a father’s abiding love and, most importantly, faith in his only son, is not only a beautifully produced reminder of what’s important this time of year, it’s also one of the best films of the year.

“The Road” is the dark post-apocalyptic journey of an unnamed man (Viggo Mortensen) and his young son (Kodi Smit-McPhee) as they travel from desolate, dangerous middle America toward the east coast. They hope to find remnants of civilized life there and to recreate what they lost in the mysterious unnamed cataclysm—probably a nuclear war—that left the world lifeless. Lifeless, that is, except for roving bands of cannibals and a few other pilgrims, like them, who search for some semblance of the past.

 The film is directed by John Hillcoat and adapted by Joe Penhall from Cormac McCarthy’s Pulitzer Prize-winning novel. While not a classically scary film, I still sat on the edge of my seat for the entire 119 minutes. “Bad guys” rarely appear, but the knowledge that at any point cannibals could find the protagonists is disconcerting, and by the end of the film I was emotionally drained from the tense world in which the man and the boy live.

Much like McCarthy’s other work adapted for the screen, “No Country for Old Men,” a sense of hopelessness pervades this film. Early on, a roving band forces Mortensen to use one of his last two bullets—bullets presumably being saved for a desperate murder-suicide when hope finally runs out. From there, the run-ins with cannibals and a few other travelers never end happily. At best the encounters are bleak. Even at the end of “The Road,” hope for the future is tempered by the chilling terrors of the past, and the knowledge that further horrors await.

Color contributes heavily to this hopelessness. There is hardly any color, only varying shades of gray. The first real color the audience sees is red blood. Aside from the blood, color in the film typically differentiates the warmth of life before the cataclysm and life on the road. Key moments of bliss are highlighted with color. When the man and the boy stumble upon a farm with a stocked cellar of canned goods, the colors of the cans of food are what stick out.

The film’s overriding message deals with paternal love. The man says that he sees God in his son. It is his son that sustains him, gives him hope, gives him a reason to persevere to the coast. His love forces him to be candid with his son, so that when the boy is alone he can still survive. He can still “carry the fire.” The film’s website notes that, “to the boy, that is a process of staying the course.”

Mortensen said that “any parent that cares about their kid has these feelings, these doubts, these fears, these concerns. … What’s going to happen when I’m gone?” The message of love, of the passing of the torch, between a father and son is important and well portrayed, and it is this message that prompts the filmmakers to argue that it ends positively.

But beneath this uplifting message is a much bleaker one, and it is this subtler message that left me feeling hopeless at the end, despite the pseudo-happy ending. The film paints a picture of a God who either doesn’t exist, or doesn’t care. The man does not believe in God, though early scenes show him in church with his wife. While he has reason to be bitter for what happened to his wife (she despairs and leaves him, presumably to die alone), the film fails to contrast him with anyone who has kept the faith despite hardships, which churches and individuals around the world prove is possible. This singular view of God as an unknowable, potentially non-existent being, removes any chance at real hope in this world. And while the man still has a god—his son—viewers do not have the same faith in him.

This bleak worldview keeps intimate scenes from feeling truly natural. The film prompts pity, not sorrow, for the boy as he arms himself with his father’s gun and prepares for the future. Even quality acting can’t overcome this message.

“The Road” brings the central question of human existence to the forefront of our minds, but fails to answer it. When you take away everything, what is left to live for? The man lives for his son, his god. It rings empty. Hope cannot be placed solely in the next generation. It must be placed in something greater. If it is, life’s road is not so lonely, or so long.