A Serious Man (USA, 2009, Joel and Ethan Coen)
Ostensibly the Coen brothers most personal film, as it is set in their hometown of Minneapolis in the era of their childhood (there is some confusion about the exact date, as many commentators have set the date as 1967, yet there are references, such as that to the release of Santana's Abraxas, which indicate we are leaning up against 1970), A Serious Man is much more than a memoir. It is a multi-layered tragi-comedy that struggles with issues such as one's obligations towards one's family and community, as well as questions of faith and reason. More importantly, A Serious Man challenges head on some pretty big issues, including the meaning of it all. As with The Man Who Wasn't There, which likewise dug into the existential crisis that is the despair of the modern man, A Serious Man does all of this with a typically perverse Coen Brother's mix of humour and anxiety.Theatre veteran Michael Stuhlbarg, who is note-perfect in this cinematic breakthrough performance, plays protagonist Larry Gopnik as if he is in a perpetual state of agonized befuddlement. He is a man of mathematics and physics, teaching the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle and the paradox of Schrödinger’s cat, who must admit he doesn't really understand the stories that illustrate the principles he teaches. It is an early sign that Larry's logically ordered universe will soon cease to be as predictable as it once promised to be. Gopnik appears to be living the American Dream, with a wife and 2 children, a job in academia, and a nice house in the suburbs. Yet, it is all beginning to unravel. His wife Judith is leaving him for family friend and shmoozy schmuck, Sy Abelman, he is up for tenure just as a failing Asian student attempts to bribe him (and later tries to blackmail him), his daughter is stealing from him, and his 13 year old son is smoking grass. On top of it all, some damned representative from the Columbia Record Club will not stop hassling him at work. Oy vey.
As Larry looks for answers to this confusion about this disintegrating state of affairs, he is met with even more confusion. Casting about him for help, Gopnik seeks advice from his spiritual leaders, but in the end he catches nothing. If he is not baffled by the torment of his unemployed brother (Richard Kind), who is either brilliant or mad, a burden to Larry who carries this dual cross around like a massive boil on his shoulders, he is listening to stories and advice from three rabbis, leaders in his community who provide little comfort or insight into life's deeper meanings because, much like the film's brilliant prologue, their open-ended tales are nearly impossible to parse. Are they The Chosen people because there is an eternal curse upon them? As the words to Somebody to Love remind us repetitively, "When the truth is found to be lies, and all hope within you dies"...then what? Does the universe have it out for the Jews? "What have I done?" moans Larry. You don't have to do a thing, Larry. You just have to be.
Paralleling the father's story is that of the son, Danny (Aaron Wolff) a boy who is attempting to find his own place in this alien world as a near-13 year old Jewish boy in the mid-west who listens to rock and roll, smokes weed and watches F-Troop on TV while simultaneously attending Hebrew school in preparation for his bar mitzvah. Like his father, Danny feels out of place. He struggles with his sense of alienation like a junior Hamlet: Things feel out of joint. Yet, the scope of Danny's search is considerably more limited, focusing primarily upon his attempts to retrieve his transistor radio from the clutches of Rabbi Marshak. Still, like his father, Danny lives in a hostile world, where Job-like he endures the blows and buffets of misfortune.
The film is, as one would expect from a Coen film, an impeccable production. The period detail (despite the uncertainty about the setting's specific date) without flaw, and there is never a moment when we are taken out of the moment by unfortunate anachronism or moments of post-modern self-congratulation.
The film's punchline, which emerges after Danny gains admittance into his Jewish community through the bar mitzvah ceremony, and he is able to gain remittance of his transistor radio, while Gopnik begins to actually believe that there is some hope, as he provides some succor to his brother and his quest for tenure appears to be secured, is the Coens final reminder that the universe is a wild and unpredictable place which appears to seek to balance.
A Serious Man raises a lot of questions about how we should approach life or search for meaning in turbulent times. The equation of the film's setting with our own times is worth examining, as the Coens develop connections between the stories of the father and son in the same way that they want us to identify parallels between life in the late 60s with the uncertainty of our contemporary lives. Whether the film's final shot is a cynical desparate scream into the abyss, or, like so much of the instruction that has preceded it, yet another uncontrollable, open-ended development, is an interpretation left entirely up to the audience. As it should be.
In closing, here is the film's trailer.


3 comments:
Why, yes, that certainly is a matter of interpretation: "A cynical desperate scream into the abyss, or, like so much of the instruction that has preceded it, yet another uncontrollable, open-ended development" - what IS the meaning of the film's final shot? I sure as shit don't know Sherlock because the damn DVD froze up! Don't even know if I saw the film's final shot or not. Made it to Danny outdoors just about to pay back the bully pot salesman as the tornado threatens. Nothing else, no credits, that's it, game over, shoot me. When I find the guy who lent me this disc...
Then - Ben
WHAT? "Much like the film's brilliant prologue" - what prologue? I didn't see any prologue.
I'm telling you, when I find the guy who lent me this disc...
Then - Ben
OK, the guy who lent me this disc gave me another copy, so now I've seen the prologue, the very final scene of the film and the credits too. Huzah!
A Serious Man is a lot funnier than you make it out to be. I laughed a lot watching it. As much as I have enjoyed most of their work over the years, I have long felt that the Coens were too cynical for my taste. In order for me to get over this, I savour their sense of humor and try to ignore their pessimism about human nature. They tend to show people at their worst and they tend to be pretty darn hilarious in the process. At the end of the day, I reckon for all of their cinematic and narrative chops, theirs is basically a slap-stick mentality; i.e., our suffering is a joke because we bring it on ourselves. Oh yeah, almost forgot, also because God has forsaken us. Hello Hebrew!
The whole Hebrew thing in A Serious Man was actually kinda confusing for me. Although I was not brought up with any religious faith, I am a Jew by historical accident and retain certain cultural features associated with the tribe. And similar to the Coens, I grew up in the mid-West of the North American continent only a few years later than they did. Their film, Fargo, still one of their very best, really resonated with me, what with it being set in North Dakota just below Saskatchewan where I was raised. A Serious Man, on the other hand, is for me very weird. The presentation of a suburban neighborhood in a mid-Western town jam-packed with Jews and nothing but - what? And the wider community is just the same; the children's school, the father's place of work, the doctor (OK, fair enough), the lawyer (alright already); but seriously, where are the Goyim?
I guess their almost absolute absence is part of the joke in A Serious Man. Even so, it seems to me that the film draws much of its tone of alienation from the location of the shtetl in a larger non-Jewish urban environment that is never actually implicated in the proceedings. Makes me wonder how fundamental the Jewish elements are to the film insofar as they are presented in a ridiculous ahistorical abstraction.
Or should I just stay tuned to the obvious point that A Serious Man is the Book of Job as experienced by people eating Cap'n Crunch in the heartland? On this score I have to say that unlike Job, who has the balls to question God, Larry Gopnik is a spineless putz with whom I found it impossible to identify. I think this is a weakness in the film and I will venture to propose that it derives from the Coen's cynicism. There is no actual STRUGGLE in their story. Gopnik suffers, perhaps even unfairly, but who cares? His existential pain is jive. It registers on him superficially. The Coens slapstick sensibility renders what is ultimately a schtick clown instead of a substantive character about whom we care because he has some fight in him.
Post a Comment