A Serious Man

The Coen brothers never cease to amaze me. It’s just incredible and wonderful to see a directorial duo with such a distinct and unique cinematic voice, yet who still manage to re-invent themselves with every subsequent film. Just these past three years they went from a gritty, dark, dramatic crime-thriller (“No Country for Old Men”), the likes of which they hadn’t made since their first film in 1984, “Blood Simple” (“Fargo” was injected with far more humor than the two aforementioned films), to a hilarious, over-the-top espionage spoof comedy with an all-star cast (“Burn After Reading”), to their latest, “A Serious Man”; a deeply personal and philosophical family dramedy lacking both in recognizable film stars and in murder plots or any of a wide assortment of other genre filmmaking staples that have characterized the Coen’s oeuvre throughout their careers. It is really the only film of theirs I can think of that isn’t overly stylized and actually attempts to exist in the real world, although it is obviously a skewed version of the world as seen through the Coen brothers’ eyes; so many elements come into play during the film, from their own childhood memories of being on the verge of adolescence in the suburban Northwest in 1970, to their Judaism and what that faith meant to them then, and now. And due to all this content and subtext, ideas and themes, the film also becomes what may be their most cerebral one yet.

It is certainly an odd bird of a film. The Coens start it off with a pre-credits stand-alone short depicting an old fable of a Jewish couple being visited on a cold, winter’s night by a Rabbi who may or may not have died three years prior; in classic Coen style, when the brothers couldn’t find an existing fable that fit what they wanted to tell, they made one up and wrote it entirely in Yiddish no less. Afterwards the actual film begins and the connection between the Yiddish short and the 1970’s-set story is never really made apparent. The story launches us into an intricate world constructed partly of memory and partly of historic events, a stylized version of the Coen brothers’ childhoods if you will; rich with period detail but also with more dream-like imagery. The story itself is highly allegorical. Larry Gopnik finds the American dream falling apart around him. His brother is a mathematical genius but is also a sociopath and a slob who sleeps on Larry’s couch and constantly finds himself being brought home by police officers for illegal gambling. His son is rebellious and disrespectful, smoking marijuana and listening to Jefferson Airplane and Santana on a transistor radio while in Hebrew class. His wife leaves him for his best friend. And all the while, Larry tries (and ultimately, pretty much fails) to understand why all this is happening to him. Is it the world that is changing around him? Or has he done something wrong? Is it his drifting away from his faith? Perhaps it is he who is unfaithful to his wife, gawking at his promiscuous neighbor from his vantage point on the roof of his house while she sunbathes? Is he letting his son slip away, or is his rebellion simply the natural evolution of American culture at the time, drifting away from faith and values and tradition and plugging into the pop culture information stream. The film raises these questions and many more, and doesn’t seem particularly interested in providing answers for them. Rather, it tries to craft an understanding of the period and of the culture, perhaps to indicate the huge gap between where things were then and where they are now.

This brings me to one of if not the most important themes the film deals with: its characters’ Judaism. I’m sure that many people from all creeds and faiths can enjoy the film’s style and its philosophical ruminations, but I do think that, as a Jewish person myself, and furthermore as one who has had personal experience with the Jewish Community in the United States and what it symbolizes and entails, its values and traditions – I may have gotten a little extra something out of the film, seen it on another level. As the plot develops events start to become odder and odder and subsequently more and more symbolic and allegorical in terms of what the characters are going through, dabbing primarily in themes of fate. Two freakish car accidents occur at the same time; one leads to death but in the other, Larry is spared. Why? And is if even a good thing that his miserable life didn’t just end right there. Later, Larry is visited by a spiritual personification of the victim of the other crash. Is this a visit by a dybbuk – a spirit come to life according to Jewish folklore – and does it curse Larry? Or perhaps the couple seen in the prologue being visited by a dybbuk themselves are Larry’s ancestors, and he was already cursed from the get-go. Does Larry control his actions and his fate, or has everything been pre-determined for him? The question of fate is one that comes up often in discussions about faith and religion; a man could lead the most secular life and have only good things come to him, while another man could devote himself to God and find his life plagued with tragedy. The Coens seem quite interested in what this means in terms of man’s relationship with God, and how faith influences a man’s life. There also seems to be some harsh criticism against the organized religious Jewish establishment: Throughout the course of the film Larry visits three Rabbis seeking advice, each one symbolizing a different generation. The young Rabbi is obviously completely out of touch with the Jewish tradition and faith, and doesn’t even know what Larry is talking about when he mentions that his wife wants a “Get” (a traditional Jewish divorce). The second, middle-aged Rabbi tells Larry a long and convoluted allegorical tale that seemingly has no point whatsoever. And the third Rabbi, representing the elder generation rooted in tradition and custom, won’t even see him. What this means about the Coen’s opinion about the establishments and higher authorities of organized religion, one can only assume.

I’ve gone on about the film’s themes and ideas and haven’t even mentioned its technical elements, which are definitely worth bringing up. After a one-film gap the Coens are back with their regular cinematographer, Roger Deakins, and the return to form is quite apparent. “Burn After Reading” was shot by Emmanuel Lubezski, another one of my favorite working cinematographers but whose work on that Coen film was pretty generic; the visual language in “A Serious Man” just emphasizes the great rapport the directors and Deakins have acquired over the years. It’s a highly stylized and gorgeously shot film, featuring the Coen’s usual style of a constantly moving camera with many smooth dollies and crane shots, and also Deakins style of indirect lighting and asymmetrical but aesthetic compositions, and all of it combined serves to create a uniquely rich visual style that has come to be identified with and be expected of the Coens. I have recently pointed out a trend in the form of the “indie period drama”, independently-produced films with an indie aesthetic (and budget) which are nonetheless rich in period detail and accuracy. A good number of them this year have been set in the 1960’s, interestingly enough, and as expected from the Coens (who are no strangers to period settings), the details in the set design, costumes, cars, language, behavior and everything are exceedingly accurate and detailed. Also worth mentioning are the fantastic performances. As I mentioned before, the film lacks the heavy star-power that has characterized many previous Coen efforts, but the cast is still packed with familiar faces audiences have seen in the background on TV and elsewhere, who really get a chance to shine here. Particularly worthy of note is Michael Stuhlbarg, who completely embodies the role of the neurotic protagonist whose world is crumbling around him. Topping it all off is yet another effective and memorable musical score/recurring theme (as it often is in their films) by Carter Burwell, the Coen’s most loyal and frequent collaborator.

“When the truth is found to be lies / and all the joy within you dies / don’t you want somebody to love / don’t you need somebody to love?” Thus goes the classic Jefferson Airplane song that serves as a recurring motif throughout the film, and I think it pretty much sums up, albeit very simply, what the film is really about. Larry perhaps finds out that the truth he has believed in all his life, invested his faith and tradition in, is not what it seems. Judaism has let him down, specifically his community’s leadership, and all he wants is somebody to love. But his brother is a degenerate. His wife left him. His neighbor seduces him but he knows that it’s not love. His son is a lost cause and drifting very rapidly away from him; his daughter is already long gone. What’s left for him to do? “I’ve tried to be a serious man,” he pleads. By that he doesn’t mean someone who is humorless, but rather, the term refers to someone who is serious about his Jewish faith and about allowing that faith to guide their life. But he is let down, time and time again, and finds himself lost and delirious and jaded. The film’s quite abrupt and startling ending further emphasizes that nobody, especially not Larry, can stop the storm that is about to sweep over his life, and mo matter how he’s led it, how much he’s invested in his faith, his culture his tradition, his values – all of it is meaningless in the ever-changing seas of the world that surrounds us.