At the end of Love and Death (1975) Woody Allen concludes that if God exists, while he may not be evil, he could be termed an underachiever. The Coen Brothers seem less inclined to let the Old Boy off so lightly in their very dark comedy A Serious Man—a work that searches for meaning in a life seemingly devoid of meaning, except for the possibility that God (or “Hashem” as he’s called in the Jewish faith) doesn’t like the life. The life in question belongs to Larry Gopnick (stage actor Michael Stuhlbarg), and the film charts what can only be called his descent into an increasingly mystifying personal hell.
A Serious Man offers the appearance of being drawn from the Coens’ own childhood. It’s set in suburban Minneapolis in 1967 and is awash in the details of that period. Is it autobiographical? Seemingly it isn’t in any specific way, but the film is more interested in posing questions than answering them, so even if it were autobiographical, I doubt the Coens would tell us. Let’s just say that this 1967 modern-day variant on the Book of Job is informed by their childhood, and leave it at that. And while the film is very specifically Jewish, there’s a universal quality to it all in its depiction of the time in which the story takes place.
Starting with a strange, possibly connected prologue set in a shtetl where a man (Allen Lewis Rickman) inadvertently invites what may or may not be a dybbuk (Fyvush Finkel) into his home, thereby possibly ensuring the doom of his wife (Yelena Schmulenson) and himself—the film then moves to Larry Gopnick’s story. We meet Larry in his seemingly normal life. He has a job as a physics professor, a wife, Judith (Sari Lennick), two kids, Danny (Aaron Wolff) and Sarah (Jessica McManus), and a bland house in suburbia—right down to the screen door with the family initial festooning its aluminum frame. Everything is as standard and as tacky as 1967 could be. Only nothing is right.
Larry’s wife is leaving him for another man, Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed), and wants Larry to move into the Jolly Roger Motel. Tenure at his job is threatened by anonymous letters. His son is a pothead who has signed up with the Columbia House Record Club under his father’s name and runs up a bill (this is so 1967). His daughter steals money for a nose job. His brother Arthur (Richard Kind) has moved in and seems disinclined to leave—even if it means staying at the Jolly Roger. To make matters worse, Sy Ableman wants to be friends with him, the woman next door wants to have sex with him, and the neighbor on the other side of his house are anti-Semitic rednecks. Oh, yes, there’s also a failed Korean student who is trying to both bribe him for a better grade and destroy him at the same time.
Not surprisingly, Larry goes to his spiritual leaders seeking some kind of answer as to why all this is happening to him and what it means. This proves of no value whatsoever. There’s no profundity to be found there and even less comfort. The most profound thing in the film—and it’s hardly comforting—comes in the form of rock lyrics. It is significant that these lyrics appear several times in the film, but Larry never hears them (except maybe in a dream). Where is all this leading? Well, mostly it leads to ever-bleaker comedy and the posing of more questions of the sort that are good for discussion long after the movie is over—and none of which should really be addressed until you see the film.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about A Serious Man stems from its sense of being a personal work—to an almost alarming degree. It’s one thing that the Coens have made the film for no other reason than because they wanted to—and they’ve done so because they could. It’s something else again that they’ve ended up with a movie that doesn’t court your favor. In short, A Serious Man simply doesn’t care whether or not you like it—and a lot of people won’t like it. (I’m a bit surprised by the number of people who don’t “get” the ending, though.) In part, I think that’s exactly why I do like it: The “take it or leave it” attitude is refreshing. Rated R for language, some sexuality/nudity and brief violence.
What rock lyrics are you referring to “Somebody to Love”? I liked the little touches of referencing like the Tuckman/Mash shout out and the “No Jews Were Harmed During The Making Of This Film”. What do you think this film says about Judiasm in reference to that age old Phillip Roth question “Is it good for the Jews”. After watching this film i almost felt i was cursed myself.
What rock lyrics are you referring to “Somebody to Love”?
That’s the only one that occurs several times in the film — and really, the opening lyrics pretty much do sum up the film.
What do you think this film says about Judiasm in reference to that age old Phillip Roth question “Is it good for the Jews”.
Are you asking if Judaism is good for the Jews or if the film is? Either question seems perfectly reasonable.
What do you think they prologue said about the rest of the film?
Excuse me what do you think THE prologue says about the rest of the film?
Excuse me what do you think THE prologue says about the rest of the film?
Without saying too much, I think it mostly sets the tone and plants the idea that sets up the most bitter joke of all. It may also be a commentary that there’s not much difference between superstitious peasants and modern suburban dwellers. Or could it be that Larry’s brother is really a dybbuk?
This is, as far as I’m concerned, a horror film. I was honestly terrified by it.
It’s hard to imagine the Coen’s of the last half decade or so making the Hudsucker Proxy or Raising Arizona.
This is, as far as I’m concerned, a horror film. I was honestly terrified by it
Well, that’s not an unreasonable assessment.
It’s hard to imagine the Coen’s of the last half decade or so making the Hudsucker Proxy or Raising Arizona
While I would just as soon not imagine them making Raising Arizona (I have never understood its appeal), I’m not sure I find their last three films (I’m assuming you aren’t including The Ladykillers) especially more bleak than Blood Simple or Barton Fink or even The Man Who Wasn’t There.
You know, I went back and forth on The Ladykillers. But The Ladykillers is pretty bleak. The closest thing it has to an “up” not is when a black woman donating stolen money to racist institution.
Blood Simple, I thought, had a Shakespearean sort of quality. When Hamlet ends, good people have died, yes, but all of them were tainted in some way by the proceedings, and the final note is one of continuity. Abby’s survival is much the same in Blood Simple. I could make similar cases for all there other movies.
It’s a matter of degrees, sure. But it seems to me that there has been a slight movement from “the universe is a fickle, dangerous place” to “the universe is actively cruel and irrational.” In that sense these last three flicks seem to be of a piece.
When the truth is found to be lies
And all the joy within you dies
Don’t you want somebody to love?
I just finished this film. A near perfect film, about the search for meaning, the search for answers. I was reminded of the story of Job in the Bible. I have to say, I was moved. Excellent film.