A Serious Man: Kafka in Minneapolis

I saw A Serious Man on Wednesday and I still get chills when I think about the ending. It's unfortunate that such a beautiful and frightening moment was ruined by the guy sitting next to me when he loudly and angrily exclaimed, "Goddamit they did it again." I assume this was in reference to NCFOM but possibly Barton Fink as well.

That scene where he climbs onto the roof is interesting on so many levels. In addition to some of the sound elements that you mentioned, I also noticed that it seems to clash and draw attention to itself on a visual level. I thought there seemed to be a fairly recurring circular motif throughout the movie (large round owl eyes appear on more than one occasion) but the scene as he climbs atop the house is full of straight lines and sharp angles; the ladder, the angles of the roof itself and of course, the antenna. As nearly always with the Coens, this was just an impressive piece of filmmaking.

I assume that this won't be your only post on ASM (especially since there's so much to talk about!) and I look forward to hopefully a lengthy discussion of this amazing film.

"I know there are those who insist that the Coens aren't serious, that their vision consists only of scorn and ridicule. "

The same has been said about Wilder and Altman, although I seldom felt so devastated after a film as after "Kiss me, stupid".

I guess there is a way of looking at the world that some people just do not understand and then often refer to as "cynical". But that label just doesn't fit if it is supposed to mean an emotional and intellectual detachment, a smug superiority.

But then again, I never really understood the moral world of (most of) John Ford's Films either. I can appreciate them at a certain artistic level but that world just isn't mine.

Accept the mystery.

I'm curious to know your interpretation of the ending. You hint that it expresses their worldview, and if that's the case, what is that?

SPOILERS

Because I read it...not quite as scorn, but certainly as some sort of cosmic joke, that after all Larry had not done, he was finally being rewarded - his potential tenure was looking good, and his wife was slowly coming back to him.

Then...and the sequence of events isn't totally clear in my mind (I'm aching to see it again), but as I recall, he gets the notice for the attorney's fee, considers the cash Clive gave him, and changes the F grade to a C-. Not even an A, just enough to pass him.

And then the doctor calls with what sounds like very bad news (cleared the entire afternoon to give it to him) and a tornado quickly approaches to kill his son.

I can't help but see something of a joke in there. Not scorn, perhaps, but certainly reaffirming that, much as Larry may make small struggles to improve his life, there is absolutely nothing he can do to save it.

It also goes back to the emptiness of parables, both in the one of the goy's teeth and Larry's own inability to understand Schrödinger's cat. The film feels very structured as a parable, and the opening sets it up that way, but I think the ending purposefully denies it any sort of grand relevance, or much in the way of a lesson.

END SPOILERS

But yeah, I'm not 100% sure it's the movie of the year for me, but it may end up that way. I'm still wrestling with it, and, as I said, aching to see it again. My favorite thing they've done since Barton Fink.

JE: (Spoilers resume!) I read it pretty much the way you do, and there's lots of room for interpretation -- as there always is in stories and parables. These last two scenes are intercut the way the first two were -- between Larry and Danny. Larry is in the office this time, but Danny is back in the classroom with his transistor radio. Arlen Finkle, the diagonal in Larry's doorway, has congratulated him on Danny's bar mitzvah (a success, despite the odds!) and hinted (he can't quite say it) that Larry will be pleased with the decision of the tenure committee. Danny is trying to get the 20 bucks back to Fagle. The world is about to find balance. Debts will be paid, justice will be done, things will work out. And then... the phone call from the doctor (we, and Larry, have forgotten all about that opening scene by now -- the doc said he was perfectly healthy right after the exam) and the tornado, with the shul teacher fumbling with the keys to the basement door. The movie ends as it began, with no guarantees. Everything is transitory, like the weather (which, we realize, has been benign, mostly blue skies up to now). Happiness, misery -- maybe Rabbi Nachtner's tale of the goy's teeth was right. No matter what it is, it will pass. Yes, I find this ending -- the gestalt of it -- almost unbearably poignant. But the emotional impact comes from the sound and the light -- the darkness outside Larry's office window and the patter of the rain on the glass. The wind and the flag and the blackness of the tornado outside the Hebrew school, with Fagle positioned between Danny and the funnel cloud. The eeriness of the silence on the phone when the doctor says he's cleared some time for Larry "now." The dread -- the diagnosis, the tornado -- is here NOW -- or just a few minutes from now. And that's where the movie leaves us, with everything bearing down on us (and Larry) and nothing resolved. Larry -- he's done nothing, and at this point there's nothing he can do. It's too late to change anything, and who could have forseen these events? (But nobody's playing the blame game here, Larry. Not at Embers.) Again, it's back to the "Barton Fink" box -- and, to pull in a Robert Towne/Polanski reference (this movie and "Barton Fink" are the Coens' most Polanski-like) from "Chinatown": "You may think you know what you're dealing with, but believe me you don't." Or maybe you do. But until you open the box, Schrödinger's cat exists in two states simultaneously as a projection, or an assumption about the future. That's a way of viewing, and understanding how we experience living in, the world...

After seeing A Serious Man and An Education back-to-back, I find that the term "movie of the year" or a list of ranked movies at the end of the year is pretty meaningless. How can I say which is better? The visual splendor of Bright Star. The sheer entertainment value of Inglourious Basterds. The subtle philosophical treatise of Goodbye Solo. The haunting (and comic) image of a man dragging his house on his back in Up. A richly personal comedy of despair and a trenchant tale of women in the 1960s. All great movies. All best of the year. I have no idea which one is better than which, and frankly, I don't want to attempt to put them in competition against each other. I will just have my list in no particular order and wish that my favorite critics do the same.

On A Serious Man, David Denby, in the New Yorker, I believe, seemed to have had the exact opposite reaction than you. He found the movie needlessly cruel and indicative of the Coens' bleak worldwiew. I found the movie the most humanizing and warm of all of the films that I have seen of theirs.

JE: From this we can deduce that I am a better Jew AND a better physicist than David Denby, although I am neither. That's why I worded that paragraph the way I did. I was speaking about a personal, emotional connection, not just as a critic.

"It's not the first Coen finish that has stunned me to tears ("Miller's Crossing," "Fargo," "NCFOM" -- even "Barton Fink," for the perfect beauty of the moment)."

I just found that "even" to be a bit out of place, as if ending of "Barton Fink" could be anything other than stunning. To me the finish of "Fink" is a paragon of the stunning ending that so many films try to achieve and which so few actually accomplish. To say that I was awestruck at the end of "Fink" is a supreme understatement; I was breathless. I am not sure if any film has had such a powerful and prefect resonance with me with respect to the magical moment the exists from the last shot of the film to the black before the credits roll (NCFOM comes close though).

After reading your this post,"A Serious Man" has moved up to the film I am most excited to see for the rest of 2009. If your intention was to share your contagious excitement for the new film by the Coens, mission accomplished.

JE: I don't recall actually being moved to tears by the ending of "Barton Fink" -- but I was absolutely blown away by the postcard image: Barton and the box, the girl, the sun, the beach, the ocean... and that pelican. Read my "Barton Fink" interview I linked to -- J&E talk about their extraordinary luck with birds. Today you'd just assume it was CGI.

I haven't had the chance to see "A Serious Man" yet. It has yet to come to my neck of the woods, needless to say, I'll be in line to see it opening night. The Coens have been favorites of mine for a long time, I never think of their films as bleak since I always enjoy watching them.

You probably know more about their world view than anyone I've ever read, which is why I was especially looking forward to your take on the film.

I love that their films are ambiguous. It seems however that some critics have already made up their minds that the Coens are just messing with us when they do this, and they are just laughing behind our backs. That's kind of an insulting thing to say about such gifted filmmakers.

To me there is alot of senseless scenes in Coens' films, but they counter these scenes with questions about the senselessness. They never seem to be able to find an answer for these questions, but they are looking for meaning, and I think that's important to mention.

Is there a book out there that you could recommend that is about the Coens and their body of work, and if there isn't, when will you be writing one?

JE: I'm not aware of one -- but I sure would love to write one!

Jim, no wonder you're a Buster Keaton fan! Same worldview: no matter what you try to do, the universe will have its way with you. :)

JE: It's true. All you can do is throw yourself upon the "mercy" -- er, make that, "indifference" -- of the universe.

I have yet to see a serious man as I live in Vancouver and it hasn't, to my knowledge, been released here yet. I'm sure I'd love it as the cohen's are my favorite directors currently alive. I'm here to comment about the whole stupid Schrödinger's cat thingy. Now I'm completely ignorant about even rudimentary math (hence my English and History degree) so what I'm about to say will strike many as either woefully stupid, glib or too literal minded. When I was an undergrad one of my Engineering friends put forth the cat theory-ineptly explained admittedly (but thankfully God invented wikipedia so I investigated the theory before commenting)- and it always struck me as a very poor analogy. If you lock a cat in a box it will die. And there's something about not knowing if the cat will be alive or dead. Well, let me solve all of quantum physics for you right now; the cat will eventually suffocate or starve. No way around it. If you're not sure the poor animal you sentenced to a tortuous end has indeed expired then pick the box up and proceed to rattle it. If you here a hissing, meowing sound, then the cat lives. Conversely, if you hear the leaden thud of dead weight smacking against the of confines the small cat coffin than you have cruelly murdered an animal. How this elucidates anything about the nature of the universe I haven't the faintest idea. Seems to me some Austrian man tried to quell his guilt over leaving his cat locked in a box by fabricating a bogus theory, much like freud with Oedipus. If you can explain please do.

JE: You may be confusing Schrödinger's cat with the one in the microwave. One's a thought experiment, the other's an urban legend. At any rate, do not try either experiment at home. The Coens (and the link in this post) explain EVERYTHING.

I have theories and comprehension about Gopnick... But what was the opening parable's significance? I still don't get that AT ALL!

JE: Like I said, I see it as a fractal -- the whole movie in miniature: 19th century Jews in a Polish shtetl; 20th century Jews in prairie America. It's a historical, cultural, theological continuum...

Okay, but that doesn't account for the significance of the dybbuk itself. It could be argued that Larry's brother is the dybbuk in the present day story; it's implied that he hasn't been there for too long, and his being invited into the house could have set all these terrible things into motion. Also, if you include Larry's canoe dream (as soon as I saw that thing on the roof of the car, it seemed a very un-Jewish type of excursion and was waiting for the punch-line), Arthur and the dybbuk are the only two characters "murdered", and perhaps that was a sign.

JE: Could be! For me the signs that something was not quite as it seemed in the canoe scene were (literally) the conspicuous "Canada" sign and the idealized Roger Deakins gorgeousness of the lakeside morning, which has a depth and richness like nothing else in the movie...

I would love to read a Coens book by you Jim. You seem to be the leading authority on their films and a book about them is just what this country needs.

Respectfully, I am not Jewish, and many of the positive reactions I've read or heard from folks suggest (or outright insist) that a familiarity/ knowledge with that religion, much less the community within the film, is enormously beneficial to maximizing one's appreciation for the film's impact. Quite frankly, I was left cold by the movie, never bored or unhappy, necessarily, but inert as I watched it, because I felt like its deliberate effort not to satisfy any sort of narrative momentum, emotional payoff, or even larger thematic catharsis was just something I didn't particularly want to revisit or watch. I say this as a big Coen brothers fan - I adore Barton Fink, Raising Arizona is my all-time favorite comedy, and I am a huge fan of most of the rest of their movies - but there's always a thin line between their meaningful, superior intellectualism and their smartass, condescending nihilism, and this one quite frankly falls into the latter arena, although to be fair much more gratifyingly than, say, Burn After Reading or The Ladykillers, both of which depreciate in value upon subsequent viewings (if not while you're watching them). As a moviegoer (moreso than as a critic) I have an unofficial rule for what I look for in a movie, and that's that its ultimate payoff either be gratifying or cathartic, which I think allows for a lot of leeway but nevertheless demands the filmmakers build their film towards something meaningful or true, even if it's sad or unconventional, and I didn't feel like this film did either. At the same time I recognize that in your writing above you eloquently defended my points and probably a lot more of them, and folks might find exactly the meaning I was looking for in the film, but it left me cold.

JE: I'll show you the life of the mind! Actually, I don't know what I can say to address your feelings about the movie except that (as I wrote above) I think it presents a fully coherent and satisfying whole. Yes, it's very specific about a Jewish Upper Midwestern milieu (which is what gives it such a vivid texture), but I don't think it's just about "Jewishness." Think of it as a re-imagining of many of the same themes about storytelling that are in "Barton Fink." Instead of a blocked, passive writer who's out of his element, this one's about a blocked, passive man who's become so immersed in his element that he's almost disappeared...

Todd's comment above alludes to some sentiments that I have heard repeated by others that the movie somehow plays differently to Jews and goys. As I was leaving the theatre I actually overheard a group of people talking about the movie. One saying that they didn't care for it and another responding that they would have "gotten it" if they were Jewish. I have to disagree.

For one, if you are to accept A Serious Man as a take on the Book of Job, it must be recognized that Job is a part of both Jewish and Christian theology. That isn't to mention of course, themes of suffering and perseverence present outside the Judeo-Christian tradition.

I however, agree with Jim's assessment of the film as being more Kafka-esque than Job-esque. The themes of this movie are as universally applicable as the laws and theorems of mathematics. To me, it is more significant that Larry be a physics professor than it is that he be Jewish. He seems to believe more in numbers and science than he does in a higher power. The questions he asks of the rabbis implies a belief in a closed system universe where cause and effect reign supreme. He is living the effect and searching for cause. It is an endeavor whose final result may be seen in Larry's brother Arthur who works to the point of madness to find order in the universe. Eventually he too breaks down and questions the "fairness" of it all. The point is, these questions don't seem exclusively Jewish in any way and neither do the "answers."

Finally, even the instances of "culture clash" in my opinion, don't necessarily require a Jewish perspective. The exchange with the Korean student and subsequently with his father would have caught almost any American off guard. There is also Larry's anxiety about his very Aryan looking neighbor. There seems to be an implication that the neighbor may be anti-Semitic. However, the neighbor offers Larry help when he appears to be getting hassled by the Korean student's father. Also, Larry is put-off by the sight of a still bleeding stag tied to the roof of his neighbor's car but then, so would most people. The row over the property line is a case of feuding neigbors not religious or racial prejudice.

My purpose in writing all of this is simply because I really enjoyed this movie and believe that it demands careful critique. I would hate for this film to be either dismissed or applauded simply on the grounds of its "Jewishness."

Nick nailed it. As Jim noted, the film has the texture of a Jewish society, but only insofar as the texture of the Chicago gangland played into Miller's Crossing, 40s Hollywood into Barton Fink, etc. The Coens have always used their setting...really, better than most filmmakers I can think of. It seems to matter more, certainly to the way their characters speak. No different here.

But they're used to get to something universal. The themes, and really most of the specific incidents, could apply to anyone. I could see how growing up Jewish might make you relate to the jokes more, or how being religious might make Larry's spiritual struggle more immediate, but the fundamental questions being asked and themes addressed are things everyone struggles with. I think, anyway.

I'm no more Jewish than a gangster (although I do have a bit of The Dude in me...), but I always found the Coens' films remarkably moving.

I read the dybbuk (or not-dybbuk) as a manifestation of both Schrodinger's Cat (dead or alive) and the Uncertainty Principle (only one way to find out). While a 20th century physics professor may know the math that his shtetl forebears did not, he is no better position to use this knowledge than they were, as "even I don't understand the dead cat."

This is the second time the Coen brothers have *saved my life* at the movies. When I first saw "No Country for Old Men", it was like medicine for the bad thoughts I was having that season: failing chemistry grades, an agonizing struggle to earn my driver's license... I was really miserable in late 2007. That film somehow made things so much better. It was one of the most pessimistic films of the decade, but it inspired me to live again.

I don't want to give anyone the impression that I'm suicidal or anything- I'm not! But the Coens are the only filmmakers who can make a film about depression without making the film itself depressing. "A Serious Man" left me feeling refreshed after it was over. I don't remember enjoying a movie about misery this much since P.T. Anderson's "Magnolia".

And despite the bad stuff that Larry Gopnik has to go through, he is one of the most effortlessly likable of the Coen characters. Michael Stuhlbarg has a great future ahead of him.

I thought "Burn After Reading" was entertaining but not hot stuff, so I'm happy to see the Coens pouring out their soul into a feature film once more.

I’ve seen A Serious Man only once – so far – but it’s already one of my favorite Coen brothers films. That’s saying a lot. I’m right with those who have commented that one needn’t be Jewish to appreciate the film.

The film is a deeply compassionate (and funny) take on suffering as part of the human condition. Bad things happen to people who are not bad, and for no discernible reason. Why? Judaism has a rich tradition and literature that wrestles with these very human questions. The Coens grew up steeped in Jewish culture and religion. So it seems entirely appropriate that the Coens would use a Jewish context for a story about this universal theme.

Unexplained suffering is what the Book of Job, in Jewish and, later, Christian scripture, is all about. Larry Gopnik is a very Job-like figure, and it’s possible to find all sorts of parallels the Job story, for example the three friends of Job and the three rabbis in the film. The Coens might even have intended some of the parallels. My candidate for a parallel that’s not accidental is the tornado at the end of the film.

In scripture, Job endures the long list of afflictions and disasters that befall him but maintains that he has not done anything to deserve punishment. Eventually he questions God fairness and wants to make his case before God. “Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind” (King James version of the Bible).

Jews and Christians have sought meaning in the Job story, and God’s response to Job, for over 2,000 years. There are many interpretations. Some people find confirmation of their religious belief, Jewish or Christian, in the need to submit to God without question and without expecting to understand. To my mind, God’s reply offers Job no consolation and shows no compassion.

I have no idea what message, if any, the Coen brothers heard emanating from the whirlwind at the end of A Serious Man. And I can’t imagine them saying through a film, “You know that great existential question that’s been making humans crazy forever? Well, here’s the answer.” Part of the challenge of the film, and what makes it interesting, is that the Coen Brothers leave it to you to find your own answers.

Saw it tonight. The ending... what do you think, like 90% of people that see the movie will HATE it? Like with NCFOM I thought it perfect.

"A Serious Man" gives serious viewers lots of food for thought, lots to chew on. But uh, as I watched it, while I recognized that the Universe will do what it will and we are at it's mercy and life is truly unpredictable etc, I thought it still helps to have a pair! I mean, be a man for Christ sakes. Jesus. We have a *little* power in our lives. One certainty in life is that if your spineless, people will tend to walk all over you. *Sigh*

Saw "Serious" this afternoon. Definitely among the best movies of the year. It was, indeed, a serious movie, with humorous overtones. I appreciated how Sy Ableman was so "touchy" and seemingly concerned for Larry, whose wife he had stolen (I'm glad you're being such an adult). The slow movement for Larry from certainty to confusion is amusing but also very human and very involving. "I've done nothing" is everyman's response to an accusation, but it may be true that Larry hasn't done enough of the right things.

Judith refers to problems they have been having as a couple, but to him her complaint comes out of the blue. Perhaps when it came to taking care of his marriage, he had done nothing. In terms of keeping track of his children, he seems to have done nothing. And regarding his quite sick brother, he did nothing to move him toward a life outside the Gropnik home.

I loved how Larry looks at the bill from the lawyer (not his divorce attorney, but the criminal attorney for his brother, arrested on a vice charge), erases the "F" for Clive's grade, substitutes a "C" then- after two beats- adds a "minus" to the grade. Would his doctor have called a moment later with seriously bad news (I've cleared my schedule- come now), and would the tornado have threatened his son's school? Hashem only knows.

BTW- at the showing I attended the question and response "What happened to the goy?" ""Who cares?" got a big laugh. Go figure.

I saw the film last weekend and came out exhilerated and have been constantly thinking about it and the number of interpretations that it can yield. I saw the movie as re-evaluation or even rejection of traditions. The film is set, after all, in the late 1960's when people were starting to reject the established authority en masse.
In that light, the beginning, with the old-style, narrow full screen is the epitome of the tradition. We see Jews insulated in their schtetl, dressed in traditional garb and acting out a traditional story. Yet the story (at least to me) fails to deliver any message, moral, or even point. It just ends, like Rabbi Nachtner's story about the goy's teeth (and my old rabbi’s sermons). Then the film enters the 60's and expands its view into the full wide-screen, and the outside world starts seeping into Larry's Jewish community. It is no coincidence that the Coen’s constantly shot the synagogue from above, highlighting its coffin-like design.
When Larry goes to visit the three rabbis, it is the youngest whose advice (“just look at the parking lot”), while useless for Larry’s problems, is the closest to being “right” (a parallel to Job). No one listens to him because of his youth, but Danny encounters the beautiful, “Job-ian” G-d in the form of a tornado in the parking lot. Throughout the film, Danny ignores and perverts Jewish traditions: getting high during his Bar Mitzvah; ignoring his Hebrew teacher by listening to Jefferson Airplane, etc. However, he still goes through with all of them. He is still a Jew.
Marshak, the eldest rabbi, only speaks to the newest generation of Jewish men, ignoring Larry who looks to tradition for answers. After Danny’s Bar Mitzvah, he quotes the lyrics of “Somebody to Love” and hands back the radio, a link to the outside world. Perhaps he realizes that the tradition is slowly dying out, and offering up a piece of ancient Jewish wisdom would not do anything. It is his method of appealing to the youth. In the end, Danny finds comfort in Jefferson Airplane, staring calmly at the beautiful image of G-d/Death while the elderly Jewish teacher fails to get them to safety. Danny is perfectly calm while the bully Fagle looks back at Danny in fear of the old-testament/bully image of G-d.
As far as Larry’s end, I had two understandings/ideas. The first thought that came to me (as I’m sure it came to most), is that the doctor is telling him that he has cancer or something and will die soon. Unlike his son, Larry faces this news with fear, a natural response. How could this happen after everything has finally started going right? While he never speaks out against G-d, he seems offended by G-d. Perhaps G-d is testing the reactions of the different generations of the chosen people, and Jefferson Airplane, not the old cantor, reigns at the ends the film (not counting the credits, where the cantor’s song does re-emerge. Someone else can have toy with that).
The other thought that I had about this is just an idea with no evidence. I thought back to the story of the goy’s teeth, and wondered if perhaps the doctor had found a similar message in Larry’s x-rays. I would certainly feel uncomfortable talking about that over the phone because the other person would think I was insane. That’s just a fun thought to play with though. Of course you can only assume what happens to the characters after the screen goes black.
Sorry for the long, rambling nature of this post. I could probably keep going. The movie just has that effect on me.

But uh, as I watched it, while I recognized that the Universe will do what it will and we are at it's mercy and life is truly unpredictable etc, I thought it still helps to have a pair! I mean, be a man for Christ sakes. Jesus. We have a *little* power in our lives. One certainty in life is that if your spineless, people will tend to walk all over you. *Sigh*

Jason S., you've maybe forgotten this scene, but that's actually the exact same advice that Larry gives his brother during their poolside scene. Arthur's complaining how Larry has everything that Arthur doesn't, and Larry says, well, you do have to do some thing for yourself. So whereas Larry is stupefied by the rabbis, he provides appropriate rabbinical counsel to his brother, speaking "only" out of the wisdom of his years.

As to the dybbuk: I don't see that it's a Schrodinger's Cat scenario. The wife knows the Reb is dead -- this is incontrovertible, as we have no reason to believe she's crazy. (It would have been easy to make this more ambiguous -- having had the Reb die one shtetl further down the road, or more recently, or through some other mechanism where the wife suspects but can't be sure. But that's not this movie: She's sure.) And so how does the dybbuk appeal to the husband? He twice calls him "a rational man." The wife throws him out, saying (paraphrasing) "God is good and good riddance to evil."

Now, if this sequence is a fractal of the whole film, is the dybbuk meant to be the brother, as earlier postulated, or maybe Sy Ableman, who is also trying to assume Larry's life the way the dybbuk has assumed the Reb's life. But I think the takeaway is that the recourse to "rationalism" parallels Larry's life as "a serious man" -- yes, that's a name given to Sy, but Larry claims it for himself in Marshak's office -- who thinks the world should be reducible to cause and effect. (And then the joke's on him when it is!)

Saw it today. I thought it was a pretty funny, rather interesting work.

But, much as I hate looking like a dope, I didn't care much for the ending. I also had the same problem with "No Country for Old Men," yet not with "Burn After Reading." But at least with those, the stories had tied up all their loose ends. Here, the movie unties a few before ending.

I've read the comments, and I can sort of get the interpretation mentioned, and maybe even contribute some myself (it could be Kafkaesque; I recall one author saying that many of Kafka's stories don't finish properly because the stories have no end), but it still felt like they were either trying to annoy the philistines who didn't get "No Country's" ending. Or perhaps they were setting up a sequel.

JE: In Kafka's case, some works are unfinished because he never finished them (which adds yet another existential level to the stories). But I never understood what people thought they were supposed to "get" -- or what they claimed to not "get" -- in the ending for "NCFOM." How much more straightforward can an ending be? Several people are dead. Chigurgh gets away. The sheriff retires. The End. You know the old saying: The difference between a comedy and a tragedy is where you decide to end the story. (Or begin it, for that matter.) This is openly addressed in what the Coens say about the box in "Barton Fink": What more is there to know? And if you knew it, where does that get you? "A Serious Man" prepares you for the ending (though you don't necessarily realize it at the time) with every one of its stories -- and most explicitly in the rabbis' parables. I look forward to writing more about it soon...

Reading this again, I think Scott throws something out there that has to be addressed: Larry getting a belated call about his x-rays despite having gotten a clean bill of health is *exactly* the same thing that happens to the goy in the parable, with the difference I guess being that the doctor wants to see Larry "now" (making it more ominous). But it's too much of a rhyme not to send up the flagpole. So on the one hand, maybe Larry got bad news from the doctor. On the other hand, maybe it was like the goy. And what happened to the goy? "To the goy? Who cares?"

I absolutely loved this movie, although I was raised Orthodox Jewish and went with non-Jewish friends who all said they probably would have enjoyed it more if they had a better understanding of the concept. I was told by another friend that I missed something by not staying til the end of the credits. Does anyone have any more information about that?

To Aaron G:

The end credits has the typical disclaimer that states that all depictions in the movie are ficticious and coincidental, followed by this gem:

"No Jews were Harmed During the Making of This Movie"

"Goddamit, they did it again". Wow.
I WAS Danny, in a way. That is MY generation being depicted so accurately it was a bit scary. "Barton Fink" is a top 5 all time for me, so I was excited to have the Coen's revisit their Jewish roots.
This film is a treatise on the randomness of life. NCFOM was also, but not with religious content. The most difficult thing about being Jewish is not the history of suffering, enslavement and pain, but the lack of authoritative reason. Every story told is full of holes, and as if it weren't obvious enough, we are instructed to question these stories by the scholars. How does Cain find a wife? Why does Hashem pick on Job, his favorite? Is there an afterlife or not?
Non-Jews might not get this movie, unfortunately, even though it speaks to universal doubt, cynicism and disillusionment. The Dybbuk story, the Goy's Teeth, these are fables that are supposed to explain something, but don't. They have no point. Just like so many of the stories in Torah. Just like "A Serious Man". Random, discomforting, meaningless, at times hilarious, often very painful. The end is unforgettable, as poignant as the end of Barton Fink. I loved this film, and can't wait to see it again.

I've seen this incredible film three times, each time with different people (five in total). None of them really cared too much for it; one outright disliked it. I think it's hands down the Coens' best work. I find it to be profoundly affecting, though I have a hard time explaining precisely why. It's just such a vivid and realistic portrait of life. The way things just happen, whether you like it or not. There's so much complexity in it, too. So many details.

If you'll notice there's an awful lot of repetition of events throughout the film (Danny running away from Fagel after getting off the bus, Larry's co-worker letting him know about the tenure situation, Larry's dream sequences, "I'll be out in a minute!", Danny sharing a joint with his friend, etc.) There's probably more I can't recall right now. The interesting thing is, all these things happen precisely three times. (The poignant Sidor Belarsky tune heard most prominently during the car crash scene also plays thrice in the film, as does Somebody to Love). I don't think this could possibly be coincidental, then again maybe this kind of meaningless examination of small details in search of a greater point is exactly the thing the Coens are sort of parodying in the film.

Oh, did I forget about the THREE rabbis? (Sorry).

In any case, an amazing film, that I think represents the Coens at the absolute peak of their craft. It's gonna be fun dissecting it for years to come.

I just saw the film, and I appreciate the insights provided here to increase my appreciation of what I regarded as a so-so film. I'm a religion professor, and I loved much of the cultural ethos and felt the best strength what on the production side (capturing the feeling of upper-Midwest late Sixties American culture, especially Jewish). Without commenting on the philosophical aspects of this discussion board, which is very good, I still feel that what I felt was the most problematic element in the film was poor character development. Larry doesn't come close to, say, the Bill Macy or Frances McDormand characters in Fargo, or the Nick Cage character in Raising 'Zona. Though Larry was a mildly interesting character sketch, I just simply didn't connect very deeply with the protagonist. I really do think the casting could have been done differently to increase significantly the power of this film.

Finally got to see this today. wow, what a movie! It's rarely you find a film which gives you so much to think about but is also brilliantly entertaining from being to end. That's the Coens for you though, they always deliver (for me at least). The only exception would be The Ladykillers, which I still have not seen. The thought fills me with trepidation, I don't think my universe could handle a film by the Coen Bros. which wasn't great. The Ladykillers does not look great but until I see it there is a chance that it could be. It currently lives in a state of being 'great' and 'not great' at the same time. I think I may put off viewing it indefinitely.
Being a fan of Sam Raimi as well as the Coens, I also find it interesting to compare these sometime collaborators wayward career trajectories. And whaddya know, they both made movies in 2009 where their protagonist is seemingly cursed (or not) by a demon (Dybbuk) and despite their best efforts and good intentions can't escape their fates. Maybe I'm stretching it a bit but I think Drag Me To Hell would have been a good alternative title for A Serious Man. It will be a good double bill on Blu-Ray, though: the best movie of the year and (for me) the most entertaining one. (and why doesn't Firefox's spell-checker recognize the word movie? Or Firefox for that matter?)

The movie finally made it to Montana. It's a great one. Some thoughts (sorry if I repeat anything previously written):

The ending reintroduces the father/son cross-cutting of the opening, "answering" the questions of Larry's medical exam and Danny's confiscated MacGuffin (a.k.a. Fagel's radio). By the time Larry gets the ominous phone call from his doctor and Danny reclaims the cosmic MacGuffin, where else is the movie supposed to go? So even if the Coens forgo some of the niceties of a clearly signaled closing shot, with their cuts to black, they do clearly signal those ending scenes as The End, by their placement within the larger structure of the film.

I've merely described the pattern of the film, not the meaning, but the Coens are so damn good that their films can be richer in pattern than in meaning. Or maybe this: pattern creates meaning in a world with no meaning. Might as well structure your film according to the trajectory of Fagel's radio. Anything will do.

But if I had to take a stab at meaning, I'd say that at film's end, we find father and son confronted with the double spectre of death (x-ray anomalies) and destruction (tornado). Larry might be dying and has yet to seize any bit of happiness for himself, while Danny sees the tornado bearing down, hears "Somebody to Love" coming on the radio again, and decides he'll keep what isn't his. The tornado doesn't change his mind, the song does. He doesn't need to forecast his own demise to know how good that song is. (Does this make him as wise as Marshak? If Larry ever got a meeting with Marshak, would he also simply be told about the Airplane?) Larry, on the other hand, probably does need to learn that his questions might not matter when he might be dying anyway, so... maybe he will change. It is a good sign that he has already followed in his son's footsteps once: trying marijuana and altering his perceptions.

(But if I got any plot details wrong and sound like I'm just blowing smoke, it's because I need to see the movie again.)

Last, Jim, I think a good addition to the new rules of filmmaking you posed a while back would be this: No music, no score, no soundtrack, ever. Then, when the Coens do something amazing with a song like "Somebody to Love" (it's the best overuse of an overplayed song since "California Dreamin'" in Chungking Express), it would be all to their credit for breaking the rule.

The movie finally made it to Montana. It's a great one. Some thoughts (sorry if I repeat anything previously written):

The ending reintroduces the father/son cross-cutting of the opening, "answering" the questions of Larry's medical exam and Danny's confiscated MacGuffin (a.k.a. Fagel's radio). By the time Larry gets the ominous phone call from his doctor and Danny reclaims the cosmic MacGuffin, where else is the movie supposed to go? So even if the Coens forgo some of the niceties of a clearly signaled closing shot, with their cuts to black, they do clearly signal those ending scenes as The End, by their placement within the larger structure of the film.

I've merely described the pattern of the film, not the meaning, but the Coens are so damn good that their films can be richer in pattern than in meaning. Or maybe this: pattern creates meaning in a world with no meaning. Might as well structure your film according to the trajectory of Fagel's radio. Anything will do.

But if I had to take a stab at meaning, I'd say that at film's end, we find father and son confronted with the double spectre of death (x-ray anomalies) and destruction (tornado). Larry might be dying and has yet to seize any bit of happiness for himself, while Danny sees the tornado bearing down, hears "Somebody to Love" coming on the radio again, and decides he'll keep what isn't his. The tornado doesn't change his mind, the song does. He doesn't need to forecast his own demise to know how good that song is. (Does this make him as wise as Marshak? If Larry ever got a meeting with Marshak, would he also simply be told about the Airplane?) Larry, on the other hand, probably does need to learn that his questions might not matter when he might be dying anyway, so... maybe he will change. It is a good sign that he has already followed in his son's footsteps once: trying marijuana and altering his perceptions.

(But if I got any plot details wrong and sound like I'm just blowing smoke, it's because I need to see the movie again.)

Last, Jim, I think a good addition to the new rules of filmmaking you posed a while back would be this: No music, no score, no soundtrack, ever. Then, when the Coens do something amazing with a song like "Somebody to Love" (it's the best overuse of an overplayed song since "California Dreamin'" in Chungking Express), it would be all to their credit for breaking the rule.

That the opening Yiddish scene and the Minnesota scenes are "Then & Now" chapters about the same tribe is supported by the use of Jefferson Airplane as the bridge music. Most of its founders were Jewish, and that even includes Jorma Kaukonen. Recall this fact again at the end, when the old Rabbi recites these names (not all Jewish, but most are).

Were the tornado and the doctor's ghastly message punishment, at the last moment, for changing the student's grade? So it seemed. But another possibility is that these are the hammer that has come down on this tribe at every stage in its history, even after periods of relative normality, when they, as others, deal with the everyday problems of living that we see, in concentrated form, afflicting Prof. Gopnik.

Some people have commented about Danny deciding to keep Fagle's $20 at the end rather than returning it. There's a lot going on in that scene, but I didn't take it that way. When Danny yells at Fagle and he turns around, the fear exhibited by Fagle is enough to make Danny realize the $20 is extremely unimportant compared to the fate that is about to befall them.

My view of the ending is that Larry is facing a similar test as that of Job, but he fails by changing the grade from a "C" to a "C-". Changing the grade from an "F" to a "C" is a sin but trying to assuage his guilt by adding the - was immoral and fatal. I don't think it's a coincidence that the phone rings immediately after the pencil finishes making the new grade. Larry kept asking for signs and answers to explain his misfortune; God has tried already, by killing Sy and sparing him in the simultaneous auto accidents. After failing the test, God answered with typical Old Testament level wrath.

Like Jim, I teared up at the end, just like NCFOM. There's something sad and beautiful about their films, and they rarely fail to affect me on a deep emotional level.

A-ha. Saw it again and learned that the radio does in fact belong to Danny. I shouldn't dwell on plot so much anyway, but I stand by the MacGuffin idea--an arbitrary (of course) but necessary way to structure a film about a search for meaning whose only proper ending is the death of the species.

In the book of Job, Job demands to plead his case to God, and God grants this and shows up in the form of a whirlwind. But God's response to Job is really interesting: he refuses to explain the tragedies Job has suffered, and says that even if he did explain why bad things happen to good people, that we -- in our mortal, relativistic minds -- wouldn't understand anyway.
That's how I read the tornado at the end of the movie. God shows up to give order and answers, but the nature of that God is inscrutable and terrifying and beautiful. Everyone in the movie is struck mute by its presence -- including Larry, whose equivalent whirlwind is the doctor's phone call. If we had answers, then we could compartmentalize our existential dilemmas, and solve them, like a math problem. But something that can't be understood can't be "solved."
I offer this up, Jim, because I think I'm beginning to appreciate this movie as much as you, but I know I'm coming at from a very different point of view (I believe in God, though I don't understand him or much of this world he makes us live in). I agree with you that the Coens are fatalistic (as is Job, or Ecclesiastes, or Lamentations), but they're not nihilistic, and between this movie and NCFOM I think they might be some of the most theologically mature directors working. Your thoughts on this? Do you think this movie, and the Coens' body of work, supports both belief and athiesm/agnosticism?
Oh, two other things. The author of Job was probably not Jewish, and Job was not Jewish. I don't know what that means, but I thought I'd bring it up. Also, there is a book-length work of criticism on the Coens out called The Philosophy of the Coen Brothers by Mark T. Conrad, but I have yet to read it.

I don't know maybe I am completely off base here but I see some similarities between what happens to Gopnik and the Dude. Both of them have a bunch of bad stuff happen to them for no apparent fault of their own. What is different is there approach Gopnik takes life seriously and is constantly trying to figure out the meaning of it all. The Dude just kind of goes with the flow and accepts it. In the end both are no better than they are at the beginning of the movie, but at least the Dude still has his health.

And now it's my turn to add a "Finally saw it!" comment to this post.

Finally saw it (and at the local dollar theater of all places!) and it didn't disappoint. Most of my thoughts on it would only be re-phrasing a lot of what was already discussed above, so I'll just say that how anyone can say this movie is "bleak" or "cynical" is beyond my comprehension, and is possible only through a tremendous misreading of the film. A lot of bad things happen to Larry, but the movie is clearly empathizing with his situation, not mocking it, because it's telling us that in the end we're all Larry and things like this happen to all of us all the time. I don't think the movie could have made it any clearer: "And he never even complains," Larry says of Arthur... until he brakes down in an empty swimming pool and sobs about how much better Larry has it. How's that for giving Larry a fresh perspective on his own suffering?

Too bad Arthur didn't have his breakdown in the parking lot.

Side note: That was a hell of a final shot.