Seriously, Man

A Serious Man (2009)

A Serious Man has been called hilarious comedy, genius high-brow tragedy, the best Coen brothers film, the Jewy-est, most auto-biographical Coen brothers film, a modern day story of Job, a medieval story of a dybbuk, and much else besides. But mostly it has been called dark and funny, confusing and mysterious. Dark and funny it is, and the pleasure of that sweet brain-candy needs not much of an explanation. I guess confusion and mystery, too, is pleasurable in small doses, but too much confusion inevitably leads to… confusion. And so most reviewers make an attempt at making sense of the various plot elements, how they fit together and how the mysterious dybbuk in the beginning of the movie fits into this mystery of a storyline with a confusing, mysterious plot. Ultimately, nothing you’re likely to see by way of explanation makes much sense. Until now.

Dybbuk (after being stabbed by Mrs. Velvel): “I ask you, Velvel, as a rational man, which of us is possessed?”

This is the first clue and sets the tone for the rest of the film. Notice how the dybbuk explicitly addresses Velvel as a “rational man.” Velvel is the prototype of shtetl rationality. Hardworking and no-nonsense, he wheels and deals, meets people and knows his way around the big city, and laughs good naturedly at the old folk-superstitions. Dora, on the other hand, is a typical superstitious shtetl-dwelling peasant, all folk-tales and no real-world knowledge of anything too far off from her own fireplace. No-nonsense in her own ignorant way, she knows a dybbuk when she sees one and will definitely get rid of it for the good of her household. In this little vignette, we see the “rational man” left angst-ridden and beset by guilt, unsure of himself and his future. Dora suffers no such indignities. Confident in the knowledge that she saved everyone from imminent disaster, she goes on living happily ever after.

Larry Gopnik, professor of physics — the paragon of modern and post-modern rationality and clear-headed thinking. A serious man. Tries to live a good life and follows all the rules. He expects people to act rationally, based on knowledge and reason. Larry likes his math equations and likes to prove them, too. His life is straightforward and without mystery. And everything goes bad for him in a hurry. Very, very bad. Tornado-in-an-outhouse bad.

“I fucked your wife, Larry! I seriously fucked her!” says Sy. Not as in ‘royally fucked,’ but as in ‘biblically fucked.’  Yes, another rational and literal straight-shooter, arguing the side of reason and cool-headedness. Let’s talk this out like adults, Sy is likely to say. We are rational and logical beings, after all. Sy Ableman, killed in a car accident soon after.

Clive Park wants a passing grade. He doesn’t know the math needed to do physics, but he “understands the dead cat.” The dead cat is Schrodinger’s paradox, counter-intuitive and unreasonable. He is a man of physics but a man of mystery at the same time. He threatens, even if his threats are illogical. “Accept the mystery,” his father warns Larry, ominously. Why can’t you have it both ways? Mr. Park demands. He gets his way in the end.

Meanwhile poor Larry is trying to understand Hashem. Life suddenly isn’t very logical anymore. The Rabbi, humorless and struggling to explain, gives advice that boils down to “look at the parking lot.” Desperate, Larry accepts something good to smoke from a cool neighbor. And that, of all things, leads to the pinnacle of his life, the only happy and mind-blowing incident we see him enjoy in his wretched existence. While everything is hazy and unclear, amidst the confusion and cloudiness, without rhyme or reason or logic, he finally manages some pleasure.

Larry’s pot-smoking son is having a terrible time at his Bar Mitzvah. It is a time to accept your obligations as a man, to start taking life seriously, to follow the rules, to let logic dictate your behavior. He cannot deal with any of that. We can see a train wreck coming. The torah-reading goes horribly, the atmosphere is tense, and everything is on the verge of disaster. And who rescues the situation? Rabbi Marshak, aging Hasidic sage, the one who doesn’t have time to see anyone because he’s busy “thinking.” Smiling avuncularly, Rabbi Marshak quotes Jefferson Airplane and returns the boy’s confiscated radio. The very embodiment of paradox, Rabbi Marshak is the most serene and contented character portrayed in the story.

And then disaster strikes. The end.

Even without the many supporting characters and subplots of the movie that I didn’t mention, the moral, I’m sure, is clear by now. The movie is an anti-rational polemic! No matter who you are or what you do, the story tells us, being overly rational leads to a miserable life. Logic is not a prescription to happiness and too much reason will only dig your grave a bit deeper. Whether adulterous rascal or Goody Two-Shoes physics professor, learned Rabbi or run-of-the-mill shiksa, the spice of life is not sagacity or prudence. You can be a physics student or an aging Hasidic rabbi or anything else, but always embrace the paradox and mystery and life is so much the better for it.

And do I agree with that? Of course I do. The rational thing to do would be to throw caution to the wind and live a foolish and unreasonable and absurd life. But as we can see from the story, the smart bet is on not doing the rational thing. Better to continue living life irrationally rational, because that is the illogical thing to do. Otherwise we can end up seriously fucked. Not as in biblically fucked, but as in royally fucked. Unfortunately, there’s not much mystery in the latter. Just remember that whatever you do, life always ends in disaster anyway, for otherwise it wouldn’t end, now would it? Now go smoke a joint and look at the beautiful parking lot. Isn’t life beautiful, man?

(Thanks to L.P. for providing the essential idea inspiring a new way of seeing this story.)