Seriousness in a Funny Cosmos

By Matthew Creighton
Boston University

In a year of blind sides and hot tub time machines, rarely did a movie come along that compelled its audience to really think. A Serious Man, the most recent film from the Coen brothers, received excellent reviews throughout the country and was nominated for two Academy Awards. Mainstream society, however, largely ignored the film. What exactly provoked such disregard? Was America simply not ready for the message of this timeless movie?

A Serious Man tells the story of Professor Larry Gopnik, a decent Midwestern family man who sees his life suddenly plagued with extreme misfortunes. In a fashion mimetic of the book of Job, Gopnik searches out Jewish advisors in the hope that they can extract some meaning from the chaos that has inundated his life. God’s representatives, however, prove unable to offer Gopnik any profound insights into the ways of the cosmos.

There are two points of departure for the Coens from the biblical antecedent. The first lies in the absence of God or any providential force. Whereas God in the climactic scene appears to Job "out of the whirlwind," Professor Gopnik receives no theophany and is ultimately left without consolation, without explanation for his suffering. The second lies in the film’s tone. No one regards the book of Job as a humorous allegory. On the other hand, part of the reason why A Serious Man is so excruciating to sit through is because one cannot help but laugh; it is a comedy intensely flirting with schadenfreude. The creativity of the directors lies precisely in their ability to wed these conflicting emotions.

The message of the film lies in its ironic title. Gopnik believes that his seriousness and virtue ensure blessedness and security from all metaphysical evils; Job initially feels the same way, acting righteously for fear of God’s punishment. Both characters learn that the universe does not act in terms of retribution. It is, in fact, chaos that governs the universe, and not even the most austere value system can guarantee comfort, let alone happiness. And herein lies the discomfort, anxiety, and sheer terror with which A Serious Man confronts its audience: Why be the nice Jewish boy our mothers all hope for when the jerk always seems to get the girl? Even more fundamentally, why be good lishma, that is, for its own sake, if evil and suffering inevitably find me? Why act seriously if the universe just laughs?

A Serious Man is yet another instance in which the term "Jewish Art" loses gravity. When we apply the term to anything even slightly Jewish, we serve to particularize a sector of poesis as only relevant and comprehensible to one community, when in fact, if examined more closely, it turns out relevant and applicable to the human community. Anything "Jewish" in this film exists superficially: the family’s background, the dreamlike bar mitzvah, and the gruesome Hebrew school experience. Rather, A Serious Man is a portrayal of the human condition, of the effort to find meaning in an ostensibly meaningless world, and of the absurdity and the delicate contingency with which we continue to exist.

A wonderful line from Noah Baumbach’s first film Kicking and Screaming succinctly illustrates the present discussion: "How do you make God laugh? You make a plan."*

Matthew Creighton is a junior at Boston University and a former Religion and Education Vice-President for New England Region USY. He studies literature and philosophy.

*Ed. Note: "Man plans; God laughs" is a well-known Yiddish proverb.

[Posted 7/11/10]