From Toronto International Film Festival

Hardheartedness frequently plagues the films of two of the most talented, clever, unconventional and elaborate filmmakers working today, Joel and Ethan Coen. Almost invariably turning up dead, bluntly and out of the blue, most of their wide array of characters are maltreated with a kind of cinematic irreverence. While this often works for shock value and the plot may require it, more often than not it is simply unfair to the audience, some of whom begin to doubt the Coens’ sincerity. But refreshingly, and with renewed hope, their latest work should permanently quell this doubt.

With “A Serious Man,” the Coens have finally created a film that’s altogether very personal (but not egoistic), and sympathetic (but not sentimental), two factors that contribute to an uncommonly strong, sincere emotional drive. To be sure, the film has its trademark unexpected death or two or three, but the understatement surrounding them is entirely new.

The film begins with a parable that seems to belong in a different dimension than the rest of it, even to the untrained, general-audience eye. The fable follows a Jewish pair that resides in a Polish village, sometime around the early twentieth century, as they encounter an old man whom the wife suspects to be a wandering soul or “dybbuk.” Without being overly revealing, the scene ends when she makes sure the old man is, indeed, a dybbuk, once and for all. Spoken in a subtitled Yiddish, not only does the short fable have a vastly differing colour tone, mood, feel, aspect ratio (4:3) and setting from the upcoming one-and-a-half hours or so, but by the end of the film, even thematically it seems out of place. This begs the question: other than to futz with the audience, why is it there?

The “real” movie begins in its proper widescreen format with a series of intercuts between main character Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg), as he is going through a routine doctor’s visit, and his teen son Danny (Aaron Wolff), as he sits with no interest or attention in Hebrew school. Soon enough, we find that Larry’s life is plagued by problems: his wife Judith (Sari Lennick) plans to leave him for his annoying colleague Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed), his maladroit brother Arthur (Richard Kind) won’t move out of the house, and his upcoming tenure as physics professor is no longer decisive.

Set in the late 60s, the portrayal of the time period and all its quirks, including Larry’s pot-smoking son (whose Bar Mitzvah is fast approaching) and hairstyle-frenzied sister (who is impeded from valuable time in the bathroom by Uncle Arthur) seems pretty accurate if a bit caricatural.

Larry’s wife suggests that he seeks the advice of a Rabbi to resolve his problems, and to comedic effect, the film is henceforth divided into sections entitled “Rabbi One” and “Rabbi Two” to correspond with his multiple visits. No amount of visits prove insightful, however, and thence becomes clearer the common ground between the main plot and the fable. Just as Larry seeks faith for answers and gets nothing worthwhile, the spiritual incarnation that is the dybbuk is as indefinite, accepted by the husband and wife with starkly contrasting welcome and contempt. The thematic notion appears to be that faith is elusive and equivocal.

This is the first film in the Coens’ filmography to explore their Jewish roots with any depth or gravitas; the adherence of John Goodman’s character to Sabbath in “The Big Lebowski” doesn’t count. But while the religion is much more than a backdrop, it is never really the focus or the incitement of the piece. The dilemmas experienced by the characters are ubiquitous and most certainly not unique to Jews.

On the other hand, in delivery and content, the humour is almost exclusively deadpan and Jewish-based, derived in large part from harmless stereotypes. This too does not make it somehow exclusively appreciable by the target demographic, however. The objectively very funny movie was warmly received by the multinational festival crowd, greeted and dismissed with lengthy ovations and pervasive laughter throughout.

Other than being a cynical and well-timed comedy, “A Serious Man” is the polar opposite of the more bombastic but less consequential previous effort of the Coens, “Burn After Reading.” This time around, the highly talented cast is much less star-studded and the plot more down-to-earth, and the film really benefits from its smaller scale in many ways (though not commercially).

The look of the extraordinarily lit film is very smooth and cohesive, and bleak, kudos to master DP Roger Deakins, who worked with the Coens for some of their best works, among them “Fargo”, “O Brother, Where Art Thou?” and “No Country for Old Men.” As well, the editing is almost unbearably precise, and each scene perfect in length, thanks to a certain Roderick Jaynes, who doesn’t actually exist (he is an alias of the Coens).

The ending is a signature Coen one: bittersweet and providing closure that is understated as opposed to blatant, the antonym of what is sometimes termed the “Hollywood ending.” Following the format of the intercuts at the beginning, the film closes with some powerful imagery (akin to Shakespearean pathetic fallacy) and does not indulge in facility by tying all the remaining knots in the lives of its characters. How can it? The film is only meant to represent an irregular chapter of a lengthier narrative, the much more complex life of Larry Gopnik.

The title of the movie is said on a number of different occasions and attributed to at least two characters. The eponymous serious movie to go along with these serious men can be found with ease within the milieu of a pitch-black comedy. And at this type of pitch-perfect fusion, the brothers have conclusively shown that they are very adept indeed.

Side note: The notoriously timid Coens weren’t particularly insightful during their pre-screening introduction (some people were thanked and four cast members called out) and were quick to leave afterwards.

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