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No Country for Mad Men

The Coen Brothers are, for lack of a better term, sneaky. Even if you leave one of their films thinking, "what the heck did I just watch," eventually some image, character or catchphrase will worm its way into your subconscious and become a part of your daily vernacular. You may have hated "Fargo," but odds are you've called more than one person "Marge" in a broad Midwestern accent. Love them or hate them, their ability to create images that seize upon the viewer's subconscious is something amazing to behold.

Though their work has met with varied success ― ranging from the barely noticed ("The Ladykillers", "Intolerable Cruelty") to cult classics ("The Big Lebowski", "Raising Arizona") to Oscar winners ("No Country for Old Men") ― the Coens' films have been more or less accessible to the general public, had some semblance of a plot, and when all else failed, had some star power to fall back upon. Until now.

Their latest offering, "A Serious Man", is possibly their least accessible film to date ― and perhaps their most strangely fascinating. Set in a Jewish midwestern community in the late 1960s, the film has no big names, no discernible plot and an uncompromisingly specific environment and characters. Having grown up Jewish in Minnesota, the Coen brothers know the setting intimately. The rest of us might need some crib notes.

We get our first crash course in the opening scene, a dramatization of a folk tale (invented by the Coens) set in a 19th century shtetl. Acted entirely in Yiddish (with subtitles), the tale has almost nothing to do with the story to come. It does, however, set the tone for the film ― a little dark humor, a lot of misery.

Misery, it seems, has latched itself onto the film's protagonist, Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg). A physics professor at the local university, Larry is just an average guy. Married, with two kids and living in an average suburban neighborhood, he couldn't really ask for more. But with his son preparing for his Bar Mitzvah and his own chance at tenure, Larry is looking towards a bright future.

That one glimmer of pride is doused when his wife, Judith (Sari Lennick), suddenly announces she's leaving him for another man. His rival, Sy Ableman (Fred Melamed) ― with his velvet voice, rabbinical tone and collection of fine resort wear ― is viewed as a much better prospect. Worldly, well-versed in scripture, beloved by his students, he is the opposite of Larry. A serious man.

Banished to a dismal motel (named "The Jolly Roger") with his troubled brother, Arthur (Richard Kind), things go from bad to worse for Larry. Divorce lawyers are bleeding him dry. His tenure is threatened by anonymous letters disparaging his character. One of his students offers him a bribe for a passing grade. His son calls only to have him fix the TV antenna, while his daughter is stealing money from his wallet to save for a nose job. Adding to his frustration is a comely neighbor who has a habit of sunbathing in the nude. At the end of his tether, Larry seeks counsel from a series of rabbis, but is passed from one to another. Each rabbi has his own unique brand of "helpful" advice, which serves only to drive Larry further to despair.

The Coens take a decidedly sadistic view towards their characters. Indeed, the film is less driven by an actual plot than, "what can we do to Larry next?" Larry neither deserves, nor seems to be able to get clear of, the trouble that follows him. However, the truly tortured character is Larry's brother, Arthur. Socially inept, brilliant but unable to hold a job, suffering from a persistent sebaceous cyst that has to be drained nightly, Larry's life looks like a fairy tale compared to Arthur's. Depressed yet?

These are the Coen brothers, after all, so one can expect some gallows humor amidst all this woe. Inspired by people they knew as boys, vivid caricatures and motifs emerge: the baggy stockings and low heels of the sturdy secretaries, Judith's bulletproof bouffant, Larry's high-waisted trousers and pocket protectors, his daughter's eternal wait to get into the bathroom to wash her hair, the neighbor's leathery tan and frosted lips, the darkened office of an aged rabbi. (It's not a Coen Bros. movie without a dark, wood-paneled office.) It's all rather fascinating, even hypnotic, but is there a point?

That's the question that remains even after the final scene, with an ending so abrupt it makes the end of "No Country for Old Men" seem drawn out. The quote that opens the film, "Receive with simplicity everything that happens to you," would appear to apply to Larry's plight, but they're more like a caveat on the part of the filmmakers. "Don't worry about it," they seem to say, "just go along for the ride."

In the end, "A Serious Man" is a strange, inscrutable film that, in other hands, would be a mere throwaway. But these are the Coens who (as previously mentioned) are sneaky. So though you may (and probably will) leave the theater in a state of complete bewilderment, they've have still managed to create images that will be etched in your brain for a long time to come.