Review: A Serious Man

Originally printed in Mayday Magazine, March 2010

Before I review A Serious Man, I feel that I should disclose two important personal facts.  The first is that I’m a huge fan of the Coen brothers.  That’s not too extraordinary; it’s hard not to at least respect the Coens for the quality and originality of the bulk of their work. I’ve encountered few people who don’t love at least one of their films.  I’d certainly argue they’ve made no less than three modern classics (Fargo, The Big Lebowski and No Country for Old Men), and even if they haven’t, their reputation is, at least in my opinion, deserved.

The second is that I’m not Jewish and have had very little interactions with Jewish culture. And while seeing A Serious Man may not necessarily require a working knowledge of contemporary Jewish culture, it certainly helps if you do.

A Serious Man is a dark comedy about the existential crisis of Professor Larry Gopnik (he is played by Michael Stuhlbarg, a veteran stage actor making his first major onscreen appearance).  Larry’s wife wants to leave him.  His son has started smoking pot.  His daughter is apathetic towards him at best.  He’s facing a serious moral dilemma at work.  When he seeks religious guidance, he winds up with less comfort than he started with.  All in all, the early 1970’s are a pretty bad time to be Larry.

And that’s really just the tip of the iceberg.  The film piles on misery after misery in what should be one of the best weeks of Larry’s life; his son is about to have his Bar Mitzvah and Larry appears to be in good position to gain tenure at his university.  From there, however, a number of mild inconveniences escalate and escalate.  Some of this might be Larry’s fault, but we’re never given quite enough information to know for sure.

Is a rebellious child the fault of a parent? Is divorce the fault of an emotionally absentee partner? A Serious Man doesn’t show enough for the viewer to move beyond basic assumptions. Then there are events where Larry could not possibly be at fault; these, too, add to his plight.  Larry just has a lot of terrible things happen to him with no particular explanation why.

This is a common theme in the Coen’s work, but it’s presented differently here.  In their most beloved film, The Big Lebowski, few pleasant things happen to The Dude; yet this never seems too apparent because The Dude and his friends are engaging and likeable characters and the film leans quite heavily on the ridiculous.

While objectively A Serious Man never really stretches plausibility, only a few characters seem truly amiable.  Larry, though certainly not a cruel man, is a far cry from the likeable everyman.  He has a few scenes where he’s a doormat to a frustrating degree.  Still, I found myself growing sympathetic toward his fruitless search and ever-growing list of questions without answers.

That said, I don’t think the film blindsides it’s audience with misery. When you know what sort of darkness to expect, it comes as less of a surprise.  I wasn’t taken aback by the degree of suffering Larry endured during the film. At the same time, I was taken aback by the overall tone of the film: A Serious Man never revels in Larry’s pain, it simply presents it.  While the Coen brothers have made films that make a few laughs at the expense of it’s characters, I don’t think A Serious Man is one of them.

Ultimately, the Coen brothers have constructed a well-made film. They know their craft, and their writing is generally very sharp and the film is technically very good; they know how to get great performances out of their actors and the film is well-shot and well edited.  In particular, the film boasts a very strong performance by Michael Stuhlbarg, who to my surprise actually did not earn a Best Actor nomination for his work.

The question with A Serious Man isn’t “is this good?”, but “is this worth seeing?”  That’s a vital distinction to make, and I’m actually not sure what side of the fence I fall on.  Philosophically, there’s a fair bit to grapple with.  The film’s central question is “why do bad things happen to good people?” and the film never really tries to answer the question.  Or rather, if they do, they give such vague responses as “it’s all about perspective” or “just because, and who are we to question it?”.

Perhaps the journey the viewer takes is meant to mirror Larry’s, but ultimately, it’s a film that’s easy to admire but hard to love.

B

Review: Up In The Air

Originally printed in Mayday Magazine, February 2010
Jason Reitman’s third effort, Up in the Air is a deceptively complex film. And that’s really no mean feat, all things considered. The film’s declared subject matter is fairly weighty on it’s own; it touches on themes of isolation, rebirth and change, while providing timely insight on the current economic state of North America.

George Clooney plays Ryan Bingham, a professional downsizer who spends over 300 days of the year on the road essentially firing people from companies that lacked the courage to do it themselves. He quite literally lives out of his suitcase, in hotels and on airplanes. And he likes it this way; it means he can sidestep the burdens of adulthood like car payments, home ownership, a committed relationship and most social obligations.

As he approaches his goal of 10 million miles with American Airlines, his company throws him a curve; new recruit Natalie (Anna Kendrick, who I’m told was in Twilight) has a plan that would allow the company to save the company nearly all of their (presumably astronomical) travel expenses. Ryan’s personal life has also thrown him a curve in the form of Alex, a woman who appears to be his perfect match (played by Vera Farmiga). When Ryan takes Natalie under his wing, he’s forced to re-examine his philosophy.

The story, as Reitman tells it, is character-centric. This is one of Reitman’s greatest strengths as a director, and he’s cast the film accordingly. Clooney, Kendrick, and Farmiga all deliver terrific performances. Much has already been said about how strong the chemistry between the three leads is, and I’m not sure enough can be. Maybe it’s because I’m coming from the theatre world where cast chemistry is really all you have to work with, but I really was impressed with the performances in the film.

Reitman’s two previous works — 2006’s Thank You For Smoking and 2007’s Juno — are both solid and character-driven. However, both these films tended to treat their characters as punchlines, whereas Up in the Air takes its characters more seriously.

The economical production design and script keeps the focus on the characters. Reitman never oversells a big moment, but never undersells the small ones, balancing darker themes with lighter comic elements quite well. All in all, it’s a solid, performance-driven movie.

But what about this deceptive complexity? While the film is very much straight-forward in terms of how it’s shot, paced and written, it’s underlying themes run deep. Ryan is forced to reassess his entire identity when his lifestyle is challenged. He’s forced to examine his philosophy of relationships. The film even goes as far as to suggest that he might be a lost cause; a victim of his chosen comforts. The film presents itself as the “George Clooney being charming yet vulnerable show”, but it’s at it’s best when it takes that form and steers it away from it’s assumed course.

It’s probably not a perfect movie, but I’m not sure that’s all that important. I suppose it’s not necessarily a risky or ambitious movie; Reitman doesn’t use the film as a basis for experimentation. But it is entertaining, engaging and perhaps most importantly, one that I wanted to talk about after I saw. And in our world of movies about giant fighting robots (from outer space!), it’s hard to not give a strong recommendation to an imperfect movie that’s still worth talking about.

A-