Maggie 2010: Two by the Coen Brothers

#51, 52 -- Barton Fink and A Serious Man






I am so glad I watched Barton Fink before commenting on A Serious Man. I've since discovered I'm not even close to the only one who sees the profound similarity between these two films, but it was an important independent discovery for me.

A Serious Man follows Larry Gopnik (Michael Stuhlbarg), a professor whose life is spiralling ever out of control. Things happen to him with a sense of absurdity, of randomness, and the more he seeks out meaning in the parameters of his religion, his community, his basic human nature, the more things fall apart. Everything in this film is given a sense of great import -- Jewish folklore, a conversation with a student, dreams -- which is thereafter stripped away. The only constant, it seems, is senselessness itself. And even it takes on sensible, coherent forms.

Meanwhile, Barton Fink follows Barton Fink (John Turtorro), a New York playwright who moves to Hollywood on the invitation to write film. Once he gets there everything becomes complicated--he can't write his script, his literary heroes fall from their pedestal in his eyes, the unexpected becomes the mainstay of the film. And he's pretty helpless throughout all of it.

In fact, in both films the main character is a small, understated Jewish intellectual without much pluck and plenty to be nervous about. They're also both trying to stick to their convictions against difficult odds, and both ultimately fail (albeit in different ways).

In both films pathetic fallacy plays a tremendous role in the symbolism of character conflict. In Barton Fink an early scene blatantly juxtaposes water crashing up against a rock with Barton Fink walking into Hollywood. Then there's a fire scene that couldn't drive home the message of things falling apart any more clearly than it does. In A Serious Man there's a tornado. (I'll say no more.)

In both films a character is pursuing a generic, understated sub-plot (son Danny Gopnik trying to repay the school bully, Barton Fink attempting to escape his problems by fantasizing over a picture of a beautiful woman on a beach), and the final image for both films has those generic plot-lines gently refuse such commonplace narrative engagement.

In both films the main character meets someone early on who seems integral to the story's central conflict; in both films this secondary character dies, abruptly, halfway through.

In both films the universe is directed by its own fickleness (in A Serious Man, by having a cacophony of characters weave in and out, variously offering hope and despair to Larry Gopnik; in Barton Fink, the Capital Pictures President, Jack Lipnick, best exemplifies this when his responses to Fink's progress with the B-movie wrestling picture operate on seemingly no fixed logic whatsoever).

And the list does, in fact, go on.

But at the crux of this comparison lies a more important question: So what? So what if the two films follow the same tropes, use the same devices, have the same stylistic quality? Are they any good? Is one better than the other?

Narrative-wise, I didn't like A Serious Man. I found my irritation with it grounded in the superficiality of many plot devices: The dream sequences, and the absurdly extreme waking from them, trying too hard to add layers of false meaning. The multiplicity of characters, each with their own singular quirks, intent on conveying the depth and complexity of any individual's life-web -- but instead just giving me more people not to care about over the course of the film. The completely random opening sequence, evidently thrown in for kicks because its only relation to the rest of the film is that... the characters from pioneering times are also Jewish? (Seriously, I later learned the Coen Brothers threw this scene in just 'cause -- which some people will likely think is awesome: I don't.)

Stylistically, A Serious Man has some amazing images, and wonderful little scenes (I especially love "Old Man with Walkman"). The Coen Brothers are damned intelligent filmmakers, and that shows through in everything they do. They are just also, in this film, prone to excess -- and for this reason I don't particularly care about Larry's struggle for a sense of meaning in the face of meaninglessness. I care even less about every other person inside the film.

In short, Mamet did it better in Homicide. The Coen Brothers themselves do it better in Barton Fink. (It helps, immensely, that they had John Candy.) But ultimately, I encourage you to watch both and -- shock! gasp! -- decide for yourselves. How's that for defying the spectre of helplessness that looms over us all!

Pose Reviews A Movie. #3: A Serious Man (2009)

The Coen Brothers have done it again.

It’s amazing to me how those boys can not only churn out solid movie after solid movie, but that they can do it so quickly. The Brothers Coen are currently on an unstoppable three-year winning streak, having released No Country for Old Men in 2007, Burn After Reading in 2008, A Serious Man in 2009. (And the forthcoming True Grit is set for release this year.) It’s extremely impressive that not only are Joel and Ethan (the affectionately nicknamed “two-headed director”) quality filmmakers, but they’re also incredibly efficient. But A Serious Man does not come off as rushed or poorly thought-out, despite being the Coens’ third film in as many years. In fact, it’s nothing short of exceptional.

The key to watching this particular cinematic endeavor is an appreciation for dark comedy. Reeeal dark. The film can come off as a fairly colossal downer without this perspective, since it centres around a protagonist, Larry Gopnik (played flawlessly by Michael Stuhlbarg), whose life is slowly going to hell in a hand basket.

Actually, scratch that. A breadbasket.

Nah, that’s still a little small. His life is going to hell in a wooden keg.

Without giving too much away, Larry Gopnik is facing divorce, career sabotage, and mountainous financial trouble, while his brother and son add to his burdens with problems of their own. It doesn’t sound particularly uplifting, but there’s comedic value in the way the film portrays Larry’s struggle, and in a way, there is almost humour to be found in the sheer volume of crap that he has to deal with. And that’s where A Serious Man becomes a profound statement on “life.”

I have to put “life” in quotation marks, because to describe something, anything, as being “about life” tends to sound stupid right out of the gate. But A Serious Man puts a lot of things in perspective as the film progresses, and can even be therapeutic in its implicit commentary on the (often confused) priorities of (often confused) North Americans.

Although the film is set in and around 1970, its message is timeless: shit happens. But it happens to everyone, and the magnitude of it is often misunderstood. The moment we can find humour in a situation like Larry Gopnik’s is the moment we can face our own struggles with a more level-headed outlook. Ironically, A Serious Man serves to encourage the viewer to take things a little less seriously.

But in addition to being an awesome life experience, A Serious Man is also a genuinely well-made movie. It is exceptionally cast, and functions as a charming period piece nodding nostalgically to suburban life in the 1970s. And the Coens definitely deserve that Best Original Screenplay nomination at the Oscars this year, even if Quentin Tarantino takes the win for Inglorious Basterds.

Overall, A Serious Man is a well-rounded, deeply layered piece of dark comedy with transferable value to everyday “life.” I’d highly recommend it, and I think you should probably watch it tonight.

Seriously.

Pose Reviews A Movie. #2: The Big Lebowski (1998)

Well I won’t lie to you. The first time I saw The Big Lebowski back in 2006, I didn’t like it.

Nowadays, I probably couldn’t even tell you why. It’s not that I didn’t dig The Dude and his charmingly mellow demeanour. (Which I did.)

It’s not that I didn’t find John Turturro’s portrayal of Jesus, the unnecessarily hardcore bowler, to be downright hilarious. (Which it is.)

And it’s not that Walter, played by John Goodman, pissed me off more then than he does now. (Which he does.)

For some reason, this cult classic from the Brothers Coen just didn’t come together for me. I didn’t jive with Lebowski, and for two years, I let this opinion stand.

Fast-forward to 2008.

I’m on a four-month exchange in Denmark, it’s a Tuesday night, and my roommate suggests that we watch it.

Now, I have a situation on my hands. Either I can agree, and pretend I’ve never seen it, or I can tell him what I really thought, and risk a really awkward living situation for the next several months.

I KNOW how much people who love The Big Lebowski love The Big Lebowski, and the last thing I want to do is offend one of them, IN THEIR OWN HOME!

But, seeing as how he was a peaceful, non-violent fellow, indeed the Danish equivalent of The Dude himself, I levelled with him.

I said something like, “I don’t know man, I watched that movie like two years ago and couldn’t get into it.” And then promptly dove behind a chair in anticipation of something flying across the room with my head as its eventual destination.

But he just grinned and asked, “Did you watch it with people who also hadn’t seen it before?”

I had. But why did it matter?

And then he revealed to me the divine secret of The Big Lebowski.

“The thing with The Big Lebowski is, you’ve got to watch it with someone who loves it. You’ll laugh when they laugh, and you’ll see what they see in the film. And once you’ve done that, you’ll love it too. I’ve seen it happen a thousand times, and I promise that once you’ve watched it with me, you’ll change your mind.”

So I did. And sure enough, I was converted. I finally came to appreciate the sheer magnitude of the film’s zaniness, the witty dialogue, the outlandish yet consistent character portrayals, and the proof that Joel and Ethan Coen have nothing short of a gift for niche filmmaking.

These Coen brothers have a knack for pinpointing tiny sects of American culture, and making them larger than life by bringing them to the screen. In The Big Lebowski’s case, Joel and Ethan use an elaborate kidnapping scheme to highlight the uniquely distinct personalities and world-view of a couple of bowling fanatics, one of America’s thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of subcultures. And although The Dude and Walter Sobchak probably aren’t indicative of The Bowler at Large in America, they’re such endearing personages that we can’t help but wish they were.

The Big Lebowski takes the bowlers out of the bowling alley, confronts them with an outlandish situation they’d be highly unlikely to face under regular circumstances, and derives unparalleled humour from the way they conduct themselves in their interactions with society’s rich and eccentric.

Its brilliance is in its specificity, and it’s why a movie like The Big Lebowski is so rare, and thus so beloved. In fact, Big Lebowski fanatics occupy a similar ‘cult subculture’ to the bowling fanatics in the film, which gives America yet another niche of people to embrace. And the legend continues.

So here I am, a Big Lebowski convert, who has just been told by his girlfriend that she hasn’t seen the film. So what do I do? I tell her exactly what my Danish roommate told me--that she should watch it with someone who loves it, and now that I do, that someone might as well be me. So we rented it and watched it on Valentine’s Day, and sure enough, she joined the prestigious club. And one day she’ll do the same for one of her friends, and on it goes.

So that’s the story. It seems a bit silly to write a standard review for a film that has been so loved for so long by so many, so instead I wanted to provide this prescription for how to view it. If you haven’t seen The Big Lebowski, or saw it once and didn’t like it, try it with someone who loves it. I guarantee you know someone who does--and after that viewing, I can almost promise that your opinion will change.

And if not, fuck it. Just go bowling.

Wendy's Films of 2010 #6: Intolerable Cruelty (2003)

Now this is a romantic comedy I can get behind! Good music, great casting, and humour broad enough for a wider audience, but specific enough to be appreciated on a more personal level. When the film opened with Geoffrey Rush driving down a sunny street lined with palm trees and singing Simon and Garfunkel's The Boxer, it was love at first sight. I always love George Clooney's wry tone and handsome visage, not to mention the beautiful and sarcastic Catherine Zeta-Jones, and here their chemistry adds a nice touch to the Coen's "romantic comedy with bite," as the tagline puts it. If you're in the mood for something light but still well-crafted, check this one out.