
Every time a new film by the Coen brothers comes out, I dread having to hear from the same old so-and-so's who can't bear to slog through the Coens' peculiar brand of pessimism. The words "bleak" and "cynical" often pepper their reviews rather liberally, along with some gasp of regret that the brothers don't seem to have much sympathy for their characters. Jonathan Rosenbaum called their style "pop nihilism", and not in a positive sense. Before the release of their newest film, A Serious Man, I could practically hear them sharpening their claws.
As a die-hard fan of the Coen brothers, it's not so much the predictability of these reactions that irks me, but the general unapproachability of it as a critical argument. Dismissing the Coens as cynics makes as much sense as dismissing Frank Capra as naive: both are true, of course, but neither one is grounds for belittling the quality of their work.
Much of it boils down whether or not someone "gets" the Coens. Even if you understand where they're coming from and what they're getting at, if you don't have, at some subconscious level, something akin to their dark outlook on life, their films will almost certainly be off-putting, unsatisfactory, and pointless. Joe Morgenstern used the word "repellent" in his review of A Serious Man to describe the characters the Coens had written, but it aptly describes his attitude towards the whole film and the Coens' entire oeuvre.
What's so perplexing is that many of these critics seem to think it's a failing on the Coens' part that they have never gotten over this cynicism. Sometimes people call them "juvenile" and sigh: 'Oh, when will the Coens grow up?' As if this were a dark, teenage phase they never developed past, the filmic equivalent of a high school sophomore's black eye-liner and lip piercings. Maybe the Coens, like myself, have just never witnessed anything that suggests that the world might not be such an awful place after all, that people really are good at heart, that life does have some grand and noble purpose. More optimistic veins of thought are certainly nicer, but it's not as if anybody can help being a cynic.
There's a lot to be said for artists who are comfortable and secure enough with their own philosophical leanings to not feel the need to try and sugar coat any unpleasantness. Even if you accept that the Coens are antisocial juveniles - and there's no real good reason you should - then you at least have to grant that they're honest. It would be nearly impossible for any other filmmaker to fake the cynicism that the Coens pull off with total sincerity. Many of the critics who denounce such pessimistic ways often say that they wish the brothers' technical prowess could be put to better use, but what better use for an artist's skills could there be than to create works that communicate to others the way they see the world?
To watch A Serious Man - their most morally sophisticated work - is to feel what it's like to be Joel or Ethan Coen, to see the world as a pointless series of endless sufferings and inconveniences, surrounded by insufferable buffoons and irrational cretins (a sensation I'm rather familiar with, and, I assume, so are many others). This is not a world of their making. This is the world they live in. If David Denby really did think A Serious Man was "hell to sit through", I can't imagine what he'd think of sitting through an entire lifetime of it.
As a western New York Gentile from the 1980s, I have no overt connection to the 1967 Jewish Minnesota suburb of A Serious Man, but I feel a taut psychological bond to the intellectual frustration, the passive misanthropy, the hopeless irony that permeates its every scene, a bond expressed principally through laughter. Where critics like Denby see a film that dehumanizes life and drains it of meaning, I see a film that structures the horrible train wreck of life into a fine, sharp joke.
Perhaps I'm also an emotionally-stunted creep, but there's something close to genius in anyone who can make humor out of pure unhappiness. Life is miserable, you'll never get the answers you want, death is just around the corner, and isn't that just hysterical?
Monday, November 16, 2009
Brothers in Cynicism
Posted by
Lee Weston Sabo
at
2:02 AM
Labels: A Serious Man, Coen Brothers, cynicism, David Denby, Jonathan Rosenbaum
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3 comments:
Hi, nice work. A fan of No Country and Man Who Wasn't There but not into their more comic works (O Brother, Burn After Reading, though I adore Raising Arizona), I thought this a nice balance of drama and comedy. I also appreciated that it was more personal perhaps than some of their other films. So many great scenes and Deakins's work was outstanding.
>If David Denby really did think A Serious Man was "hell to sit through", I can't imagine what he'd think of sitting through an entire lifetime of it.
That's at the heart of the superciliousness of many a movie critic, I think: the axiom that this and every other movie experience has certain neat dimensions, and ought to hold to them. It evokes true experience, but as a delimited pseudo-experience isn't actually of it. Where true experience is a kind of chronic, sprawling, and long-developing affair (developing to no specific end, unless you manage a distinct satori before you're dead), a movie pseudo-experience is acute, some laughs and tears before the lights come up and you leave...
@GregL
That's precisely why the film's ending works so well, or at least one of the reasons. A Serious Man is only two hours long and takes place in a two week time frame, but it feels like an eternity, both because of its unsettling pacing and the complete lack of resolution.
Every review I've read of A Serious Man mentions that it's a retelling of The Book of Job, but some seem to think that the Coens watered the story down by replacing Job's boils and family deaths with middle-class annoyances like a nagging wife and bratty children. What the Coens actually did was remove any semblance of resolution and put the threat of physical destruction right at the film's end. Job's story has an end, but Larry Gopnik's has just begun when the film closes.
Calling A Serious Man "realistic" would be slightly more than ridiculous, but, from a Coenesque point of view, it's more true to life than the more conventional (but equally unsatisfying) Book of Job.
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