The purpose of this column, ostensibly, is for me to vent through the lens of pop culture about my problems and neuroses. But my issues don't hold a candle to those of Larry Gopnik, the protagonist of "A Serious Man" (2009), the hilarious, moving, odd and deeply puzzling new film from Joel and Ethan Coen.
Larry, a physics professor in 1960s Minnesota, hits a bit of a rough patch in the two weeks leading up to his pothead son's Bar Mitzvah. His wife is leaving him for a holier-than-thou jerk while his daughter steals money from his wallet to save up for a forbidden nose job. His deadbeat brother is too busy gambling, soliciting prostitutes and draining a gargantuan cyst on his neck to move out of Larry's house. A failing student is alternately bribing him and threatening to sue him for defamation, and his potential tenure is being put in jeopardy by an anonymous smear campaign. And that's just the beginning of the pile-up. Seriously.
Larry, a devout Jew, seeks guidance from his temple's three rabbis in an attempt to find signs or clues about God's intentions. Why has his life come to this? What does he need to do to be a "serious man," as his wife's new boyfriend describes himself? How should he get in God's good graces? Does God even care about humans?
The questions are major, and it's no spoiler to say that the film does little to answer them — because, I mean, to do so would be to pretty much figure out the meaning of life — but I actually found some clarity about my own existence amid the chaos of Larry's breakdown.
I obviously related to Larry's son dutifully practicing his Haftorah portion (umpteen voice cracks included) and struggling through the banality of Hebrew School when all he wants to do is listen to Jefferson Airplane on his transistor radio (for me it was Death Cab for Cutie on my iPod, but same difference). But what I can't seem to shake about the film is Larry's search for meaning and purpose.
For Larry, being a "serious man" doesn't just mean being considered worthy in God's eyes; it entails having accomplished something, having studied, thought and felt deeply. Religious context aside — as hard as that is, considering the film tackles pretty much every significant Jewish stereotype from schnozes to guilt-induced nightmares — I've considered life's big questions, particularly when working on problem sets while deprived of sleep and hopped up on caffeine and precious candy. A sampling: What am I doing with my life? Why am I even in college? Though I have figured out the answer to the latter: higher earning potential. And, like, learning and stuff.
The topics I write about here are kind of frivolous and superficial, but I do seek to think and feel deeply. Instead of looking for guidance from a higher power in my quest to become a "serious man," I'm gleaning advice from my professors, peers and courses here at Tufts. My uncertainty hasn't quite reached the level of Larry's midlife crisis, so the problems have more immediate, concrete solutions. What do I want to be when I grow up (besides a fireman or the President of the United States, duh)? What do I want to major in? How do I forge meaningful connections with the people around me?
I may reach the point of an existential dilemma like Larry's in the future, but as of now, I'm content to solve the puzzles in front of me. As Larry says (in a dream sequence, natch) in "A Serious Man," "It's not fair to blame Hashem for everything. Sometimes you've got to help yourself."
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Derek Schlom is a freshman who has not yet declared a major. He can be reached at Derek.Schlom@tufts.edu.
