Larry Gopnik : It's a long story. Sy Ableman : Do you drink wine? Because this is an incredible bottle. This is not Mogen David. This is a - heh heh - a wine, Larry.
Rabbi Nachtner : Is it Larry Gopnik : Well, isn't that why you're telling me? Rabbi Nachtner : Acceptable. Nachtner says, look. The teeth, we don't know. A sign from Hashem? Don't know. Helping others
A Serious Man isn't a movie en route for be solved. It's a film so as to revels in its paradoxes because those paradoxes illustrate what it means en route for be Jewish right from the aperture parable about the dybbuk. Arguably Joel and Ethan Coen's most oblique film since Barton Fink, A Serious Be in charge of is also the brothers' most basic examination of their Jewish upbringing after that how it crashes up against their American roots. To be Jewish is itself a paradox—an outsider always active among other communities waiting for the inevitable next exodus, an exodus that's also key to your identity. En route for understand A Serious Man, or by least to embrace its paradoxes, we must first look to its aperture scenes, which force us into a paradox within a paradox. The film's epigraph quotes the Rashi, a medieval French rabbi who wrote extensively arrange the Talmud books of Jewish act and the Tanakh the canonical album of Hebrew scriptures including the TorahReceive with simplicity everything that happens en route for you, and then we get the parable of the dybbuk, a tone-setting prologue that refuses to be arrive with simplicity. Velvel tells Dora so as to Traitle Groshkover Fyvush Finkel just helped him with his broken cart arrange the way home and he's invited Groshkover over for soup to pay back his kindness. Dora tells Velvel so as to Groshkover died three years ago, after that that Velvel was interacting with a dybbuk, an evil spirit. Velvel thinks his wife is being silly, although when Groshkover comes over, she stabs the man she believes to a dybbuk.
His best friend Sy Ableman has a minute ago stolen Larry Gopnik's wife, and at once he comforts him on his beating. Such a man is Larry Gopnik. He lectures on physics in abut of a blackboard filled with bewildering equations that are mathematical proofs approaching certainty, and in his own animation, what can be sure of? Naught, that's what. His wife is departure him for his best friend. His son is listening to rock 'n' roll in Hebrew school. His descendant is stealing money for a beak job.
Our angle looks straight up. Now an angle looking steeply down: the blizzard falls not quite dead away en route for collect on a foreground chimneypot after that on the little shtetl street so as to lies maplike below us. It is night, and quiet, and the avenue is deserted except for one be in charge of who walks away from us, his valenki squeaking in the fresh blizzard. He carries bundled branches on individual shoulder and has a hatchet tucked into his belt.