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Q & A
Q&A: Exploring the spirituality of Coen brothers’ films Ken Lowery, Oct 20, 2009
Cathleen Falsani
Joel and Ethan Coen, the creators of such classic modern cinema as Fargo and the Oscar-winning No Country for Old Men, are known for their beautiful cinematography and their skill in crafting brilliant dialogue. They are less well-known for the spirituality in their films, which often seem to be overseen by an absent or vengeful God.
But there is a definite moral order in much of the Coens’ work, says religion columnist Cathleen Falsani, author of the recently released The Dude Abides: The Gospel According to the Coen Brothers (Zondervan). And while their work is often not explicitly theological, their insights into and questions about human nature have a lot to offer religious seekers.
She spoke recently with staff writer Ken Lowery.
When did you first start thinking about the Coen brothers’ movies as theologically or spiritually significant? When I was in seminary, I did a lot of work with film theory and religion in film. At that point I’d seen at least three or four of their films. The first time I saw one of their films was in college. I believe I saw Raising Arizona. And then saw Barton Fink and completely didn’t understand it. I remember being completely freaked out by it: “What did I just see? What was that? What’s in the box?” It probably took me the better part of a decade to figure out what was really going on in Barton Fink.
I started thinking about the Coens in terms of one of these “Gospel according to” books three years ago, when I moved to Zondervan. I gave them a number of book proposals—some serious, some not so serious. I had this idea about the “gospel according to the Coen brothers” as this silly little personal hobby kind of project. I felt strongly that this is exactly the kind of work that Christian authors should be doing. There are rabid Coen brothers’ fans, and when people are so wedded to an artist or to a piece of cultural artifact as passionately as Coen fans are, it makes me as a journalist, as somebody who’s a culture watcher, go “OK, why?”
And when you look at the Coen brothers’ films, it’s not because you like their style, because their style changes dramatically from picture to picture. So what is it that attracts them? And I started unpacking this. And I think it’s the spirituality that is expressed in their films: the spiritual yearning, the existential questions—that is what I see in all their films, some much more articulately than others. Particularly A Serious Man. It’s one of the best films I’ve ever seen, and it’s probably vying for the No. 1 position with The Big Lebowski in terms of my favorite of their films.
The trailer for A Serious Man plays it like a black comedy. It is a black comedy—a very black comedy. And it’s a very, very important film spiritually. They’re asking, “Why is there suffering?” and “Why do bad things happen to good people?” And so far as I know, no religion has an adequate answer for that. And [the Coens] don’t try to give one. That’s a universal question—that “why?”—which is something we should never ask, because if we get stuck on the why and you never get an answer, then you’re miserable.
The premise for A Serious Man seemed like a deliberate riff on Job. Is that what you took away from it? I don’t know if it’s a deliberate riff on the book of Job. Somewhat. These boys went to Hebrew School and they were bar mitzvahed. I think they’d call themselves agnostic. They’re certainly culturally Jewish and religious when they were younger. They know the story. It’s easy to call [protagonist Larry] Gopnik a “modern-day Job.” But it’s more complicated than that. Those things are there, but that’s just the top layer. There’s always so much more depth to what they do.
The Coens only seem to have a few really righteous characters. Why is Jeffrey “The Dude” Lebowski one of your favorites? He’s incredibly decent, kind, patient. He demonstrates a lot of those gifts of the Spirit they talk about in Christendom. But he’s also kind of Buddhist. When he says the line that the book’s title comes from, “The Dude abides,” and he walks off chewing on peanuts with a couple beers in his hands—I don’t know about you, but I take great comfort in that, knowing that he’s out there. “The Dude, taking ‘er easy for all us sinners.”
I’m a Christian, and in my mind that’s how I think of Jesus. Not that the Dude is a Christ-figure, but they have something in common. So when I hear “the dude abides,” I always think of Jesus. In most religious traditions, there’s that dude—whether it’s the Buddha or God or Jesus—there’s someone who’s taking it easy for all us sinners.
How do you think he stacks up with their other righteous character, Marge Gunderson in Fargo? They have a lot in common. The highest moral quality, or at least one of them in the Coenverse, is being a decent person. By decent, I mean polite, patient, kind. And the two of them do that. You see them with these really foolish characters, but they’re always so kind. When it comes to Marge, who I do think is a Christ-figure, you see her in the bar with the two prostitutes and they’re just these dim-witted chicks. But she never makes them feel lousy or small or lesser-than. And in fact, she goes out of her way to affirm them when they finally spit out something that might be reasonably helpful.
And with the Dude, he’s as kind to Walter—who is onerous and a bloviator and a hothead and violent—as he is to Donny, who’s just innocent. It’s that kindness and nonjudgmentalism, and they don’t think they’re above anyone else. Everyone’s an equal. There’s a deep well of decency that those two characters have. Their movie No Country for Old Men seems to be one of their bleakest movies. Why is this movie in particular so spiritually haunting? I don’t think it’s their bleakest film; I think some of their comedies are far bleaker. But it is dealing with theodicy, and that’s a pretty bleak subject. If God is a good God, then why is there evil in the world? Why do the innocent suffer and the evil prosper? What do you do when you’re faced with an evil that feels like it can’t be stopped? We have a lot of that in the world, and I think it rang true. And they being the Coens, they didn’t tie it up in a neat bow.
I think the most powerful scene in that movie is when Tommy Lee Jones is visiting his uncle in the wheelchair. And he talks about how he thought there’d be some time when he’d come back to religion, or God would bring him back into the fold. And I suppose if I were him, meaning God, I wouldn’t want anything to do with me either.
And then the uncle says, “You don’t know what God’s thinking.” And it’s sort of a caution: We’re trying to figure out the problem of evil, but none of us thinks like God does. So maybe we should stop acting like we know what God’s thinking.
It seems like Llewellyn Moss’s act of mercy—when he brings water back to the dying man—is the very thing that dooms him. Does this conflict with the Coens’ usual outlook that actions have consequences? There’s always a reaction for the action; it just might not be what you’re expecting. There’s no quid pro quo with God. It’s about choices. That’s one of the hallmarks of their moral order—it’s all about the choices we make. There are no small choices. There are a lot of things leading up to him going back with the water jug, knowing he was probably going to walk into something. That if he’d maybe made different choices the first time around, what unfolded wouldn’t unfold.
You argue that films are a powerful cultural artifact, and that they may be the dominant language of our time. Why do you think that’s so? Film is passive, in that it’s presented to us. But it’s engaging—visually, aurally, with light and dark, with sound, with music, with imagery—and it’s storytelling. Storytelling is our most persistently powerful cultural gift. It’s something we do collectively. Whether we go see a movie in a theater, where we’re literally gathered together, when I watch it on my iPhone or you watch it on a plane, it’s something we experience together and we know that story together.
I hope that some clergy will take a look at what I’ve done, and realize that’s an important way to engage with their congregation because it’s a shared experience and because of the power of story. That maybe we should look beyond the things that are labeled “acceptable” for Christian circles. Take a look at what’s really resonating with the greater culture, and why.
In her new book, The Dude Abides: The Gospel According to the Coen Brothers, Cathleen Falsani lists 14 “Coenmandments,” or moral lessons derived from each of Joel and Ethan Coen’s films. They are:
1. What goes around comes around. 2. Every action has a reaction. 3. Don’t mistreat women. 4. Whatever you try to hide, someone will discover. 5. It is better to be kind than to be right. 6. Don’t be paralyzed by doubt or fear. 7. Beware of false piety. 8. Don’t get hung up on dogma and legalism. 9. Act like all moments are key moments. 10. Only God knows the quality of a person’s heart. 11. When it comes to suffering, there’s no good answer. 12. No one ever really knows anyone else completely. 13. Be compassionate, respectful, and generous—especially to strangers. 14. Don’t act like you know what God is thinking.
Cathleen Falsani
The trailer for A Serious Man plays it like a black comedy. 
