Jewish American Heritage Month

Posted By admin on December 24, 2021

(JTA) There is a Jewish interpretation of the story of Adam and Eve that situates the two back-to-back. Instead of God creating woman from the stolen rib of Adam, the two walk away and split crack into separate beings.

This is where we now find the Coen brothers, the Jewish filmmaking duo who have captivated audiences with their wacky, zany, beautiful, grandiose work for over thirty years: once a single unit, each indistinguishable from the other to the eyes of the average moviegoer, now improbably split crack into separate beings.

Joel Coens The Tragedy of Macbeth, which is seeing a theatrical release on Christmas in advance of an Apple TV+ screening premiere Jan. 14, 2022, is the first truly solo Coen film that is, the first to be helmed by only one brother in either of their careers. (Though Joel was given sole directing credit on some of their early films, this was due to a Directors Guild rule, and did not reflect their actual collaboration; his brother Ethan has previously written plays solo, as well.) In addition to adapting and directing Macbeth himself, Joel also co-edited the film under the pseudonym Reginald Jaynes perhaps a newly ascendant brother to Roderick Jaynes, the fictional alter-ego the brothers used for decades when they would edit their films together.

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The Torah is full of stories of brothers who betray each other, but Joel and Ethans breakup, according to their collaborators, isnt as grim as Cain killing Abel or as dramatic as Jacob buying Esaus birthright. In an interview with LA Magazine earlier this year, the duos longtime composer Carter Burwell claimed that the brothers simply dont want to work on the same projects anymore. Ethan, feeling burned out on filmmaking, is now turning his attention back to theater. Maybe Joel feels some kinship with his latest protagonist: like Macbeth, he pushes forward with his ambitions against the odds of his own legacy, if not prophecy.

A newly individuated director, known for his idiosyncratic approach to storytelling, looking to make a statement on his own: youd hardly expect adapting one of historys most frequently staged dramas to be Joel Coens next logical move. And in fact, in its close fidelity to the Shakespeare plays text, Macbeth is a tonal departure from every other Coen Brothers entry. Even when the duo is adapting anothers source material, as in No Country For Old Men and True Grit, their films tend to emphasize their creators singular (and, until now, single) voice a voice of relentless Americana, quirky dark humor and occasional off-kilter nods to Jewishness.

These signifiers which in the past have included explicit Jewish philosophical musings about the nature of suffering in A Serious Man, as well as gags about Jewish rituals and beliefs in The Big Lebowski and Hail, Caesar! have now been replaced by the Bards all-too-familiar iambic pentameter. The dense, macabre language is layered over an all-consuming atmospheric dread, as Denzel Washingtons gullible Scottish general and his scheming, seemingly ruthless wife (Coens actual wife Frances McDormand) execute their misbegotten plot to seize the throne by murdering those who occupy its line of succession.

Thus, a quirky, distinctly Jewish American sensibility (one that once allowed for a Vietnam War veteran to scream about being Shomer f**king Shabbos onscreen) has been exchanged for a classical one that echoes European cinematic traditions. This is true not only regarding the source material, but also in the visual allusions to the works of Scandinavian auteurs Ingmar Bergman and Carl Dreyer both lapsed Christians whose works frequently invoked an absence of God.

At face value, there is no overt Jewishness coursing through Macbeth neither Shakespeares original, nor Coens version, with the exception of the three witches curious spell recipe that calls for one liver of blaspheming Jew alongside gall of goat and slips of yew. (This brief moment is not, of course, Shakespeares most famous foray into depictions or discussions of antisemitism.) Yet the material is oddly appropriate for a storyteller known for spinning yarns about men who get caught up in their own doomed schemes.

As seen through Coens eyes, the ramping paranoia that seizes the title characters also echoes the watchful, calculating eye of our traditions. The inclination to celebrate success is nullified by the need to look over your shoulder, out the window, above your head to always be on the lookout for who or what may spurn you. In this way, the creeping tension of Coens Macbeth is quintessentially Jewish, capturing the apprehensive need for validation at every turn and the Torah, of course, has its share of power-mad kings consumed by fears that those around them may grow too powerful. The witches warnings, which alternatively edge Macbeth down his dark path and predict his own demise, become a substitute for our sages superstitions.

What is to be made of the most influential Jewish filmmakers of a generation parting ways, if brothers can ever truly do so? Some have posited that Joel Coens shift to a bleaker, more deliberate story with Macbeth represents a new journey, one that he was unable to undertake with his brother sharing the helm. Perhaps Ethan was responsible for more of the duos characteristic stylized zaniness, while Joels sensibility tilted more to traditional dramas.

Perhaps they really are a modern match for Esau and Jacob, respectively, with Joel now channeling his desire for the birthright of theater by laying claim to one of the most famous tragedies of the English language. (This metaphor sours when you remember that Joel is actually the older brother.) But evaluating Macbeth only by what it may have been with Ethan Coen onboard serves no artistic or critical purpose; it neglects the film in front of us.

A more fruitful conversation, instead, is what mark Joel Coen will leave as a solo filmmaker whose vast library of influences has always included his own work. With no reports of a feud between the brothers, its unlikely that Coen will eschew future references to Ethans work, even if only the sharpest, most Coen-obsessed minds in the audience can distinguish whose hand was responsible for what.

Will Coens singularity be the honor that he, like Jacob, loves beyond all other possessions? Or will his grasp for creative control liken him to Shakespeares tragic hero, dampening his achievements with the stain of what could have been? PJC

Read more:

The true 'Tragedy' of Joel Coen's 'Macbeth' is the Jewish filmmakers' breakup - thejewishchronicle.net

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