Are you 'Serious'?

THERE HAS been much debate of late as to whether religion is a force in the world for good or ill.

It's hard not to think of that question during the strange opening scene of the Coen brothers' "A Serious Man," set in a distant time and place in the home of Jewish peasants.

On a dark and snowy night, an elderly man visits the home of a man and wife, who debate whether he is a rabbi or a demon. The scene ends violently but enigmatically, signaling what lies ahead.

The opening scene carries with it a sense of menace and encroachment, one that persists in "Serious Man," which turns out to be a reworking of the story of Job, set in late-'60s Minnesota (coincidentally, the time and place of the Coens' upbringing).

Their Job is Larry Gopnick (Michael Stuhlbarg), a genial professor, dutiful father and husband whose placid world suddenly and rapidly disintegrates, and who struggles to see God in the whirlwind.

Encroaching evil (or the Coens' sardonic projection of it) takes many forms - pot, pop music, "F-Troop," infidelity, the seductress sunbathing naked next door, the failing student who offers a bribe, and on and on.

The Coens rarely seem completely serious, but there is such art and erudition to their work (and always the visual presentation) that their movies acquire the weight of substance.

For instance: Larry is a befuddled pushover, and the Coens find a brilliant way to illustrate how his passivity becomes a sin of omission. A harassing caller turns out to be a representative of the Columbia Record Co., who explains that by not refusing their record subscription offer, he's now a subscriber.

That's a priceless laugh for anyone who grew up in the '60s, but it also exposes the movie's chief weakness - Larry isn't much of a character. It's hard to find much sympathy for a man who does so little to defend himself.

Larry's only proactive move is to seek advice. From his lawyer (Adam Arkin, the only name in the cast), but more importantly his synagogue - he meets with a series of rabbis who dispense comically useless or inscrutable advice.

"A Serious Man" is widely seen as an autobiographical departure for the Coens, but you could also log it as part three of their religious trilogy - first, the Christian allegory "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" then the weird and forgotten "LadyKillers," with its Old Testament morality tale.

As in "O Brother," the Coens use popular period music with evocative cleverness - here, it's the recurring Jefferson Airplane anthem "Somebody to Love." The song is ultimately quoted as if it were scripture, and in the minds of the Coens, it may be.

Don't you need somebody to love?

In "A Serious Man," it's a theological query, and it's Somebody with a capital S.