A Serious Man Page #3

Doctor

Well, you’re in good health. How’re Judith and the kids?

Larry

Good. Everyone’s good. You know.

The doctor takes a long suck.

Doctor

Good. Daniel must be—what? About to be bar mitzvah?

Larry

Two weeks.

Doctor

Well, mazel tov. They grow up fast, don’t they?

TINTED PHOTO PORTRAIT

The portrait, old, in an ornate gilt frame, is of a middle-aged rabbi with a small neat

mustache and round spectacles. He wears a tallis hood-style and has a phylactery box

strapped to his forehead. A plaque set into the picture frame identifies the man as Rabbi

Marshak.

Wider shows that the portrait hangs in the Hebrew school principal’s office, a white

cinderblock room. It is quiet. The only sound is a deep electrical hum.

Just visible behind the principal’s desk, upon which is a low stack of books and a name

plate identifying the occupant as MAR TURCHIK, is the top of a man’s head—an old

man, with a few whispy white hairs where his yarmulka is not.

Danny, seated opposite, pushes up from his slouch to better see across the desk.

We boom up to show more of the principal. He is short. He wears a white shirt and

hoist-up pants that come to just below his armpits. He has thick eyeglasses. He fiddles

with the transistor radio, muttering:

Principal

Hmm. . . eh. . . nu?

He experiments with different dials on the radio.

Danny

You put the—

The old man holds up one hand.

Principal

B’ivrit. (In Hebrew)

Danny

Um. . .

The old man looks down at the little earpiece pinched between two fingers. He examines

the contrivance like a superstitious native handling an unfamiliar fetish.

We cut to the source of the electrical hum: a wall clock whose red sweep-second hand

crawls around the dial very, very slowly.

The reb continues to squint at the earpiece.

Danny sighs. He encourages:

Danny

Yeah, you—

The principal’s tone is harder:

Principal

Danny sighs. He encourages:

Danny

Yeah, you—

The principal’s tone is harder:

Principal

B’ivrit!

This time his cold look holds until he is sure that the admonishment has registered.

He looks back down at the earpiece.

The door opens, ignored by the principal, and an old woman shuffles in with a teacup

chattering on a saucer. She has thick eyeglasses. She wears thick flesh-colored support

hose. She takes slow, short steps toward the desk. The principal continues studying the

radio.

Principal

Mneh. . .

The old woman’s gait makes for slow progress and a continuously rattling teacup. She

bears on toward the principal. The tableau looks like a performance-art piece.

She reaches the desk and sets the teacup down. She summons a couple of phlegm-

hawking rasps and turns.

She takes slow short steps toward the door.

The principal raises the earpiece experimentally toward his ear.

Close on his hairy, wrinkled ear as his trembling fingers bring in the earpiece. The

fingers push and wobble and tamp the earpiece into place, hesitate, and then do some

more pushing and wobbling and tamping.

The principal keeps Danny fixed with a stare as his hand hesitantly drops from his ear,

ready to reach back up should the earpiece do anything tricky.

. . . mneh. . .

Satisfied that neither the student nor the earpiece are about to make any sudden moves, he

looks down at the radio. He turns a dial. looks down at the radio. He turns a dial.

Issuing faintly from the imperfectly lodged earpiece is the tinny jangle of rock and roll.

The rabbi stares blankly, listening.

Danny waits.

The rabbi is expressionless, mouth slightly open, listening.

Tableau:
anxious student, earplugged spiritual leader.

Muffled, from the outer office, the hawking of phlegm.

CLASSROOM:

We are behind a man who writes equations on a chalkboard, shoulder at work and hand

quickly waggling. Periodically he glances back, giving us a fleeting look at his face: it is

Larry Gopnik.

Larry

You following this?. . . Okay?. . So. .. Heh-heh. . . This

part is exciting. . .

Students watch, bored.

. . . So, okay. So. So if that’s that, then we can do this,

right? Is that right? Isn’t that right? And that’s

Schrodinger’s paradox, right? Is the cat dead or is the cat

not dead? Okay?

BLEGEN HALL:

Larry enters the physics department office. The department’s secretary wheels her

castored chair away from her typing.

Secretary

Messages, Professor Gopnik.

He takes the three phone messages.

Larry

Thank you, Natalie. Oh—Clive. Come in.

y

Thank you, Natalie. Oh—Clive. Come in.

A waiting Korean graduate student rises from his outer-office chair.

LARRY’S OFFICE

He flips through the messages. Absently:

Larry

. . . So, uh, what can I do for you?

The messages:

WHILE YOU WERE OUT Dick Dutton

OF Columbia Record Club

CALLED.

REGARDING:
“Please call.”

WHILE YOU WERE OUT Sy Ableman

CALLED.

REGARDING “Let’s talk.”

WHILE YOU WERE OUT Clive Park

CALLED.

REGARDING:
“Unjust test results.”

He crumples the last one.

Clive

Uh, Dr. Gopnik, I believe the results of physics mid-term

were unjust.

Larry

Uh-huh, how so?

Clive

I received an unsatisfactory grade. In fact: F, the failing

grade.

Larry

Uh, yes. You failed the mid-term. That’s accurate.

Clive

Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on

the mathematics.

Yes, but this is not just. I was unaware to be examined on

the mathematics.

Larry

Well—you can’t do physics without mathematics, really,

can you.

Clive

If I receive failing grade I lose my scholarship, and feel

shame. I understand the physics. I understand the dead cat.

Larry

(surprised)

You understand the dead cat?

Clive nods gravely.

But. . . you. . . you can’t really understand the physics

without understanding the math. The math tells how it

really works. That’s the real thing; the stories I give you in

class are just illustrative; they’re like, fables, say, to help

give you a picture. An imperfect model. I mean—even I

don’t understand the dead cat. The math is how it really

works.

Clive shakes his head, dubious.

Clive

Very difficult. . . very difficult. . .

Larry

Well, I. . . I’m sorry, but I. . . what do you propose?

Clive

Passing grade.

Larry

No no, I—

Clive

Or perhaps I can take the mid-term again. Now I know it

covers mathematics.

Larry

Well, the other students wouldn’t like that, would they. If

one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he

likes.

Clive impassively considers this.

Clive

Secret test.

Larry

No, I’m afraid—

Clive

Hush-hush.

Larry

No, that’s just not workable. I’m afraid we’ll just have to

bite the bullet on this thing, Clive, and—

Clive

Very troubling.

He rises.

Larry

Well, the other students wouldn’t like that, would they. If

one student gets to retake the test til he gets a grade he

likes.

Clive impassively considers this.

Clive

Secret test.

Larry

No, I’m afraid—

Clive

Hush-hush.

Larry

No, that’s just not workable. I’m afraid we’ll just have to

bite the bullet on this thing, Clive, and—

Clive

Very troubling.

He rises.

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