‘American Pickle’: Seth Rogen Crafts A Surprisingly Deep Brine With A Sweet Tale Of Family, Forgiveness & Artisanal Pickles [Review]

Based on an utterly ridiculous premise—a man who is preserved in pickle juice for 100 years and comes out of his hibernation unscathed in modern-day Brooklyn—it’s kind of unbelievable that Seth Rogen’s “An American Pickle” is a film at all, and a movie that someone actually greenlit. Originally a Sony movie, eventually sold to HBO Max in the COVID-19 pandemic, at first— in its Eastern-European-set prologue and first act, especially— it’s hard to imagine the quaint, peculiar, small stakes ‘American Pickle’ as a theatrical release, and anything more than the TV movie that it is now.

But then as ‘American Pickle’ quickly brines, marinates, and is seasoned with true colors and depth, something surprisingly sweet surfaces: one of Seth Rogen’s most mature works and a heartfelt ode to family, legacy and Jewish identity. In fact, as ‘American Pickle’ continues to develop throughout the movie, revealing unexpected layers and flavor, you’re left grappling with just how brilliantly it’s been packaged together. To the point you’re thinking, “Wow, did Seth Rogen just use the idea of hipster artisanal pickles to tell a story about generational ancestry and trauma, family, forgiveness, American division, Jewish heritage, and the importance of tribal roots?” The answer is yes, and it’s surprisingly great in that regard.

“American Pickle” is set, initially, in its long prologue, in the fictional Eastern Europe town of Schlupsk in 1919 which is as miserable and drab as it sounds. Hardship is everywhere and Herschel Greenbaum (Rogen) is a struggling ditch digger with dreams of a better life. His fortune changes slightly when he meets and eventually marries Sarah (Sarah Snook), another poor Jewish laborer who shares fantastically ambitious dreams with Herschel like one day tasting Seltzer water or earning enough money to buy a gravestone instead of dying in an unmarked grave like so many of her friends and family. Their brief bliss is soon interrupted by marauding Cossacks, and with their town burnt to a crisp, the newlyweds are forced to immigrate to America for an uncertain, but hopefully, better life. The two come through Ellis Island, settle in Brooklyn, and Herschel eventually finds work as a rat catcher in a pickle factory. Tragedy strikes, however, just as Herschel learns that Sarah is pregnant with their first child: he accidentally falls into a vat of pickles and is brined for 100 years.

When he eventually emerges, he has been perfectly preserved like Captain America trapped in ice during WWII (the off-hand, unheard “science” used to explain Herschel’s preservation is hilariously glib). While a phenomenon to culture and science, Herschel has lost Sarah and his child—they are long dead—and anger and melancholy soon consume him. Yet, there is one silver lining to his strange survival: a relative exists, his great-grandson, Ben Greenbaum (also played by Rogen), a good-natured computer coder and app developer living in Williamsburg.

Herschel can’t even begin to understand the world around him, let alone his grandson, and this generation and culture gap is really the chewiest parts of ‘American Pickle and where the movie really begins. Herschel can’t fathom how family remembrance doesn’t play a larger role in Ben’s life (his loving parents died in a car accident years earlier) or how he hasn’t used Judaism to properly mourn them. Ben isn’t at all religious and really hasn’t contended with his grief, and thus the schism between the two men, seemingly reasonable at first given the extraordinary circumstances. But the rupture grows to extreme levels and soon, Herschel has been kicked out of Ben’s apartment and is living on the streets, soon to be creating his own pickle phenomenon business that takes Brooklyn and then social media, by storm. What ensues is funny, but also an attentive grudge match between the two men and their vast differences.

Based on Simon Rich’s absurdist New Yorker novella, The Sell Out, it’s hard to read that piece and envision a movie which makes “An American Pickle” all the more impressive for the way it takes this premise and imbues it with a deeply brined consideration of grief, loss, family, American division and generation gaps. And it should be said, Rogen is terrific in both roles, really taking to the nuance and comedic subtleties of each character.

If you’ve ever wondered the hardship your great grandparents or ancestors went through and what wimps they would see you as if they saw your cushy lives now, this movie is exactly the movie for you. This idea seems to be Rogen’s exact motivation he applies to the American Pickle short story—an opportunity to examine lineage, where he came from, faith, and the way younger generations have abandoned the religious and moral ideals they’ve been taught as children.

In that sense, “An American Pickle” is a most unexpected Seth Rogen film, maybe less funny than you hoped, but still charming, amusing, and far more considered than you would have ever thought. Perhaps there are some parallels to Will Ferrell’s “Eurovision” comedy released earlier this year, in that it is less concerned with being as typically laugh out loud funny and more focused on being true to the inherent warmth and sweetness in its story (there’s an affectionate “Yentl” nod at the end, it’s that kind of movie).

Directed by Brandon Trost, the cinematographer from Rogen’s previous films (“This is the End,” “Neighbors,” “The Interview”), “An American Pickle” isn’t visually stunning per se, but it is well shot and very careful about its particular tone, a mix of absurdism and more thoughtful subjects about the human condition. There’s a terrific score by Nami Melumad which saturates the film with a subtle, but meaningful dolor that reflects the movie’s ideas about trauma, pain, suffering, and hardship.

Rogen being Rogen, the ideas of bellicose division, misunderstanding, and miscommunication are cleverly threaded throughout with suitable allusions to our Current Dark Ages crisis. Twitter and cancel culture get their moment in the spotlight (hilarious), as do the ideas of cultural friction, polarization, and the like. Rest easy, however, before ‘Pickle’ gets too political in its second half, it doesn’t overstay its welcome and gets back to this story of brotherhood and family.

“An American Pickle” is very Jewish in one sense, and given all its aspirations of ancestry and holding onto who you are, it’s very odd that anyone would think this story could make for a movie. Yet, it’s a testament to Rogen and Simon Rich, who also wrote the film, that it not only works but is also universally appealing in its loving themes, more than worthy of feature film status. Using fermented cucumbers as a jumping-off point to discuss your pedigree and family tree isn’t likely what you’d expect from Seth Rogen for his latest film, but hey, these are crazy times and perhaps that’s why ‘Pickle’ is such a tasty, sour-free treat. [B]