Inside Llewyn DavisThe answers may be blowing in the wind; for struggling folk musician, Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac), it is a mighty cold, uncertain wind which blows him from couch to couch, restless and ungrounded. Set at the rise of the folk music revival in New York City, 1961, Inside Llewyn Davis follows the eponymous protagonist as he works to eke out a living performing on commission, struggling to get his solo career off the ground, and dealing with his own personal tribulations, including becoming the surreptitious guardian of a runaway cat, an unexpected pregnancy, and just trying to find a place to sleep at night.
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Another fine entry into the oeuvre of the Coen Brothers (Joel and Ethan Coen), who write, direct, and produce this film, Inside Llewyn Davis is another facet in the proverbial gemstone refracting varied perspectives of America, across time and locale. Here is a Greenwich Village, still very bohemian, the Gaslight Cafe the stomping grounds of Llewyn and others like him, including Jean (Carey Mulligan) and Jim (Justin Timberlake), who also perform there. They are among other people who have put Llewyn up for the night, letting him crash on their couch, although that doesn't necessarily mean to imply that Llewyn is a bum. He had found some success when he was a member of a duo, alongside his former musical partner, Mike, but now that he works to succeed in Mike's absence, he falters. His agent tells him he's solicited other markets, but nothings turning up in Llewyn's favor; nobody's buying his record, also titled "Inside Llewyn Davis". He crashes a Jewish couple's home, the Gorfeins, who treat him with overwhelming hospitality--more than once--although he inadvertently lets their cat out, later revealed to be named Ulysses, and Llewyn gets stuck with its stewardship. Llewyn carts his possessions around, few as they may be, including his guitar, the occasional excess supply of his records in a milk crate, and eventually Ulysses. He is treated both as a honored guest by those like the Gorfeins, and like a pariah by Jean, who has become pregnant following an encounter with Llewyn, and berates him with excessive vitriol. (Considering her venom, it's a wonder she got pregnant by Llewyn at all.) Llewyn doesn't even much appear to care for folk music; he snidely remarks when performing that "if it was never new, and it never gets old, then it's a folk song", a comment both endearing but also sarcastic. For Llewyn, though, it seems like it's a preferable career to a straight job, such as his abandoned career in the Merchant Marine, something which it is suggested his father once did, someone whom Llewyn doesn't keep in contact with. He does keep up with his sister--and crashes on her kid's bed--and rankles at the mementos of his past which she offers him, memories of a different time.
So why do it? What is Llewyn actually getting out of any of it? Llewyn persists as a self-inflicted penance because of some unexpressed guilt which eats away at him, over Mike and maybe more. He pulls out a record from the collection of the Gorfeins', where we see the two--Llewyn and Mike--smiling; I don't recall a similar smile on Llewyn's face for the rest of this film. In all fairness, why put up with Jean? Why become involved with someone clearly so hateful? Because in Llewyn's mind, that's what he deserves. Llewyn becomes aggressive when he is called upon to perform at the Gorfeins' home when they invite him for moussaka--he literally has to sing for his supper. It's not at the thought of performing (not really), but it's when Lillian begins to sing Mike's part that he panics. He resents Jean and Jim performing on stage with the clean cut and polite Troy Nelson (Stark Sands), and he viciously heckles a timid woman who performs there another night. All of these paint a complex psychological profile, inviting us "inside Llewyn Davis", his anxieties, insecurities, fears and doubts. His desperate attempt to claim fame by hitchhiking to Chicago to see a recommended producer named Bud Grossman (F. Murray Abraham) is a longshot, and forces him to endure the unpleasant company of a blowhard named Roland Turner (John Goodman), who sharply disparages Llewyn for his amusement, echoing shades of Orson Welles (albeit without the cleverness or wit), as well as a gravely silent beat poet calling himself Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund)--no relation to the robot of Short Circuit, surely--who evokes a little James Dean here, a bit of Jack Kerouac there. The cat he brings along his own odyssey hangs around like an albatross, because the cat represents his own responsibilities he so desperately wishes to abandon. But Llewyn knows that it is not the wish for liberation from responsibility he craves deep down, but from the heavy burden of guilt which holds him like a leash, refusing to be done with him.
Although Inside Llewyn Davis is a drama, it is also, technically speaking, a musical. Nearly all of the actors perform their own music live, and with rare exceptions, songs are sung from beginning to end. Time is given to listen to the song; the film doesn't rush us from one narrative bullet point to the next, and the music is mostly a contemplation on the state of Llewyn, especially when he performs. His music is often full of longing, regret, evocative of the blues. The first song we hear of him is "Hang Me, Oh Hang Me", reflecting that it is not death which is so fearful, but the long time settled in the ground. Llewyn drives himself to succeed in his desperate attempt to thrive in the folk music scene; but what looks like sprinting to the finish line is in fact him running away from himself. He claims he thought a good night's sleep would cure what ails him; but if that were true, he'd no doubt have found a resting place more comfortable than someone else's couch by now. The circuitous beginning and end of Inside Llewyn Davis suggests that while Llewyn may have gained some insight into his deeper dilemma, who can say if his own adventure has offered him a means to escape the prison of his own making, or rather if he will be trapped in a different kind of myth, rolling the proverbial boulder up the hill, chasing a dream, while trying to escape it all at the same time.
Recommended for: Fans of a character study of both a particular time and place, as well as an enigmatic man who is challenged to evaluate his own private suffering, hinted at ironically in the folk music he sings for audiences. One could argue Inside Llewyn Davis is the more introspective "yin" to the "yang" of O Brother, Where Art Thou?
So why do it? What is Llewyn actually getting out of any of it? Llewyn persists as a self-inflicted penance because of some unexpressed guilt which eats away at him, over Mike and maybe more. He pulls out a record from the collection of the Gorfeins', where we see the two--Llewyn and Mike--smiling; I don't recall a similar smile on Llewyn's face for the rest of this film. In all fairness, why put up with Jean? Why become involved with someone clearly so hateful? Because in Llewyn's mind, that's what he deserves. Llewyn becomes aggressive when he is called upon to perform at the Gorfeins' home when they invite him for moussaka--he literally has to sing for his supper. It's not at the thought of performing (not really), but it's when Lillian begins to sing Mike's part that he panics. He resents Jean and Jim performing on stage with the clean cut and polite Troy Nelson (Stark Sands), and he viciously heckles a timid woman who performs there another night. All of these paint a complex psychological profile, inviting us "inside Llewyn Davis", his anxieties, insecurities, fears and doubts. His desperate attempt to claim fame by hitchhiking to Chicago to see a recommended producer named Bud Grossman (F. Murray Abraham) is a longshot, and forces him to endure the unpleasant company of a blowhard named Roland Turner (John Goodman), who sharply disparages Llewyn for his amusement, echoing shades of Orson Welles (albeit without the cleverness or wit), as well as a gravely silent beat poet calling himself Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund)--no relation to the robot of Short Circuit, surely--who evokes a little James Dean here, a bit of Jack Kerouac there. The cat he brings along his own odyssey hangs around like an albatross, because the cat represents his own responsibilities he so desperately wishes to abandon. But Llewyn knows that it is not the wish for liberation from responsibility he craves deep down, but from the heavy burden of guilt which holds him like a leash, refusing to be done with him.
Although Inside Llewyn Davis is a drama, it is also, technically speaking, a musical. Nearly all of the actors perform their own music live, and with rare exceptions, songs are sung from beginning to end. Time is given to listen to the song; the film doesn't rush us from one narrative bullet point to the next, and the music is mostly a contemplation on the state of Llewyn, especially when he performs. His music is often full of longing, regret, evocative of the blues. The first song we hear of him is "Hang Me, Oh Hang Me", reflecting that it is not death which is so fearful, but the long time settled in the ground. Llewyn drives himself to succeed in his desperate attempt to thrive in the folk music scene; but what looks like sprinting to the finish line is in fact him running away from himself. He claims he thought a good night's sleep would cure what ails him; but if that were true, he'd no doubt have found a resting place more comfortable than someone else's couch by now. The circuitous beginning and end of Inside Llewyn Davis suggests that while Llewyn may have gained some insight into his deeper dilemma, who can say if his own adventure has offered him a means to escape the prison of his own making, or rather if he will be trapped in a different kind of myth, rolling the proverbial boulder up the hill, chasing a dream, while trying to escape it all at the same time.
Recommended for: Fans of a character study of both a particular time and place, as well as an enigmatic man who is challenged to evaluate his own private suffering, hinted at ironically in the folk music he sings for audiences. One could argue Inside Llewyn Davis is the more introspective "yin" to the "yang" of O Brother, Where Art Thou?