Runtime: 1 hour, 44 minutes
Rating: R
Director: Ethan and Joel Coen
Quick Impressions:
One of my favorite moments at the movie theater in recent years came in 2010 when at the end of the Coen Brothers’ True Grit, a young girl (probably about thirteen) sitting with an older relative in the row behind us exclaimed loudly, “That was the most messed up movie I have ever seen! That director needs help!”
For the rest of the credits, my husband and I turned red in the face trying to choke back our laughter. Oh to be thirteen again and confident enough in my opinions to proclaim them as general, obvious truth in the middle of a public forum!
I don’t have anything nearly that momentous to announce regarding the Coen Brothers’ latest film Inside Llewyn Davis. I’ve been waiting to see this film for weeks, and when it finally came to a theater near me, I still had to wait a little longer because both it and The Wolf of Wall Street opened the week of Christmas, and neither is exactly what you’d call family fare. (I wish that same girl had been in the audience with us when we saw The Wolf of Wall Street. I wonder what she would have had to say about that one!)
Ah Christmas! That wonderful, spiritual time of year when we go to the movies and learn either a) Being wealthy will destroy your soul or b) Being poor will destroy your life. (If you’re trying to decide whether you’d rather watch someone being destroyed by excess or poverty, I think it’s fair to mention that being destroyed by poverty takes half the time.)
Though I’ve seen most of the Coen Brothers’ movies, you wouldn’t exactly call me a huge fan. Don’t get me wrong. I think they’re immensely talented artists, the type of people who are often and justifiably called geniuses. But I find that personally, I really only love about half of their films. While all of their projects maintain a high and fairly consistent level of quality, some movies just appeal to me way more than others. I wasn’t crazy about True Grit, for example. (It was well made, and I didn’t hate it, but I definitely wasn’t as excited about it as some people.) I could never really get into The Ladykillers, and I truly loved only one scene of Intolerable Cruelty. Somebody told me that The Man Who Wasn’t There was a brilliant masterpiece, but I didn’t think so. It’s probably my least favorite of their films, in fact.
My point is, although the Coen Brothers are such captivating filmmakers that their movies are always worth seeing, I never know ahead of time how I will personally respond to each new film they make. (If you’re interested, my favorite of their films is Fargo. I know a lot of people would probably pick The Big Lebowski, but Frances McDormand’s Oscar winning performance is one of my favorite of all time, and I think her character adds a welcome moral compass to the story. I also really like No Country for Old Men and Burn After Reading.)
Inside Llewyn Davis is not the Coen Brothers’ best film, but it’s quite far from their worst. I’ve heard some people raving that it’s the movie of the year (an opinion I can certainly respect but don’t share). I’ve also heard people complain that it’s the worst movie they have ever seen. To that I can only reply, “Seriously?” If Inside Llewyn Davis is the worst movie that you’ve ever seen, surely you’re either a) that thirteen-year-old girl from the True Grit audience b) extremely given to hyperbole c) both (a) and (b).
This is a good film, perhaps a great film, certainly not a bad film. I think its theatrical trailers present it very accurately. It’s a period piece about the struggles of a fictional folk singer living in a real community in Greenwich Village in the early 1960s. If you like folk music—and how can anyone hate folk music? It’s so mellow and yet simultaneously thought-provoking—then you’ll probably enjoy the film even if you fail to connect with the characters and find the story a bit depressing.
The Good:
Inside Llewyn Davis creates an aesthetic and then for its duration completely convinces us that we’re inside that vivid, particular world. Since I’ve said before that I was born in 1979 and that I’ve never been to New York, it should be obvious that I have no firsthand experiences of Greenwich Village in the 60s. But as we watch the movie, Llewyn’s world feels very real and totally encompassing. It’s full of detail—so full of detail. I’d like to see this again sometime at home so that I’d have the ability to pause the film and examine all the background details, all the set dressing and props that enhance every scene.
This odd quality to name—it’s beyond setting, beyond set design, too. Maybe you could call it production design, but it drifts into mood, even genre—is something the Coen Brothers almost always do right. I’ve never seen a film of theirs that didn’t pick a very particular aesthetic and stick to it absolutely. In the end, some of us may decide that we don’t like Llewyn’s world very much, but we can’t honestly say that we didn’t spend an hour and a half there.
Personally, I found the film relaxing to experience. The folk music is enchanting. A couple of songs seemed familiar, but there was a lot of stuff in there casual listeners of folk don’t usually hear. Oscar Isaac (whom I mainly know as Standard in the amazing film Drive) has a lovely voice and performs his songs very well. At moments he reminded me a bit of my father who considered a career like Llewyn’s when he was young but ultimately decided that wasn’t the best way to provide for a family.
After the movie, my husband noted, “I know everyone says Llewyn is a jerk, and I guess he is, but I kept thinking that his real problem is depression.” To be honest, I don’t think that Llewyn is such a jerk. Just because everyone keeps saying so doesn’t make it true. He’s a little prickly, yes, and he certainly isn’t what you’d call a people person. But how cheerful would any of us be if following our dreams led us to abject poverty and almost universal rejection? It’s not like he’s just coasting through life on his parents’ money playing up the idea of being a starving artist. He sleeps on the couches of friends (even acquaintances) because he doesn’t have an apartment. He takes public transportation because he doesn’t have a car. He walks very quickly because he doesn’t have a winter coat.
It’s not much of a secret that producing art for art’s sake doesn’t make you rich, so I’m not sure that this film really intends to teach us anything. (Ars Gratia Artis looks really impressive when it’s encircling that roaring MGM lion, but let’s not forget that MGM went bankrupt.) Typically the way to get rich is to produce things for money’s sake. Folk singers, poets, painters—people like this typically a) have a patron or side job b) give up and go into a more profitable line of work or c) starve/die insane/kill themselves. Llewyn emphatically does not want to be a sell out, but you have to sell something in order to make money. The scene in Chicago is very telling and seems to drive home something that Carey Mulligan’s character tells him when they meet for lunch. Llewyn doesn’t want to do what it takes to be successful. He wants to succeed by doing exactly what he wants. That rarely works out. But the goal of an artist shouldn’t be monetary gain.
As I watched, I thought the movie was about two main things: 1) What it means to be an artist 2) What it means to grieve.
In some ways, the entire film seems like Llewyn’s grieving process, a spiritual odyssey that leads him through strange places and ultimately back to himself.
Personally I absolutely loved all the stuff with the cat (especially because there are two cats). The symbolism is so rich that Llewyn ought to cash it in and use it to pay his merchant marine dues. When we finally learn the cat’s name near the end of the film, it’s funny, but it’s also a moment of great discovery. The name clearly means something to Llewyn. He sees a joke, but it’s a joke he carries with him for a while.
I also loved the humor of the movie. Before going, I’d heard from some people that this doesn’t feel much like a Coen Brothers’ movie, but it did to me. The late Jerry Grayson is marvelous as Llewyn’s agent Mel Novikoff. He and his secretary are completely hilarious together, and his favorite pastime is endearingly quirky as well.
And then don’t even get me started on the dynamic duo of Garrett Hedlund and John Goodman, the shining stars of the film’s most bizarre tangent. Seriously after these two are introduced, we suddenly feel like we’ve been watching the wrong movie. Surely Roland Turner and his driver Johnny Five should be the protagonists of the story or at least closer to the central action. They’re ninety thousand times more interesting than Llewyn Davis or anyone else he knows. Even though they only cross paths with Llewyn for a short while, they get our attention right away and continue to hold it even after they’re gone. And I have to say, the way that sequence comes to a close is brilliant and most definitely very Coen Brothers.
Also well done is Llewyn’s relationship with the Gorfeins, well and winningly played by Ethan Phillips (Neelix on Star Trek: Voyager) and Robin Bartlett. Stark Sands is good as Troy Nelson, too.
As is usually the case, Justin Timberlake looks good on the big screen. He has such charisma and stage presence. The character is a bit odd, but Timberlake does a good job in the role. Tonight when I played through youtube clips of all the songs nominated at the Golden Globes for my daughter, she recognized Timberlake as he performed the goofy but oddly charming “Please Mr. Kennedy.” She’s now terribly worried that it might win Best Song instead of “Let It Go” (which she listens to approximately one thousand times every day).
Giving us F. Murray Abraham as Bud Grossman almost feels like stunt casting. I mean there’s definitely a little meta joke in there somewhere, right? Salieri passing judgment on a talented but frustrated musician and giving him shrewd career advice? It seems funny to me, anyway. On a more serious note, his final bit of advice to Llewyn is one of the most resonant moments in the entire film. I found myself thinking about that poignant exchange right up through the film’s somewhat odd ending.
Probably what makes Inside Llewyn Davis most memorable for me is its ending. I think its structure is deliberately confusing or at least intentionally disorienting. After we left the theater, I had to double check with my husband about how exactly the film opened and what that meant in relation to the closing. I don’t want to spoil anything, but I do think that this slightly unexpected ending is one of the nicest touches in the movie because it makes possible so much additional analysis of the film’s themes and meaning.
I don’t know about anyone else, but certainly I walked out of the theater mulling over the line, “Life ain’t worth living without the one you love.”
Best Action Sequence:
To me, the best part of the first half of the film is watching Llewyn scramble to keep up with the cat. The cat is a highly sympathetic (and unpredictable) figure in the story, and Llewyn’s compassionate (yet bungled) interactions with him say much about the character and undermine (or at least shed further light on) the statements Jean and some others make about Llewyn’s character.
Best Scene Visually:
I wouldn’t be surprised to see this film get an Oscar nod for Best Cinematography. It looks beautiful, start to finish. I love all the intensely narrow hallways and eclectically decorated apartments. Some pretty potent visual stuff happens when Llewyn is driving the guy from New Jersey home.
Funniest Scene:
The way Johnny Five leaves the scene is the kookiest thing since Shakespeare wrote, “Exit, pursued by a bear.” What in the world is going on? This is probably my favorite moment in the whole film because it’s just so deliciously random and over the top that it somehow feels both highly unlikely and extremely realistic.
Best Scene:
Llewyn’s audition for Bud Grossman is definitely the most powerful scene in the movie. Oscar Isaac has a fine voice. His choice of song is a bit odd, but it clearly reflects two powerful themes that must be on his mind. (And no, one of them is not being a huge fan of the Tudor family.)
Poignant and thought provoking are Grossman’s advice and Llewyn’s response.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (Oscar Isaac):
Since you need to watch the entire movie to feel the full emotional impact of the scene with Bud Grossman, I’d say Isaac’s strongest single scene is that awful meltdown at the Gorfeins’ dinner party. That scene feels so real, intense, sad, at the end even a bit funny. From one point of view, Llewyn’s behavior here is deplorable, and yet he’s far more sympathetic at this moment than he’s ever been previously. It’s in this scene that Isaac convinces us that he’s not merely an excellent singer and musician, he’s also a fine dramatic actor.
Most Oscar Worthy Moment (John Goodman):
If anybody knows how to sell a wacky oddball, it’s John Goodman. In such a competitive year, he seems unlikely to get Oscar attention. Then again, when you look at his recent filmography, it’s hard to believe he hasn’t won sixteen Oscars by now already. Goodman always choses great projects, and he’s always totally committed to every role.
In Inside Llewyn Davis he plays possibly the biggest weirdo ever. I love the character. We only get to spend ten minutes or so with the guy—long enough to know he’s fascinating, long enough to conjecture that he’s nuts, but not nearly long enough to begin to discover what makes him tick. Think of a marvelous actor playing a rich, complex character. The first example that pops into my mind is Daniel Day-Lewis as Abraham Lincoln. Now imagine that you only got to see Lincoln for about ten minutes of the film’s total runtime.
Goodman’s character is so frustrating because he’s clearly fascinating and disturbed, and we never get a chance to find out any more. He’s not even really a supporting player. He’s more like the star of something else doing a brief cross-over or cameo. I would definitely pay to watch an Inside Roland Turner spin-off.
We definitely begin to realize how much we don’t know about Roland when he begins to describe how he’s dabbled in black magic. Goodman delivers these lines so compellingly that I’d watch an entire TV series spin-off about this guy.
Supporting Actor seems all over the place at the moment, so maybe Goodman does have a shot, after all.
The Negatives:
Carey Mulligan is a fantastic, exceptional actress, and I’ve loved her in everything I’ve ever seen her in except this. To me, her character here seems overplayed. There’s something about her voice, her accent, her diction that just seems so forced. It’s hard to imagine that anyone speaks that way naturally. Her speech just sounds affected, somehow, coaxed. Now for all I know, she may have watched film of Greenwich folk singers of the period. Maybe she’s nailing the accent. Maybe she’s speaking exactly as she should be. But it just sounds odd to me, and I have a hard time taking the character seriously. It doesn’t help that Jean is such an unsympathetic character whose behavior towards Llewyn seems at least as bad as any of the accusations she hurls at him. I wanted to see another side of the Jean character, more of the side that’s hinted that late in the film. I’d like to get closer to her, to understand her. To be honest, in a lot of ways I don’t even believe her. Jean’s character is the least authentic element of the movie. She feels staged, like some kind of stunt. She’s not natural enough, not multi-dimensional enough to come across as real.
As it was, my favorite character in the entire movie was the cat. Several people we meet and spend time with are interesting, but nobody is truly sympathetic. Now don’t get me wrong. Llewyn isn’t even half as big a jerk as he and others accuse him of being. I liked him enough to care about his story, but I’m very forgiving, and I’m also a writer who is much better at creating work than selling it.
I enjoyed watching Inside Llewyn Davis, but it’s the kind of film that leaves you thinking, “Hmm. What’s the point?” and you don’t know if you mean of that movie or of life, and you suspect you’ll only find the answer by going home and eating some dark chocolate.
Overall:
Inside Llewyn Davis is an entertaining, well made film about the real world of folk music in Greenwich Village in the 1960s, explored through a fictional character. The music is appealing. The production design and visuals are incredible. The acting is good, and the screenplay is superb. This isn’t a plot driven movie about making progress. Instead it’s about the strange, incredible journeys we all make in order to find ourselves and rediscover essential truths about important people and ideas we’ve lost along the way. As long as you’re not expecting a plot-driven, action blockbuster with a formulaic, happy ending, you might as well go and give the film a chance. If nothing else, you can enjoy a relaxing hour and a half kicking back in a darkened theater with a bucket of popcorn and some vaguely familiar, euphonic folk music.