Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
Dirs. Joel and Ethan Coen
4.5 out of 5
The films of Joel and Ethan Coen exist in worlds of
their own making. Like little
idiosyncratic capsules of human behavior where mood and feeling matter more
than a plot, these movies are all about twisting together the frayed ends of
coincidence. To wit, a cat whose name is
revealed late in the third act may go a long way in unlocking Inside Llewyn Davis, the Coen Brothers’
fantastic Joyce-ian fable about the American folk music scene of the early
1960s. Oscar Isaac portrays the
eponymous Davis, a frustrated folk singer whose former bandmate committed
suicide by leaping off the George Washington Bridge. It’s a portrait of the artist as a
compulsively watchable asshole, his emotions constantly jeopardizing his
relationships with a small number of allies that only dwindles over the course
of the film.
Llewyn Davis may be cinema’s most compelling
character of the year. With a songbird’s
voice and a mule’s heart, he is just another beast of burden trudging between
Greenwich Village coffeehouses and lounges, part of a singular species in which
everyone has a box of unsold LPs propping up an end table. Offstage, Llewyn is quite unlikable:
sarcastic, glib, and kind of a hypocrite.
He questions the artistic integrity of one bohemian friend but isn’t
above recording a novelty single about the Space Race for some quick cash. Later, he hides behind the shield of
professionalism when his patronizing uptown friends try to make him literally
sing for his supper.
Alas, it’s only through music that Llewyn can
truly communicate and connect with others, as long as they’re willing to
listen. Inside Llewyn Davis is full of seamlessly integrated musical performances
by Isaac, as well as co-stars Justin Timberlake and Carey Mulligan as a married
pair of musicians. Mulligan’s character
is particularly harsh to Llewyn – for very good reasons – but her fury pales in
comparison to the indignity he suffers as a travel companion to a dismissive
and imperious jazz legend (John Goodman, making the most of every single frame)
as well as the owner of a Chicago nightclub (F. Murray Abraham) where Llewyn
makes a desperate attempt to secure a gig.
Inside
Llewyn Davis never suggests that its antihero is of any exceptional merit,
but neither does it assert that he’s entirely deserving of this shabby
treatment. Llewyn is more like an avatar
for the Coens’ mordant sense of humor about the universe. (See also: Michael Stuhlbarg, A Serious Man; Jeff Bridges, The Big Lebowski) Even it most touching scenes are fraught with
potential embarrassment and the looming threat of disappointment – Llewyn’s
attempt to reconcile with his father runs the gamut from awkward to moving to
mortifying. Yet none of this is
accomplished with any hint of malice. It’s
just the hint of bitterness that makes Inside
Llewyn Davis’ underlying sweetness more palatable;, you’ll hardly notice
when the movie is playing your heartstrings like a Gibson. Once again the Coens have managed to hide
genuine emotion within a masterfully-designed quirkiness and imbue 100 minutes
of failure with a foolhardy yet entirely human yearning for hope. Maybe Llewyn will never get it right, but he
has to keep trying. Indeed, it’s the
best that any of us can do.
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