Être Llewyn Davis

Much like most other movies by the Coen's, this seemed very different to everything else they have done. Before seeing it, I expected it to be a sincere attempt at portraying a Dylan-like figure, with a heavy focus on the music itself, and also with a whole lot of nostalgia. This is kind of true, but these are not the aspects of the film that'll stay with you (even though the music was really good!).

There's not really much of a plot in this movie, but it's so well crafted that you hardly notice. Llewyn has a goal, but it's obvious from the start that this movie is not about reaching that goal, but rather about his every day struggle, and the life as a folk musician in an almost mythical period of music history. Llewyin is an interesting character, flawed but easy to like. His struggle feels real, and plays into an overarching theme of how your fate can be out of your hands, but also how perseverance can lead to something good.

The movie is similar to road movies in that it features a lot of different characters that Llewyn meets and interacts with. Some of these are very much Coen-esque, and I'm always amazed by how Coen manages to establish such layered side characters, despite them only appearing on screen briefly. Bot casting and writing must be stellar to be able to do this, and they seem to do it all the time.

It ends in a way that makes the movie more than just a mood piece, and opens up for some interesting discussions. Once again, they've managed to make a brilliant film.

Inside Llewyn Davis is an intimate, well-executed, and honest slice of life. It features a humanistic, heartfelt performance by Oscar Isaac as the titular folk singer, arresting cinematography, and a sharp, tight-fisted script by the Coen brothers, who also directed.

It's Greenwich Village in the early sixties, when folk music was either coming into its own or ready to be usurped by a more mainstream genre. Llewyn has no home, drifting from gig to gig and crashing on couch after couch as a matter of design; is vagrancy is his life's plan. Llewyn is at turns a noble soul who exists for the sake of making the music he wants to make and a resentful twerp who mooches off friends just to sustain his unsustainable lifestyle.

The movie is only somewhat linear, with closing scenes mirroring opening scenes, and it is told entirely from Llewyn's point of view. The Coen brothers masterfully show us not only Llewyn's perspective but also an outside perspective; this allows us to feel both empathy and loathing toward him.

Llewyn is nothing if not complex. The movie does a terrific job of avoiding the usual clichés, such as a down-on-his-luck musician catching a lucky break, or a bitter man having a quick change of heart. It's not that Llewyn is constantly sneering at everyone, holding his poverty up as both a shield and a trophy, it's that he is so multilayered that when he does a kind act or offers some praise or thanks, we don't feel that his doing so is in any way out of character. Llewyn is a self-tortured soul, but unlike caricatures of wandering folkies, he is at his center a realist, albeit a prideful one.

During his travels and travails, Llewyn encounters people ranging from the genuine (his singing friends Jim and Jean, played by Justin Timberlake and Carey Mulligan) to the absurd (a rotund, blustery John Goodman). Oh, and a cat that travels with Llewyn - at least until he can get him or her back to the owner. The encounters with the genuine folks feel just as normal as if you or I encountered them; those with the more absurd of the lot feel perfectly surreal, and when they do end one almost wonders if we've all imagined the encounters through Llewyn himself.

The music is beautiful and moving. Isaac himself performs Llewyn's songs, with a sweet, vulnerable voice that offers a touch of soul to Llewyn's otherwise-bleak surroundings. When Llewyn is really on, you can feel his pain leap right off the screen into your brain; when he appears to be going through the motions and not singing from his heart, you can feel the lack of depth that his intended audience also feels. Isaac is just flat-out terrific.

Ultimately, it is Isaac and the music that push this film into the territory of great cinema. The story itself is stark, moody, unyielding - just like a New York City winter, really. And the movie, like Llewyn's own life, appears to have no point - except to illustrate just how pointless Llewyn is making his life, through his stubborn marriage to his craft and a desire to stay uprooted

This is the first time I've felt compelled to write a review for on IMDb. There are only a few movies in history that have impacted me as much.

The first time I saw Inside Llewyn Davis, it left me feeling empty and confused. While I appreciated the music, the acting, and the cinematography, I couldn't understand why anyone would love this movie (and I am a huge Coen fan). After all, it's just scene after scene of a jerk getting beaten up by life with no real plot progression and no real reason to care about any of the characters.

I then came across the movie again on TV and decided to give it another chance.

After this second viewing, the movie's themes connected with me in a big way. After my third and fourth viewing, it shook me to my core.

This movie is almost too realistic. It follows none of the conventional "rules" and there is no winner or hero. There's no real drama. There's no "silver lining". There's only struggle. And then acceptance.

For every one Bob Dylan there are myriad Llewyn Davis'. Really talented musicians and artists that work really hard and simply don't catch the lucky break. People go under the radar, under-appreciated and overlooked. People that never make it big and therefore question whether they should be doing it at all.

This is a film for the everyday folk; a beautiful empathetic look at art, music, and everyday struggle.

At some point of this the folk singer we've been following is stranded at night by the side of the road in a car with possibly a dead man and a cat, another man has just been arrested by police for not much of a reason. He gets out to hitch a ride and there's only a cold, indifferent night with strangers in their cars just going about.

This is the worldview the Coens have been prodding, sometimes for a laugh, sometimes not. I can't fault them, it does seem to be inexplicably cold out there some nights. They're thinkers first of all, intellectuals, so it stings them more so they try to think up ways of mocking that thinker who is stung by the cold to amuse themselves and pass the night.

So this is what they give us here. A joyless man for no particular reason, who plays decent music that people enjoy or not for no particular reason, who the universe has turned against. The Coens don't pretend to have any particular answer either of why this is, why the misery. It might have something to do with having lost a friend, something to do with not having learned to be simply grateful for a small thing. It might have something to do with something he did, the initial beating up in the alley is there to insert this. Sometimes it's just something that happens as random as a cat deciding to step out of the door and the door closing before you can put it back in. Most of the time it all kind of snowballs together.

It's a noir device (the beating - cat) bundling guilt with chance so we'll end up with a clueless schmuck whose own contribution to the nightmare is inextricable from the mechanics of the world. The Coens have mastered noir so they trot it here with ease: the more this anti-Dude fails to ease into life the more noir anomaly appears around him.

Of course the whole point is that it's not such a bad setup; people let him crash in their apartment, a friend finds him a paying gig, somehow he ends up on a car to Chicago where he's offered a job. It's not great either, but somewhere in there is a pretty decent life it could all amount to, provided he settles for less than his dream. (This means here a dream the self is attached to). I saw this after a documentary on backup singers, all of them profoundly troubled for having settled for less, all of them nonetheless happy to be able to do their music.

Still, 'The incredible journey', seen on the Disney poster, may in the end amount to no more than an instinctive drive through miles of wilderness. The Coens are cold here even for their standards. I wouldn't be surprised to find it was Ethan, the more introverted of the two, ruminating on a meaningless art without his partner.

Is there a way out in the end? Here's the trickiest part, especially for an intelligent mind. You can't just kid yourself with any other happiness like Hollywood has done since Chaplin. You know it has to be invented to some degree, the point of going on, yet truthful. Nothing here. More music, a reflection. It's the emptiest part of the film as if they didn't know themselves what to construct to put him back on stage. Visually transcending was never their forte anyway. They merely end up explaining the wonderful noir ambiguity of that first beating.

Still they are some of the most dependable craftsmen we have and in the broader Coen cosmos this sketches its own space.

This Coen brothers take on the legendary US folk scene in the early 60s, through a down on his luck protagonist, gives nice touch of Greenwich village atmosphere and struggles of an aspiring musician. The musician, based on some of the later famous folk personalities whose music was used, is talented, not mediocre or anything like that, though he has had a tough moment in his life, losing his singing partner to suicide, due to cruelties that he is also exposed to. He struggles without money, and amused Coens take a dark look at the heroic battles of an aspiring artist, who finds little understanding and all the condemnation in his surroundings. Judging by the many condemning comments on this site, subtleties have been lost on the masses. It is a cruel society that equates success with moral virtue, and considers poverty as a moral sin. The artist due to his integrity refuses some chances for commercial success, but even that is construed as his failing by some of the comments, and therefore much of vulhgar mob. Thus, the joke is again turned on the shallow members of the public, who celebrate reality stars while condemn a clearly virtuous, but struggling actor, just because he lacks success. In the end, we get a glimpse of Bob Dylan, who had a powerful gift that was ultimately not possible to deny, but only after he was discovered by some wise people, and who famously snubbed the booing mob and the shallow journalists and could afford to follow his own path. Instead of celebrating the success, Coens shed light on the struggle, and provide an opportunity for the unsophisticated non-creative consumer mob to demonstrate their monstrosities and in some case appallingly complete lack of empathy and absolute inability to distinguish poverty from lack of virtue, bad luck from lack of talent, terrible circumstances from moral deficits. The conclusion is again, that people who do get, through the sheer combination of power of their talent, personality and good luck, to the top, have every reason to shun the shallow hating mob that would, no doubt, shred them to pieces with gusto if they had fallen to bad luck.