Those who have lived or worked closely with me will understand why I quickly related to Llewyn Davis. He doesn't have a practical bone in his body, and relies--directly or indirectly--on a lot of people to take care of his most basic needs. On the surface, it's because he's too poor to afford rent, but there's also an underlying disconnect between him and the rest of the world that's the source of both his brooding impotence and his artistic soul. I felt like I understood him, so I liked him.
At several points, Llewyn demonstrates that compromising his passion is to him synonymous with death. There's probably nothing he fears more than becoming his father, a former union man of the Merchant Marine whose joyless life has culminated in near-total paralysis. It's the fight against returning to the Merchant Marine himself that sows disaster for Llewyn and those closest to him. We slowly realize (as he does) that he has two options--sell out and have a career, or drown in his own artistic integrity. Both would leave him miserable. It's a dearly bought epiphany that hurts to watch.
Llewyn's definitely got flaws. My wife Bethany (being one of many practically-minded people who have to remind me to eat and sleep) had some trouble feeling for Llewyn when he refused any suggestion of structure or compromise. The only thing stopping us from not caring about him is that his screw-up lifestyle hurts him more than anyone else. I didn't have a problem with him, personally.
I was captivated by Oscar Isaac, who delivers an intimate and charismatic performance both musically and emotionally. In fact, I thought all of the performances were great. Seeing Carrie Mulligan play edgy was like meeting up with a High School friend who's gotten cooler. And all the action is captured in deliberate, tender cinematography that I'd call pretty near perfect.
The whole movie's in the music, and actually the music came first, as it did in O Brother, Where Art Thou?, the Coens' last collaboration with music producer T-Bone Burnett. This one may not be as much of a fan-pleaser, but if you know your folk, you'll see it's got ten times the research as O Brother's soundtrack. Llewyn's sound is moody, raw, and a little ahead of his time (1961), despite being firmly rooted in the traditional. He gravitates toward bluesy arrangements of melancholy and self-effacing songs like "Hang Me, Oh Hang Me" and "The Death of Queen Jane."
Early on, we hear a snippet of Llewyn's gorgeous recording of "Dink's Song" in duet with his late partner. It sounds young, optimistic, and more mainstream than the stuff he's playing now, which openly challenges his audience. It's the Hard Day's Night to his Abbey Road. He plays it again, just before the movie's heartbreaking conclusion, and the transformation that we've almost unconsciously witnessed is a little haunting. He's barely clinging to life by the time we glimpse an up-and-coming Bob Dylan play "Farewell" (his own interpretation of "Dink's Song") as Llewyn steps out. That's extremely significant. It's the arrival of the era of singer-songwriters, an era of which Llewyn will never be a part.
If there's one big problem with Inside Llewyn Davis, it's the fact that you have to pick up on these somewhat obscure suggestions implanted in the music if you want to understand exactly what the Coens are trying to say. The Dylan moment is a good example. If you don't know that it's Dylan, or what he did for folk music, you don't get that Llewyn Davis's chances of a career are eclipsing. Likewise, it takes a little familiarity with the folk genre to recognize the subtle things that distinguish Llewyn's music from that of the corny, more pop artists whose careers are taking off. It took me a few hours to piece it all together.
There's a funny circular structure to the movie too, which actively tricks you into confusing the chronology of events. It threw me a lot when I saw it, but the more I think about it, the more it starts to make sense. It's actually become, for me, one of the film's best selling points. I won't spoil it, but I do think it's good to be warned. I found Richard Brody's article pretty illuminating. If you don't mind spoilers, or if you've seen the movie already, check it out.
I'd guess that Llewyn Davis is a movie that reveals itself better with a rewatch. If that's not the kind of movie you want to see, maybe skip it. If you're an artist or into music, especially folk, go get tickets right now, because this is a movie that's as important as it is engrossing.
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