Long-Awaited "Inside Llewyn Davis" Review
"Inside Llewyn Davis"
starring: Oscar Isaac, Carey Mulligan, Justin Timberlake, Ethan Philips, Robin Bartlett, Max Casella, John Goodman, Garrett Hedlund
written and directed by: Ethan and Joel Coen
This is easily, hands down the best film of the year, and maybe even perhaps the past 10 years. That's right, a decade. Now, I know, that's putting a lot of weight on a film, especially a film that just isn't getting the award recognition during the award season.
Oscar Isaac is one of the best non-actors to ever appear in film, I believe, because every time he is on the screen, and since he plays the main character, it's a lot, you get a complete sense of his despair and utter depression just from looking/watching his face/facial expressions as well as his mannerisms. Llewyn Davis (Isaac) is the protagonist and perhaps the antagonist of his own story. When we meet him for the first time, we definitely get the sense that he has a lack of interest in musical achievement. He's had his chance at fame, when he was part of a folk-singing duo, but now he is on his own (for reasons I will get into soon) and with each performance that he gives throughout the film, you can tell that his heart is just not into it. That he has lost his passion for it all. It's in his eyes. It's in his voice.
I've read many reviews of this film, and they all seem to be missing the idea behind the Coen Brother's story. Sure, it takes place in Greenwich Village circa 1960, when the folk scene was just about to burst into the mainstream (thanks in large part to a man named Bob Dylan), but the film isn't so much about this scene and Llewyn Davis navigating himself through it and finding fame and fortune again. NO! The Coen Brothers have consciously steered clear of the vibrant and colorful world of the emerging folk scene, because their main character is in mourning. Instead, they opt for scenes of overcast skies, bitter cold, melancholy folk songs (all arranged to perfection by T Bone Burnett), soured and splintering relationships, always seemingly hanging on by a thin thin thread, because perhaps his "friends" can somewhat empathize with Davis, having all known his partner, Mike, as well.
Upon first seeing the film, I got many clear references to one of my favorite classic literature novels "The Odyssey." Davis finds himself in a cyclical journey (which the Coens chose to start and end the film with the same scene, extending the final scene a few minutes so that we can understand the journey he took even more, as if the Coens want to pluck at our heartstrings harder, just one last time- I implore you to try not to cry while watching this film, by the way). The Coen Brothers have chosen to throw in subtle, or not, references to "The Odyssey" by naming the runaway cat Ulysses. Now, on a side-note, the runaway cat plays an important role throughout the film, even though he runs away soon into the film. For me, the runaway cat was a symbol of Mike (Davis' musical partner and for all intents and purposes, best friend, who committed suicide prior to the film's beginning). Davis is staying at a friend's house and when he leaves, the cat runs out the door, and the door promptly shuts, which means Davis must take responsibility for the cat until he can return it to its owners. Now, there are some great scenes with Davis and the cat, two of which really stick out for me: 1) Davis is riding the subway with the car, holding him close, so as to not let him escape his grasp among all these strangers on the train. It's like Davis is trying to hold on to Mike. And the cat is looking out the train's window at the walls/world speeding by, with his eyes so expressive and sad, too...and then 2) Davis is in a car, with the cat in tow, which he's hitched a ride with a jazz musician played by Goodman and a beat poet played by Hedlund (both of whose importance and significance to the story I still don't exactly understand). Davis is left to make a decision of whether or not to take the cat with him as he is forced to hitchhike since Goodman's character is passed out from a heroin overdose in a diner restroom earlier, and Hedlund's character is handcuffed and driven away by a policeman after resisting. Davis and the cat share a moment in which we see them staring intently at each other until Davis ultimately decides to leave the cat in the car, to fend for itself. Now, I read that moment as something more, as well. It was as if Davis was making a decision to leave Mike in the car, as a way to almost force himself to move past the loss of Mike. But, also, at the same time, there was a part of me that really wanted Davis to take the cat with him, because it would have been the right decision, which brings me to another point I gathered while watching Davis' story play out. It's as if the Coen Brothers give him ample opportunities to make the "right" choices, and for whatever reason, he can't bring himself to do it, perhaps because he is stricken with unconsolable grief. For example, he chooses to take a simple day's wage over royalties on a potential novelty hit song by one of his friends, who happens to also be Jean's (Carey Mulligan) boyfriend (played by Timberlake); and then, when he finally makes his way to Chicago, he plays a tune for Bud Grossman (a renowned producer) and is subsequently told he doesn't necessarily have what it takes to be a solo artist, Grossman gives him a position in a market-oriented folk trio, which Davis respectfully declines.
Davis crashes on couches and is just left adrift through his own journey, as he comes to his realization, which hits him like a punch to the gut, literally. Along his journey though, he has a conversation with Jean (Mulligan) in which he confuses, "I miss Mike." Perhaps one of the most intimate moments of the film, when she actually lets her guard down to Davis, whom she's much rather berate and belittle. Very early in the film, Jean also confesses that she's pregnant, with Davis' baby, since he snaked his way into her pants, which Jean hastily points out he has a habit of doing...which begs the question: Why did Mike commit suicide? For all intents and purposes, yet again, we can be led to believe that it's because Davis slept with Mike's girlfriend, got her pregnant, he found out, and couldn't bear the pain. Davis finds out, when he set up an appointment for Jean to have an abortion, that Mike's girlfriend never went through with her abortion (and so, Llewyn has a child somewhere in Akron, Ohio. He could find out and visit, because there's a scene, where yet again, Davis makes a decision while driving on the highway to either veer off and take the exit to Akron or continue on his journey home, he of course chooses to continue. Llewyn expresses his love for Jean a couple of times throughout the film, but it is made very clear that Jean is not meant to be his Penelope (if we are to continue "The Odyssey" references).
And lastly, there is the film's music, expertly chosen and arranged by T Bone Burnett, but I want to look at Llewyn's first performance of his and Mike's tune "Fare Thee Well," which in the beginning still seems to have some heart and life in it, even with Davis singing both parts, but by the end of the film, Llewyn plays it for an anticipating crowd and with this performance of the same song, so much has changed (given the journey he has gone through and returned from). This final performance is like a headstone on his musical career as well as friendship with Mike. It's Llewyn's goodbye song. His vocals and gritty and painful, as he sings each word with his entire body. And then, he's done, but not yet because he has been beckoned to the alley to see a "friend," who happens to be the husband of a woman Davis heckled the previous night. The husband beats the crap out of him, and it's almost like the world is saying, you might be done grieving, but here's one last lick courtesy of your friend. And in the meantime, a young Bob Dylan has taken the stage inside the club and is singing "Farewell" back to Llewyn Davis. Now, I cannot take create for this revelation. It was only after a lengthy discussion with a friend, who reiterated a few of these points in the story to me, most importantly the musical revelation. Even though I didn't necessarily see all his points, the discussion certainly opened my eyes and mind, I was still significantly affected by such a depressing film that told a story of heartache and pain and depression and grief without making any compromises. Easily my favorite film of this past year, which I happened to view in 2014.
Now, you have to wait to rent it, but do it immediately, as long as you are in the right frame of mind. Be prepared to feel something, as the Coen Brothers know exactly what they are doing.
starring: Oscar Isaac, Carey Mulligan, Justin Timberlake, Ethan Philips, Robin Bartlett, Max Casella, John Goodman, Garrett Hedlund
written and directed by: Ethan and Joel Coen
This is easily, hands down the best film of the year, and maybe even perhaps the past 10 years. That's right, a decade. Now, I know, that's putting a lot of weight on a film, especially a film that just isn't getting the award recognition during the award season.
Oscar Isaac is one of the best non-actors to ever appear in film, I believe, because every time he is on the screen, and since he plays the main character, it's a lot, you get a complete sense of his despair and utter depression just from looking/watching his face/facial expressions as well as his mannerisms. Llewyn Davis (Isaac) is the protagonist and perhaps the antagonist of his own story. When we meet him for the first time, we definitely get the sense that he has a lack of interest in musical achievement. He's had his chance at fame, when he was part of a folk-singing duo, but now he is on his own (for reasons I will get into soon) and with each performance that he gives throughout the film, you can tell that his heart is just not into it. That he has lost his passion for it all. It's in his eyes. It's in his voice.
I've read many reviews of this film, and they all seem to be missing the idea behind the Coen Brother's story. Sure, it takes place in Greenwich Village circa 1960, when the folk scene was just about to burst into the mainstream (thanks in large part to a man named Bob Dylan), but the film isn't so much about this scene and Llewyn Davis navigating himself through it and finding fame and fortune again. NO! The Coen Brothers have consciously steered clear of the vibrant and colorful world of the emerging folk scene, because their main character is in mourning. Instead, they opt for scenes of overcast skies, bitter cold, melancholy folk songs (all arranged to perfection by T Bone Burnett), soured and splintering relationships, always seemingly hanging on by a thin thin thread, because perhaps his "friends" can somewhat empathize with Davis, having all known his partner, Mike, as well.
Upon first seeing the film, I got many clear references to one of my favorite classic literature novels "The Odyssey." Davis finds himself in a cyclical journey (which the Coens chose to start and end the film with the same scene, extending the final scene a few minutes so that we can understand the journey he took even more, as if the Coens want to pluck at our heartstrings harder, just one last time- I implore you to try not to cry while watching this film, by the way). The Coen Brothers have chosen to throw in subtle, or not, references to "The Odyssey" by naming the runaway cat Ulysses. Now, on a side-note, the runaway cat plays an important role throughout the film, even though he runs away soon into the film. For me, the runaway cat was a symbol of Mike (Davis' musical partner and for all intents and purposes, best friend, who committed suicide prior to the film's beginning). Davis is staying at a friend's house and when he leaves, the cat runs out the door, and the door promptly shuts, which means Davis must take responsibility for the cat until he can return it to its owners. Now, there are some great scenes with Davis and the cat, two of which really stick out for me: 1) Davis is riding the subway with the car, holding him close, so as to not let him escape his grasp among all these strangers on the train. It's like Davis is trying to hold on to Mike. And the cat is looking out the train's window at the walls/world speeding by, with his eyes so expressive and sad, too...and then 2) Davis is in a car, with the cat in tow, which he's hitched a ride with a jazz musician played by Goodman and a beat poet played by Hedlund (both of whose importance and significance to the story I still don't exactly understand). Davis is left to make a decision of whether or not to take the cat with him as he is forced to hitchhike since Goodman's character is passed out from a heroin overdose in a diner restroom earlier, and Hedlund's character is handcuffed and driven away by a policeman after resisting. Davis and the cat share a moment in which we see them staring intently at each other until Davis ultimately decides to leave the cat in the car, to fend for itself. Now, I read that moment as something more, as well. It was as if Davis was making a decision to leave Mike in the car, as a way to almost force himself to move past the loss of Mike. But, also, at the same time, there was a part of me that really wanted Davis to take the cat with him, because it would have been the right decision, which brings me to another point I gathered while watching Davis' story play out. It's as if the Coen Brothers give him ample opportunities to make the "right" choices, and for whatever reason, he can't bring himself to do it, perhaps because he is stricken with unconsolable grief. For example, he chooses to take a simple day's wage over royalties on a potential novelty hit song by one of his friends, who happens to also be Jean's (Carey Mulligan) boyfriend (played by Timberlake); and then, when he finally makes his way to Chicago, he plays a tune for Bud Grossman (a renowned producer) and is subsequently told he doesn't necessarily have what it takes to be a solo artist, Grossman gives him a position in a market-oriented folk trio, which Davis respectfully declines.
Davis crashes on couches and is just left adrift through his own journey, as he comes to his realization, which hits him like a punch to the gut, literally. Along his journey though, he has a conversation with Jean (Mulligan) in which he confuses, "I miss Mike." Perhaps one of the most intimate moments of the film, when she actually lets her guard down to Davis, whom she's much rather berate and belittle. Very early in the film, Jean also confesses that she's pregnant, with Davis' baby, since he snaked his way into her pants, which Jean hastily points out he has a habit of doing...which begs the question: Why did Mike commit suicide? For all intents and purposes, yet again, we can be led to believe that it's because Davis slept with Mike's girlfriend, got her pregnant, he found out, and couldn't bear the pain. Davis finds out, when he set up an appointment for Jean to have an abortion, that Mike's girlfriend never went through with her abortion (and so, Llewyn has a child somewhere in Akron, Ohio. He could find out and visit, because there's a scene, where yet again, Davis makes a decision while driving on the highway to either veer off and take the exit to Akron or continue on his journey home, he of course chooses to continue. Llewyn expresses his love for Jean a couple of times throughout the film, but it is made very clear that Jean is not meant to be his Penelope (if we are to continue "The Odyssey" references).
And lastly, there is the film's music, expertly chosen and arranged by T Bone Burnett, but I want to look at Llewyn's first performance of his and Mike's tune "Fare Thee Well," which in the beginning still seems to have some heart and life in it, even with Davis singing both parts, but by the end of the film, Llewyn plays it for an anticipating crowd and with this performance of the same song, so much has changed (given the journey he has gone through and returned from). This final performance is like a headstone on his musical career as well as friendship with Mike. It's Llewyn's goodbye song. His vocals and gritty and painful, as he sings each word with his entire body. And then, he's done, but not yet because he has been beckoned to the alley to see a "friend," who happens to be the husband of a woman Davis heckled the previous night. The husband beats the crap out of him, and it's almost like the world is saying, you might be done grieving, but here's one last lick courtesy of your friend. And in the meantime, a young Bob Dylan has taken the stage inside the club and is singing "Farewell" back to Llewyn Davis. Now, I cannot take create for this revelation. It was only after a lengthy discussion with a friend, who reiterated a few of these points in the story to me, most importantly the musical revelation. Even though I didn't necessarily see all his points, the discussion certainly opened my eyes and mind, I was still significantly affected by such a depressing film that told a story of heartache and pain and depression and grief without making any compromises. Easily my favorite film of this past year, which I happened to view in 2014.
Now, you have to wait to rent it, but do it immediately, as long as you are in the right frame of mind. Be prepared to feel something, as the Coen Brothers know exactly what they are doing.
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