Review: Inside Llewyn Davis
Please note: This article is published as an archive copy from Philadelphia City Paper. My City Paper is not affiliated with Philadelphia City Paper. Philadelphia City Paper was an alternative weekly newspaper in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The last edition was published on October 8, 2015.
[Grade: B+] A folk singer in New York embarks on an odyssey to nowhere in the new Coen Brothers film.
RAMBLIN’ ROUND: Transient and narcissistic, Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) struggles to make it as a folk singer.
City Paper grade: B+
Inside Llewyn Davis, the story of a humbled (if not humble) folk singer surfing couches in 1961 Greenwich Village, is one of Joel and Ethan Coen’s most perfect films. After two viewings, I’m hard-pressed to identify a significant flaw in the film, which is built around a rich and nuanced performance by Oscar Isaac. And yet I regard the film with appreciation rather than love or any other profound feeling. It’s not the first movie the Coen brothers have set amid the snows of winter, but it’s the first whose heart never thaws.
Llewyn (Isaac), modeled on the singer Dave Van Ronk, is a folkie who doesn’t much like other folks. He’s functionally homeless, toting a swollen duffel bag and a battered guitar case from one friend’s apartment to another, but he’s not much of a houseguest. Whatever charm reserves he once drew on have long since been depleted; his welcome’s all but worn out. Llewyn has plenty of reasons to be cheerless: For one, the female half of the sunny duo Jim and Jean (Justin Timberlake and Carey Mulligan) is planning to abort what may be Llewyn’s child. But there’s another loss that hangs over the film. Its precise nature isn’t divulged till the midpoint, when Llewyn takes a miserable road trip to Chicago with a sullen jazzman played by John Goodman and his taciturn “valet” (Garrett Hedlund), but the way people speak of Llewyn’s former musical partner, Mike, it’s clear things didn’t end well.
Inside Llewyn Davis is a movie about artistic failure — and that’s not a spoiler. It’s 1961 in the Village and Bob Dylan is on the horizon. Llewyn’s a dinosaur who doesn’t see the comet coming. But more than that, it’s a portrait of crippling depression. Between Llewyn’s shell-shocked affect and the chilly light of Bruno Delbonnel’s cinematography, it’s a cold, valiantly unlikable movie, without the stylized performances that usually endear even the Coens’ most repugnant characters. Llewyn is driven to succeed, hitching a ride halfway across the country to play for F. Murray Abraham’s folk-scene impresario, but his drive seems habitual, even rote. You get the sense that failure might be the best thing for him.
Isaac channels most of his non-hostile emotions into Llewyn’s songs, which form the movie’s emotional backbone, but even on stage he’s turned inward, floating in a sea of black like a wayward asteroid. Although Dylan has yet to plug in his electric guitar and the coffeehouse scene is still lively, Llewyn’s already dead.
Inside Llewyn Davis | Directed by Joel Coen and Ethan Coen, a CBS Films release, running time of 105 minutes, opens Fri. Dec. 20.
