[after a long night of entertaining the audience outside his local coffee shop with invigorating wood block solos, contributing writer and “unwelcome nuisance” marrrrrrr, likes to relax with a warm meal and a character driven movie about the pains of being a musical genius ahead of your time. this is Midnight Movies.]
film: Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)
food: it cold, so ramen.
pre-game: on an oscar isaac kick, evidently. coen bro.’s movie about a struggling musician in new york in the ’60s. have only heard good things. one of those “been meaning to, but never have” films. so tonight’s the night. bbl w/ a post-game report.
post-game: Inside Llewyn Davis, a comedy-drama from the Coen brothers about a struggling musician in the 60s folk scene in new york, is so good at creating a fully-realized portrait of its title character that it makes the thinly sketched archetypes or backstory exposition dumps that plague plenty of hollywood films seem even sloppier in comparison. to be sure, lots of movies have other priorities, but even for character-based dramas, there are few that manage to do it this well.
after watching it, you might be surprised to learn that, absent nominations for best cinematography and sound mixing, Inside Llewyn Davis was largely ignored by the academy awards. it’s reason 587 for why major motion picture awards shouldn’t be taken seriously, but also strangely appropriate for a movie about a guy who, despite his noticeable talent, fails to achieve any kind of commercial success.
there are plenty of reasons for why Llewyn (Oscar Isaac) isn’t a household name. some can be attributed to circumstances outside his control. for example, after recording a guest spot on a sure-to-be hit, Llewyn, who spends the new york winter nights coach-surfing among anyone willing to put him up, agrees to be paid as a contractor, forgoing any future royalties in exchange for a small $200 check on the spot.
but there’s also the circumstances of his own making: why he’s so desperate for the $200, for one. his obstinate refusal to “play nice” with either industry expectations or even the people who give him the small amount of support that he depends on, for another. Llewyn Davis is the kind of guy who, after being coaxed to perform at a dinner party hosted by the Gorfeins — an older couple who have let him crash at their apartment — storms out, yelling “this is bullshit! … I don’t ask you over for dinner and then suggest you give a lecture on the peoples of Meso-America or whatever your pre-Columbian shit is,” but then slinks back a few days later when, once again, he needs a place to stay.
if that sounds like a nightmare to deal with, he probably is. Jean Berkey (Carey Mulligan), a fellow folk singer and occasional host, certainly takes every available opportunity to tell him as much. (Llewyn’s and Jean’s scenes together will be a joy for anyone who’s wanted to watch Carey Mulligan repeatedly and gratuitously call someone an “asshole.”) after all, it’s hard to root for a guy who, after getting a married woman pregnant, tries to hit up her husband for the money to cover the abortion.
amazingly, not only do the Coens and Isaac make Llewyn Davis likable, they make him relatable — so relatable that the viewer starts to understand not only why Davis behaves the way he does, but what he might do next, even when you’re actively hoping he makes “better” choices — choices usually involving Llewyn breaking off a clever insult when staying silent would’ve been more prudent. (on a roadtrip to chicago with an aging jazz musician (John Goodman) who is constantly needling Llewyn from the back seat, Llewyn finally snaps and asks if the man’s walking cane will fit all the way up his ass “or will a little stick out?”)
because, while this is a movie with moments of genuine anguish, both the movie and character are kind of hilarious. (unlike a lot of “comedy”-dramas, this one’s got actual jokes.)
when Llewyn’s aging agent Mel, is unavailable for a meeting because he’s at a funeral, Llewyn casually remarks to Mel’s secretary that Mel “goes to a lot of funerals.”
“he likes people,” the secretary says.
Llewyn: “fewer and fewer.”
there are, of course, underlying reasons for Llewyn’s prickliness (appropriately revealed with little fanfare and admirable restraint), but, ultimately, Inside Llewyn Davis is a picture of a guy who (and read this on any or all levels you want) just can’t help himself.
there’s a popular ice-breaker question that asks someone to list their five favorite fictional guests at a dinner party. if you’ve played the game enough, you’ve probably heard at least a couple Coen brother originals. The Dude from The Big Lebowski (1998) is likely to be a popular answer. Fargo‘s (1996) Marge Gunderson probably pops up on a few invite lists as well. Llewyn Davis, acerbic as he is, easily rises to those ranks. heck, even the Gorfeins welcome him back with open arms.
but if you do send him an invitation, as tempting as it might be, maybe don’t ask him to sing.
rating:
