The draw of Joel and Ethan Coen’s “Inside Llewyn Davis” is not the music nor the shifty characters that run amok, but the troubles that Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac, “SuckerPunch”) finds himself cornered into. However, “Inside Llewyn Davis” finds its heart in one man’s yearning for a more satisfying life.
Loosely based on the life of folk singer David Van Ronk and his memoir “The Mayor of MacDougal Street,” the Coens’ film “Inside Llewyn Davis” follows Llewyn after the death of his band mate and his endeavors in the 1960s Greenwich village music scene.
Llewyn finds himself out of work and on most occasions perennially broke. He continuously aches about his misfortune and finds himself crashing from couch to couch of various strange and odd folk, the kind of people most likely to be described in the songs Llewyn sings so often.
The Coen brothers’ film begins and ends in similar circumstances as it opens with a beautiful rendition of “Hang Me, Oh Hang Me,” leaving a nifty chronicle of space to spread the film’s story out. The recursive dream quality, aided by cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel’s (“Infamous”) washed out and saturated denim colored world, of “Inside Llewyn Davis” makes for an unimpeachably peculiar stage which Llewyn ambles aimlessly through the cold onto his next gig.
Llewyn eventually finds himself in Chicago as a last ditch effort to find a steady career in front of the Gate of Horn club owner Bud Grossman (F. Murray Abraham, “Homeland”). Here Llewyn performs an astoundingly heartbreaking rendition of “The Death of Queen Anne” and a credit of casting Murray Abraham sits stone-faced while Isaac freely bears Llewyn’s emotions in one of the film’s best scenes. The conclusion of Lleywn’s performance presents the crux of his fruitless endeavor as Grossman concludes Llewyn is not a front man. He’s a cut below the rest.
Through the course of the Coen brothers’ film, there are genuine moments of humor to be found. Llewyn finds himself recording a novelty Sputnik-era track with Justin Timberlake’s (“Runner, Runner”) conservatively prim and proper Jim and Adam Driver’s (“Girls”) would-be Cowboy bellowing “Outer Space” that’s entitled “Please, Mr. Kennedy.” The fizzling pugnacity of Carey Mulligan (“Never Let Me Go”) Jean who proclaims Llewyn to be “King Midas’ idiot brother.”
Also amid the comic milieu of characters is John Goodman’s (“Flight”) backseat driving Roland Turner and his rockabilly chauffeur Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund, “On The Road”).
When “Inside Llewyn Davis” shifts and convulses amidst the coldest winter, the Coen brothers handle Llewyn’s story as morbid fable. As the Möbius strip of the narrative returns to the Gaslight club where Llewyn Davis played so frequently a small glimpse of Bob Dylan, in his infantile prime, comes into frame. Here we have the story of an artist who traveled far and wide only to witness the ebbing of his fleeting career and how he watches as the new folk heroes to step into frame. Llewyn endures despite his stubborn attitude.
dkahen-kashi@theeagleonline.com
