Movie Review: Inside Llewyn Davis

The Coen Brothers are an acquired taste.  Most of their films require interpretation.  A little work.  Even some thought.  No two audiences see their films quite the same way.

That’s both a blessing and a curse.  

When at their best, a Coen Brothers’ movie is worth repeated viewings.  Think of blessings like Fargo and The Big Lebowski.  As with all classics, we catch something new and fresh with each viewing.  Yet their unmistakably unique sense of style and dark undertones are a curse as well since a sizable number of viewers just won’t get it.  These movies aren’t predictable feel-good fairy tales.  They are, in essence, the anti-fairy tale.  Think of No Country for Old Men or Raising Arizona.

Their latest film Inside Llewyn Davis offers a brief snapshot of the pitiful life of a struggling musician who’s aimlessly lost wandering and occasionally performing in Greenwich Village during the bitterly cold winter of 1961.  He’s utterly insignificant, instantly forgettable, a tiny part of a much more fruitful folk music scene on the verge of a broader revival.  However, he refuses to go along with the crowd.

The title character is played perfectly by Oscar Isaac, who somehow manages to be both sympathetic and loathsome at the same time.  Llewyn Davis is determined to make it as a full-time musician, no matter what.  But at what cost?  In reality, the price of blind ambition is paid by those around him.  With few exceptions, Davis abdicates taking personal responsibility for anything.  Days and nights have turned into weeks and months, spent crashing from one sofa to the next, hustling for paid singing gigs, while staying true to his life’s plan — whatever in the hell that means.

Inside Llewyn Davis works well in parts but fails badly in others.  It’s an artsy man’s The Fountainhead, set to the soundtrack of folk music.  Davis refuses to compromise, or “sell-out” as we might say.  He’s determined to stay true to his music as a solo act.  He won’t even join a singing group when given a paid opportunity.  In one sense that’s admirable.  But it’s also stupid.  The changing musical tastes of the times and Davis’ own growing frustration creates a rudderless central character trapped within a maze of failure.

All Coen Brothers’ productions are peppered with quirky cameos, and this film is no exception.  Although the cast is stoked with the diverse talents of F. Murray Abraham, John Goodman, Carey Mulligan, Justin Timberlake, and others none of these secondary characters is particularly memorable, nor adds much to the story.  They’re just sort of out there diverting our attention away momentarily, sputtering profanities and providing a brief flurry of hope that the film might pick up and somehow conclude with a point.  It doesn’t.

And that’s a serious problem.  In yet another maddening journey that leads nowhere for the audience, we’re forced to plod along for two hours watching this increasingly unsympathetic loser, then we’re finally left with nothing at the end.  Although the essential question of life gets posed along the way — namely living with a real sense of purpose versus merely existing from one day to the next — nothing gets resolved or comes together.  Just when we think something is about to finally be revealed, it lights up and the credits roll.

Inside Llewyn Davis does provide a few laughs and the cinematic excellence we’ve come to expect from a Coen Brothers’ production.  Some of the music is catchy as well, but then also gets repetitive.  During my viewing, late in the movie when the title character picks up his guitar and starts strumming, I heard someone whisper, “What?  Another Song?”  My sentiments exactly.  There seems little point in playing full-length versions of multiple songs unless what we’re watching is a musical.  The more limited scope of music worked wonders in “O’ Brother, Where Art Thou?”  But it’s just too much, and too long here.  Indeed, catchy guitar riffs and nice harmonies can’t substitute for lack of a story.

I’m willing to cut the film slack based on the pedigree of both the writer-directors and cast.  But that’s not nearly enough to give it a thumbs up.  If anything, a film with the Coen Brothers’ name should be considerably better than what else is out there.  It’s not.  This pointless film falls flat and is instantly forgettable by the time you’re in the parking lot.

In short, this is one of the Coen Brothers’ most disappointing films.  I cannot recommend it.

GRADE:  C-

RATING:  FOUR STARS OUT OF TEN

Even the movie poster for Inside Llewyn Davis appears to be a rip-off of Bob Dylan’s famous album cover, “The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan“  (See below)

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