I have tried on multiple occasions to write a blog that describes the most recent slew of films I've seen but for the most part it's been an unmitigated disaster, I will make that list soon, but it'll be terrible and uninspired. Anyways, speaking of failures, I went to see a film which provoked a strong emotional reaction, so I was inspired to write this blog.
The fact that Inside Llewyn Davis perfectly depicts the malaise of creativity and success is most likely a coincidence, but it brought me here so for that I am glad. For every success story in the world, there are thousands of people who simply didn't make it. The pain of this reality is not one often explored in cinema, there are always elements of how success causes more trouble than good, how the inevitable decline and pains of this are well documented within cinema but it's not oft we see the struggles of someone who is adequately talented but doomed to insignificance due to his own misfortune and failings. It seems to be a typical Coen Brothers film in which nihilism is rampant and hope and retribution are fleeting, if impossible. It sounds typical but there's a softer edge to this film, the comedy is more restrained (aside from a toe-tappingly catchy folk song with awkward yelping inclusions) and it's clear there's a fatigue and melancholy that runs throughout the film which is achingly affecting. It's probably worth pointing out now, I adored this film.
It may seem youthful and naive to say this but I am of the erroneous belief that there is a distinct beauty that can be found in sorrow. This film is so sad! There are moments of levity and beauty (for all it's grey wintery palette the film is beautifully shot thanks to the cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel - of Amelie fame) but for the most part this is a typically Coen film with a protagonist who is increasingly out of his depth and entrapped in helpless crappy situations. Also it's worth pointing out that although there a bunch of old folk songs used in this film, 'never new and never get old', the soundtrack is truly worth noting as wonderful (big Bob Dylan fan I am though...) and I'll definitely be listening to it lots more. It creates a melancholy bitter sweet sensation which is beautiful in my mind.
There are so many aspects of this film which enamoured me to it, from the misadventures of Llewyn trying to retain and return his friends cat which has a habit of fleeing for freedom, the sight of Carey Mulligan in a dark wig bellowing expletives, Justin Timberlake being affable and singing a jaunty folk song (I can't express how good that scene was...), the awkward reality of Llewyn's lack of fixed abode as he hops from couch to couch in the cold winter without the benefit of a suitable coat, John Goodman chewing the scenery in the back seat of a car whilst napping most of his screen time, Garrett Hedlund looking might fine and saying practically nothing chomping on cigarettes and wearing a leather jacket with a quiff and grim expression, or the understated yet incredibly affecting performance of Oscar Isaac.
I read some complaints about the fact that the film wasn't a particularly realistic or interesting interpretation of the folk-singer scene in the Greenwich Village in the early 60s and that for the most part Llewyn Davis is essentially a less charismatic feckless version of Dave Van Ronk. To these complaints I simply say that this was not what the story was about it. It felt more like the struggles of a man who was suffering deeply trying to maintain his artistic integrity and be more than anything and struggling with the pains of life in a very personal manner. If so I would argue that I doubt every woman in that era was capable of applying their eyeliner in perfect flicks above their eyes and didn't all have the same make-up artist but that would what took me personally out of the film if anything - pure envy on my part because I can not apply eyeliner like that and it became somewhat distracting...
My point being, the film's intention is to place you in a different time and place, not an exact representation of that world, it's simply just showing us a distinct world which feels like reality but is distinctly separate. It may feel like the Coens are simply playing one big cosmic joke on Llewyn Davis giving him the hardest possible time they can concoct but in that regard I felt the film made an honest attempt to depict a man in an endless (almost authentic) spiral of misfortune and depression. Llewyn Davis, although somewhat hard to understand, is a painfully real person, at least in my mind. My favourite kind of films are ones that gradually unfurl around you providing you with all the information you need to gain insight into the character's lives without explicitly having them tell you how they feel, or why are they doing something. Love means never having to explain yourself, and I love a good movie that doesn't feel the need to explain itself, it's simply there to be observed and admired. Inside Llewyn Davis doesn't demand you sympathise or even understand it's protagonist, it just gives you a window into his world.
There are several moments that made me really feel for the guy, but then throughout the film it's made equally impossible to sympathise or understand why he makes certain decisions. He consistently makes short-sighted impulsive decisions which are infuriating but also saddening. The main decision being he didn't accept royalties for recording the record 'Please Mr Kennedy' because he was in desperate need of the $200 cash that day to continue his survival, but it's made abundantly clear (because the song is so catchy and pretty much a guaranteed hit) if he'd waited a couple of days he could have lived happily off the much larger income. The fact he doesn't have a winter coat is another one! That he told his sister to chuck out all of his old stuff without specifying that which he might need later. Signing back up for the marines without knowing for sure if he had the paperwork. Sleeping with his friends girl is another. When asked to sing a song from Inside Llewyn Davis he chooses an old folk song about Henry VIII and Queen Jane, he sings it beautifully but why didn't he sing a song that was more personal? Why didn't he show his own song? Why didn't he give something of himself, something deeper, something unique to him? It felt like he was squandering the opportunity, especially when the man tells him the army guy was more personable.
Then there is the end sequence, Jean tells him a previous scene she got the spot for him and there'll be some people from the Times there, it could be his big break. He (from as far as I can tell) sings his damn heart out and it's amazing, he then leaves the stage and a young Bob Dylan takes his place and sings a song with distinctly similar lyrics. Well, it was just never meant to be for him, was it? I think my heart broke at that moment because of course, as Llewyn ends the film beaten and crumpled in a heap, it's simply never going to happen for him; that's just how life is sometimes... It's painful and it's sad but from my angle it's unmistakeably beautiful.
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