Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

Ever since viewing it for the first time as a college junior on the floor of my apartment at 2 in the morning back in 2014, Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) has had an inexplicable hold on me. At its surface, this isn’t the kind of film to really sit down and watch on a lazy day. There is an overwhelming sense of melancholy permeating from every aspect of the films design. From the soggy color palette and accommodatingly frigid set design, to the self absorbed characters that somehow make the protagonist look like a girl scout, this truly is a film that, under the wrong hands, could’ve been a miserable wreck. But what the Coens did with Inside Llewyn Davis is manage to use this miserable tone to their advantage, to create one of the most compelling films ever made about the eternal struggle of the artist.

Starring: Oscar Isaac, Carey Mulligan, Justin Timberlake, John Goodman & Adam Driver

Now a film this concerned with the battle between “artistry” and “commercially viable mediocrity” can become eyerollingly pandering real quick. But the Coen’s signature blend of wit and nihilism paint this struggle, from the get-go, as a non-issue. The film’s “slice of life” structure puts you right in the middle of Llewyn’s life, as he coasts from couch to couch playing gigs for pennies. We don’t witness a grand arc that propels the songwriter from humble beginnings to performer’s poverty, we are immediately thrown into this life, and see that Llewyn and those around him are accustomed to this struggle. This immediately turns the question from “what’s he going to do” to “how does he do this.” And this structure can be a bit of a turn off for the kind of people that prefer a more plot-driven story, but for the message that the Coens are going for, this structure works.

Llewyn Davis, on paper, shouldn’t work as a protagonist. He is rude, condescending, and kind of self-centered. The film knows this and is constantly kicking him down for our amusement. One of the funniest scenes in the movie for me is when Troy Nelson, fresh off a performance, begins to introduce the next act with loving words. Llewyn, believing this act to be him, tries to tell Nelson that he didn’t bring his guitar and isn’t up for performing. Nelson then brings on the real guests, Jim and Jean, much to Davis’ surprise. The camera holds on Davis as he cycles through the emotions; surprise, then jealousy, and then a twinge of resent. Deflating his ego not only rounds out his character but also balances him so we feel as if we can stay on his side.

But the real heart of Llewyn as a character is what he represents. We all have a friend like Llewyn. That friend who you go to see a movie with, complains the entire time about the self-gratifying Hollywood machine, and then later pitches you his idea for an arthouse film that sounds eerily similar to the plot of Memento. The difference here is, Llewyn is talented. It is clear from the beginning scene that Llewyn has a gift for songwriting and performing, a gift that only we the audience can see. Llewyn’s entire story is an unfortunate pairing of “right place, wrong time,” as the honesty and poetry of his songwriting is lost on the patrons of the Gaslight who are just there to see a soulful rendition of “Jimmy Crack Corn,” as Roland Turner so lovingly puts it. The film doesn’t entirely ignore his talents, however. Llewyn is offered a paid gig on a novelty song about space, and an opportunity from Bud Grossman to gig in a musical trio he is creating. But Llewyn’s insistence on making art that is his alone squanders any of these opportunities but also makes the character a kind of martyr for artistry. Llewyn, as rough around the edges as he is, represents that artist in all of us. The artist who won’t sacrifice their identity, in order to maintain the purity of expression. This clash between what we personally define as art, and what the world defines as art, is what makes Inside Llewyn Davis so compelling.

Inside Llewyn Davis, like most Coen Brothers films, has only gotten better with age. Ironically enough, their obsession with period pieces has made their work timeless, and Inside Llewyn Davis is no exception. Of course, despite the melancholy presentation and its depressingly realistic subject matter, the Coen’s brand of character humor and whip-smart dialogue keeps the film from becoming overwhelmingly bleak. The effortless transitions from darkly comedic to beautifully tragic makes Inside Llewyn Davis a masterpiece of modern film, and one of the Coen’s best, if not their best. I look forward to the next time I sit down and view this movie, and in the next 800 words I will inevitably write about it.