Folk music is that most honest of all music genres. It’s often just a man, his words and his guitar, and through simple song structure and intimacy of the performance, it hits searing individual truths. And yet when folk music is done poorly, it can be the most hammy and phony of all, a parody of itself and hardly a solid piece of music.
The only American directors capable of handling that dichotomy are the Coen Brothers. The two are masters of characterization and tone, bordering on satire and sincerity with each of their characters. “Inside Llewyn Davis” is their folk ballad, and it’s a searing portrait of an unlikeable and sullen artist, one that feels warm and honest without ever trying to fake folksy charm.
“Inside Llewyn Davis” could not be possible without the lead performance of its title character by Oscar Isaac. In this film full of cartoonish supporting players coloring a strange, tough-to-crack world, Isaac plays Llewyn with every ounce of attitude and truth. Llewyn is completely unlikeable, stuck-up, lazy, pretentious, snarky and never cool, and Isaac turns him into a tragic figure befitting a travelling folk song.
Llewyn is a struggling solo musician living in Greenwich Village right at the dawn of the folk music scene in the early ‘60s. Isaac’s fictional character is based loosely off influential artist Dave van Ronk, who served as a mentor for Bob Dylan. Llewyn lives couch to couch with friends, band mates and acquaintances, and the extent of his responsibility is caring for a cat that got out of his friend’s apartment.
We meet him performing a song about being hung, the fear not of dying but of the loneliness and uncertainty after. The Coens stage his performance in soft, silvery, picturesque lighting, the intimate framing making him into something of a rock star. In a few shots, the room seems more bleak, modest and inconsequential, and it paints an accurate portrait for how Llewyn sees himself versus his existence.
Llewyn is now a struggling solo artist after the suicide of his singing partner. Now he’s without someone to harmonize with, and his life as a whole is out of sync. After sleeping with an old friend named Jean (Carey Mulligan), he’s working to get her an abortion. But he only gets the money from being a session musician in her husband Jim’s (Justin Timberlake) band. He’s penned a goofy song about the President somehow forcing people into outer space, a catchy not-quite joke song original by T. Bone Burnett and Timberlake called “Please Mr. Kennedy,” and although it stands to be a hit, Llewyn takes the quick payday and waves his royalties in favor of being a real artist.
At all times he makes choices and speeches to validate his artistic integrity, but unlike another film that might sympathize with his sentiments, Llewyn has reached the end of his rope, and if he’s the artist he claims he needs to finally put up or shut up.
It’s a big test the Coens demand of their character, and they do so through a series of mishaps and tribulations that are grounded and adventurous for a folk story. Like a campfire yarn, it feels slightly surreal and embellished as well. Nothing goes Llewyn’s way in his week on the road, and he’s soon battling titans like a ruthlessly sullen John Goodman (being hilarious and iconic as always) and the elements themselves when torrential snow blankets his drive back to New York.
“Inside Llewyn Davis’s” most direct companion in the Coens’ oeuvre is surely “O Brother Where Art Thou,” it too a folk tale that invoked a Greek tragedy through its story, music and characters. But it reminds me more of the recent Coens film, “A Serious Man.” That film mirrored the Bible’s Book of Job, ruining a decent man until he was completely broken down.
Llewyn is a more than decent musician, but he’s an awful person, gifted and entitled enough about his artistic demons that he eschews any sentiment or goodwill for others. “Inside Llewyn Davis” eviscerates the artist mentality by saying that no one is entitled to success through his or her work alone. The music business breaks Llewyn down until by the closing shots he is literally being beaten and upstaged.
Much of Llewyn’s journey seems satirical and farfetched, but like with their characters, the Coens masterfully orchestrate these tones and get a film that’s more real as a result. “Inside Llewyn Davis” is just a ballad. It’s not the powerhouse, philosophical tale that “No Country for Old Men” or “Fargo” are, but it represents an honest pop song that feels as relatable as anything they’ve done.
4 stars