I'd fly up the river to the one I love
Oh fare thee well, my honey, fare thee well"
He is good, but not great. That is the tragedy of Llewyn Davis's life. It is this interesting twist on the classic journeying protagonist that defines the Coen Brothers' "Inside Llewyn Davis." The audience struggles to root for Llewyn's success as a folk singer in 1960's New York. Partly this is due to the fact that Llewyn is essentially an anti-hero, a self-aggrandizing musical purist, very much at fault for the trouble in which he finds himself. He calls Jean "careerist" and "sad" for being inauthentic in order to achieve notoriety. Llewyn, rather, sings simply for the music itself. But something within us knows that Llewyn is not incredible. He is not a genius. We love an underdog, but only one that we know is talented but just can't catch a break. And so part of us just can't find it in ourselves to root for him.
"I don't see a lot of money here."When Bud Grossman's words echo in the empty auditorium, we see what we suspected all along, but we realize that we still do not understand why this is the way it has to be. We feel the culmination of Lleywn's several bad days, weeks, and probably years. Bud Grossman suggests that he find a partner and Llewyn tells him that he had one. Grossman's advice is to get back together with him. But Llewyn's partner is dead. This, like his inability to be a "front man," is just another thing that haunts Llewyn, deepening the divide between who he is and who he wishes to become. We know, and perhaps he does too, that he will never reach that goal. We know irrevocably that he will never win.
The parts of the movie that indulge in full length songs sung by the very talented Oscar Isaac, who plays Llewyn, are enrapturing. "Fare Thee Well" is perhaps the most hauntingly beautiful, and is the song that Llewyn used to sing with his now dead partner. The Coen Brothers do a lovely job of lingering on the melancholy desire that drips from these songs, holding chillingly on Isaac's face, a face that portrays something both distant and emotionally raw. It, the songs, Isaac--are the metaphorical equivalent of longing for a past that no longer exists even as you live it, of longing for something that you know you will die never having obtained.
Nothing is obvious. Even the sadness that envelops the entire film is subtle and layered, cut with biting humor spewed both by Llewyn and at him. It is this sarcasm, shown both visually and in dialogue, that makes the melancholy of this movie trickle into your system as though from an IV, leaving you, without warning, feeling as defeated as Llewyn at the end of the film. It is Llewyn's sarcasm that helps to make his emotions so distant, and we are allowed only a glimpse of that emotion when he sings. His face is passive and unrevealing as he squeezes through narrow hallways and hitchhikes on highways, as Jean calls him an asshole, tells him she wants to have his child aborted even though there is a chance it is her husband's child, and tells him that everything he touches is shit, "like King Midas's idiot brother." He has paid for the abortion of more than one sexual escapade, and pays for Jean's too. All without seemingly any emotion. He finds out that a girl in Akron decided not to go through with the abortion, and he's a father. But when he sees the sign for Akron on the highway, he drives past it. Because Lleywn does not wallow in the despair of his defeat, we do not either, and that is why the sadness is so subtle. And it is why Llewyn is difficult to sympathize with.
This sarcastic stalemate is contrasted by the ultra sincerity of those around Llewyn, like wholesome singer Troy Nelson, about whom Llewyn asks, "does he have higher function?" and a quartet of white cable-knit sweater clad crooners at the bar where Llewyn often performs (Llewyn says, "I like the sweaters.") The irony of Llyewn's life is that these people will become successful. Bud Grossman liked Troy Nelson and sees a future in him. And so the audience is confronted with the fickle nature of the entertainment industry, and of life. How do we respond when we are simply not good enough? When we cannot become the ideas we have clung to? It is of the greatest tragedies, learning that your weaknesses cannot be fixed. It is a refreshing subject that the Coen Brothers chose to explore, one that needs a place in Hollywood cinema, where we all have redeeming qualities and we all eventually win. This movie confronts the truth that all too often, we just don't win. And no amount of spirited effort will change our defeat.
"Just as sure as the birds flying up above,
Life ain't worth living without the one you love"
It is a complicated question to answer when we try to figure out what is next for Llewyn Davis. He has no love interest to guide the remainder of the plot. The closest he comes to "the one he loves" is Ulysses, the cat of his deceased partner's parents. During a conversation with his sister Llewyn says that his father just "exists" and she says, "is that what we do outside of the entertainment industry, just exist?" There is nothing on the horizon, even the Merchant Marines, when his sister gives away the box that contained his license. But I suppose again the Coens mirror life when they leave us with very little information alluding to Llewyn's future. Life is not nearly so neat.
It is a movie that is wholly unsatisfying and could be interpreted a thousand different ways. I have not in a very long time seen anything as beautiful and poignant.
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