Hang me, oh hang me, I’ll be
dead and gone;
Hang me, oh hang me, I’ll be
dead and gone.
I wouldn’t mind the hangin’,
It’s just the layin’ in the
grave so long.
Poor boy… I’ve been all around
this world.
Inside Llewyn Davis
opens with this melancholy ballad which sets the tone for the rest of the
film, about a soul wandering in a sea of loss and loneliness.
Llewyn Davis is a struggling folk singer in pre-Dylan Greenwich
Village who doesn’t have enough money for a winter coat, much less an apartment
to live in. Played with subtlety and
sympathy by Oscar Isaac, he is frequently a jerk and a boor, even to those who
help him. But he can also care for a
displaced cat, sing a sea shanty for his neglected father, and
manage to keep enough friends from whom to bum food and cigarettes, borrow money,
and secure a couch to sleep on. What is
inside Llewyn Davis is a broken soul, an unwell spirit haunted by the suicide
of his former singing partner. His spirit is infused with and sometimes overcome by desperation to the point that we
are given to wonder if he will take the advice of a would-be promoter and
reunite with his (dead) partner. As with
all artists, the condition of his soul overflows into his work, in this case a
repertoire of depressive folk songs and ballads.
As with writer/directors Joel and Ethan Coen’s earlier O Brother, Where Art Thou? the music –
under the supervision of T Bone Burnett – is as much a part of the story as
any character. It is beautifully sung by
Isaac himself – occasionally backed by Marcus Mumford (of Mumford and Sons) –
and a supporting cast headed by Carey Mulligan and Justin Timberlake. Like O
Brother, Where Art Thou? the soundtrack stands alone as a quality album.
The songs also reveal the tension in the music scene
between the brooding minor key themes of the Village folk music scene and the breezy
novelty songs that characterized the commercial folk market (illustrated in the
film by the bouncy “Please Mr. Kennedy”).
But this also reflects the film’s subtext of social criticism. Inside
Llewyn Davis takes place a month after the inauguration of John Kennedy and
his “New Frontier,” and offers a counterpoint to the myth of innocence and
optimism it produced. The late 50s and
early 60s are often remembered nostalgically, but in
reality it was a time of economic stagnation and high unemployment, an era when
“retirement” meant “poverty”, and when women in trouble had to hunt for
back-room abortionists.
But despite their attention to period detail and social
context, the Coens are not making political statements as much as they are making
statements about the human condition.
Indeed, a repeated line in the film tells us that a folk song "was never new and never gets old." Inside Llewyn Davis is a folk song put to film.
The central symbol of the film is the ginger
cat which accompanies Llewyn on his journeys and serves as a projection of his
inner self – what one critic called his “horcrux.” The cat is accidentally set loose in the
world and Llewyn is determined to bring him home. The cat’s journey is also Llewyn’s, and the
musical themes of voyage and homecoming are reiterated in Llewyn’s own
backstory as a merchant marine and the son of a merchant marine (whose nursing
home is named “Landfall”).
The themes of birth and death are also prevalent, and are
given their most poignant voice in the classic song, “The Death of Queen Jane,”
which recounts the death in childbirth of Jane Seymour, wife of
Henry VIII, who in the song pleads for a cesarean section to deliver her
child, even though it would take her life.
Llewyn must confront demons of life and death at both ends of the
life-journey, from abortion to suicide. In their early film Raising Arizona the Coens portrayed
family as an idealized community of wholeness and healing.
Llewyn Davis is conflicted over family:
he criticizes his friend Jean’s desire for a suburban life as a
sell-out; he neglects his dying father; and he arranges abortions for the women
he has impregnated. Like Odysseus –
another Coen meme – Llewyn Davis has been away from home too long, and is lost at sea trying to find his way back.
As with many Coen brothers films, the journey is filled
with strange characters, not the least of whom is John Goodman’s relatively brief
turn as a jaded heroin-addicted jazz musician, which provides some comic
relief, believe it or not, even if it does seem thrown into the narrative as a
contrivance. Nevertheless the strangeness of the journey
makes homecoming all the sweeter.
Inside Llewyn Davis
is a well-crafted film. It has
received Oscar nominations for cinematography and sound mixing, both of which
are deserved. It is another very good
film in a season of great films, which is probably why it was left on the
honorable mention list of Best Picture nominees. Nevertheless it is a film very much worth
viewing, if for no other reason than the music and the cat. 3.5 stars/4.0
The film is stronger on a second viewing. The theme of Llewyn's grieving over his partner's suicide is prominent enough to make this a candidate for my upcoming course on Grief, Loss, and Hope: A Pastoral Theology in Film. One interesting note: "The Gate of Horn" was an iconic folk club in Chicago in the early '60s -- but in true Coen Brothers fashion, its name is derived from a section of Homer' Odyssey.
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