As far as winter movies go, this is for sure one of my favorites. It's a sort of hidden gem from the Coen brothers, one I stumbled into sort of by accident, four years ago almost to the day. Time flies, I guess... Now in these here winter times I figured it was high time to rewatch it as part of a biennial ritual, but this time I might as well share my thoughts about it. And those are that this movie, aside from being very smartly written with a similar brand of the weird humor you find in The Big Lebowski, it also has an underlying message I've been recently taking personally. You'll see what I mean when we get there. For now I can say that I've more or less begun to realize that often times, pessimistic movies actually have a distinct silver lining to them, if only you know where to look. And this film, as you may have guessed from the title of this article, is no exception. But full disclosure, the general idea of this essay was one I actually learned from someone on IMDB, back when the site had message boards. So to whomever, thanks for the inspiration.
The story is set in the winter of 1961 and it follows a young musician named Llewyn Davis as he navigates through the folk music scene in New York, trying anything he can to achieve success with his music. He has a lot of talent and even manages to make enough money to keep himself afloat by playing at a café, but the world appears to be otherwise uninterested. Yet, Llewyn keeps on trying, he's willing to humble himself and to almost embrace poverty because he has the confidence that his music will one day bring him greatness, and every time he tells someone he will make it up to them, you really believe him. Still, the path ahead of him is uncertain, and the winter, unforgiving. And throughout all that difficulty and sheer silence from the world, it could well be that Llewyn himself is his own greatest enemy.
The movie opens with Llewyn singing a folk song called Hang Me, Oh Hang Me on the stage of a place called The Gaslight Café. It's a neat and slightly rustic place, albeit dark and almost anonymous, in fact, it's a basket house, that is to say, it's a place where aspiring musicians perform for free, but all the while a basket is passed around for customers to place tips while they enjoy the music. So Llewyn plays, bearing his heart out to a kind but subdued crowed, as the smoke of their cigarettes fills the air. And on that note, the movie's sense of style is immediately noticeable. I suppose the gray color pallet wasn't appreciated by everyone, but I for one think that the cinematography really captures a sense of winter beauty, and the café itself, though presented as not that lofty, it actually seems like a very comfortable and cozy place to be at, all the while casually waiting for whatever talent might appear.
After his performance, Llewyn quips with the line – You probably heard that one before. If it was never new and it never gets old, then it's a folk song... It's a great line but, the thing about great lines is, at least the spoken ones, they are often repeated. Indeed, it seems like something Llewyn says after every one of his performances... He then leaves the stage and approaches Pappi Corsicato, the Gaslight's manager, who casually tells Llewyn about last night's drunken mishaps, to which Llewyn promptly apologizes. So the movie has thrown us into one of Llewyn's random days and it gives us specific details about the previous one, already hinting at a kind of circularity, a sort of repetition that plagues the life of Llewyn Davis. And that random day ends badly because Pappi informs Llewyn of some friend who is waiting out back to see him, but when Llewyn approaches the man in the alley, he instead finds a menacing man in a hat, a man who's seemingly upset at Llewyn for ruining a show. That is apparently what Pappi meant when he said Llewyn was a mess the night before... The man in the hat then attacks Llewyn and leaves him bloodied in the alleyway.
As the mysterious stranger walks away, the film transitions to an orange cat in a nice hallway. The cat then enters a room and jumps on Llewyn's belly, awakening him. Llewyn finds himself in a nice apartment which sadly isn't his home, it belongs to the Gorfeins, a couple friend of his. Llewyn makes himself some breakfast and goes through the Gorfeins' vinyl collection, picking out a very specific one titled If We Had Wings, credited to a man named Mike Timlin and Llewyn himself... Llewyn then leaves the apartment but the cat happens to creep through the door, which is then slammed shut. Having no permanent residence of his own, Llewyn now has to go about his crazy life dragging around his guitar and this cat which he drops off at an acquaintance's house and then goes to see Mel Novikoff, his agent. The meeting isn't at all productive though because Llewyn's album isn't doing too hot, so Mel ends up giving our hero a mere forty bucks, which come as charity more than anything else.
When Llewyn returns to where he left the cat, we discover the apartment belongs to Jim and Jean, musician friends of Llewyn, though Jean appears to be Llewyn's ex-girlfriend, or at least someone with whom he had a momentary lapse of reason which resulted in an unwanted pregnancy. This complete bombshell is flung at Llewyn while Troy Nelson, a soldier and aspiring musician, naively listens in and asks for the name of the cat. That proves to be a recurring theme, as well as symbolically important... The group then visit the Gaslight in what seems like a lazy afternoon in the lives of Greenwich Village musicians. Troy performs a beautiful song called The Last Thing on My Mind, which actually leaves Llewyn unimpressed, and then Jim and Jean join him on stage for a second song called 500 Miles. So what could be a happy and easygoing reunion has been ruined for Llewyn, who now has to find money for Jean to undergo an abortion... And to make matters worse, the next morning the cat escapes through the fire escape window, leaving Llewyn with a weight on his consciousness.
Llewyn then visits his sister Joy, who lives in the suburbs and has a very different outlook on life than her brother. He goes to her in hopes to get some money because their father's house has been sold, but he's saddened, though perhaps not surprised, to discover there's no money coming to him. And in this scene we actually get another important trait of Llewyn's, one perhaps a little bit unbecoming, and that is his disdain for so-called normal people, that is to say, people who are living normal lives and working normal jobs in stark contrast with his crazy lifestyle. So while he's having trouble with finances, he still has the opportunity to fall back on a regular job as a merchant marine, but that appears to be something that would make him very unhappy... Then, and weirdly coincidentally, his sister brings him a box containing old records of Llewyn's, as well as some documents. However, lest he grows sentimental, he carelessly asks her to throw it all away.
Luckily, Llewyn then catches a break – his friend Jim managed to find him a part to play in a studio song he's recording. Llewyn hurries along and shows up very unprepared but he quickly adapts to it, learns the song and performs it well, alongside Jim and a musician named Al Cody. The song though is a total mess... It's the only bad song in the entire film, but that's on purpose which means it's funny which means it's great. The song consists of a political attack on then president John F. Kennedy, mocking his futile and unnatural endeavors regarding space exploration, criticizing it all as a wasteful and dangerous fever dream. Once again, Llewyn dislikes the music and almost insults his mild-mannered friend Jim, who is revealed to be the original songwriter. Anyway, in order to get paid on the spot, Llewyn, perhaps because of his distaste for the song, agrees to be paid a clean two hundred dollars, rather than to have his name on the session sheet so that he can receive royalties.
Afterwards, he meets up with Jean at a coffee shop called Reggio to discuss the procedure, something with which Llewyn already has experience. And during that little meeting, he once again shows his disdain for normal people, considering Jim and Jean to have become sellouts for slowly abandoning their musical endeavors in favor of a stable career. Indeed, Llewyn uses the word “careerist” as a derogatory remark, as alluded to previously when he met with his sister. Then, mid-sentence, Llewyn sees the orange cat by the sidewalk, he hurries to it and recovers it, becoming then very relieved.
That relief will sadly proof brief though, because Llewyn visits the doctor to discuss the procedure and there he gets hit with yet another bombshell – the doctor allows the procedure to go through without payment because the previous procedure, that was to be done to Llewyn's girlfriend Diane, ended up not going through. Llewyn thus receives the news that he's actually a dad, and his two year old child is somewhere in Akron.
So with nowhere else to go, and having to return the cat, we are finally introduced to the Gorfeins. Mitch is a mild-mannered professor of sociology, a man with a kind and unassuming look, Lillian is a hippie-looking lady, and just as nice as Mitch, glasses and all. I make mention of that for a reason, so keep that in your back pocket. Mitch insists that Llewyn stays for dinner, which Llewyn reluctantly agrees to, although he can never quite pass up a good meal or a place for the night. However, the evening doesn't go well at all... First, Llewyn can't help himself and pokes fun at one of the guests, a teacher of classical music, a genre or profession which Llewyn appears to dislike. Then he feels out of place when discussing with an asian-american couple, and lastly, when asked to perform his hit Fare Thee Well, he becomes profoundly irritated with Lillian as she begins to provide backup vocals for what used to be Mike's part. So Llewyn loses his mind and chastises Lillian, making her cry and thus burning yet another bridge. But as if that wasn't enough, Lillian returns to the dinner party in utter shock after discovering that the cat Llewyn brought wasn't her own because it lacked a scrotum.
Then, on Al Cody's recommendation, Llewyn travels to Chicago, using his two hundred and forty dollars to help pay for gas. On the road he has two oddball traveling companions. One is Roland Turner, a crippled jazz musician with a slight distrust of Llewyn's origins, and a big distrust of Llewyn's musical preferences. The other is Johnny Five, Roland's very laconic driver and shifty bodyguard, with a significant smoking habit and a preference for odd poetry... They travel towards a constantly rainy landscape, stopping along the way in anonymous gas stations, and when they stop at a truly kubrickean coffee shop, like something out of A Clockwork Orange, Llewyn discovers Roland has a drug problem. So in some ways, Roland could be said to almost be an omen of what Llewyn could become should he ever remain cynical and arrogant, delving forever deeper into the dark side of the music business... And regardless of any darkness or reason, we get the revelation of what happened to Mike – he committed suicide...
Roland doesn't hear the news with any tact or kindness, to which Llewyn insults him. And then Roland goes on a crazy rant that more or less captures the essence of the film when he says,
I studied Santeria, and certain other things that squares like you would call “the black arts” due to lack of understanding, from Chano Pozo in New Orleans. You say you'll mess me up? I don't have to make those childish threats. I do my thing and one day you wake up wondering, why do I have this pain in my side? Or maybe it won't even be that specific. Maybe it's, why is nothing going right for me?
That last bit really is hitting the nail on the end because for some odd reason, a reason that goes beyond pragmatic concerns, nothing in Llewyn's life is going well... Anyway, eventually, the gang stop by the side of the road to rest up for a bit, a policeman approaches the car and is met with unease by Johnny Five, who is promptly arrested. So without the keys in the ignition, Llewyn has to make his own way, hitch-hiking on the road to Chicago. But as he retrieves his guitar, which rests beside a sleeping Roland, Llewyn sees the orange cat staring at him, almost soulfully. Llewyn meets his gaze but decides to take only the guitar before he closes the door, leaving the stray cat to her own devices and her own luck.
When Llewyn finally arrives in Chicago he receives no kind of welcome. He's driven by an unseen driver, he steps over a snowy puddle, he takes an empty bus, he makes a phone call to a music agency named The Gate of Horn which is ignored, he's more or less kicked out of a diner, he's kicked out of the train station, and so on... In a word, his arrival in Chicago, the city that could bring him great success, is quite underwhelming. But when he does arrive at The Gate of Horn he's at least allowed to stay there, just playing the guitar while waiting for Bud Grossman, a respected music manager. But as Llewyn waits and plays, he makes an off-hand reference to drug use just as Grossman walks past, precisely the sort of thing we all dread to do in front of our bosses... Grossman either ignored it or didn't care though, because he allowed Llewyn to give him a little performance. The chosen song was The Death of Queen Jane, a song about the birth of prince Edward at the cost of queen Jane's life, a song beautifully sung by Llewyn as he seemingly makes his last stand.
The movie then almost dares us to read Grossman's face, it challenges us to try and decipher what he's thinking and feeling as he listens to Llewyn's performance. But then we get his blunt response – I don't see a lotta money here... Because it always comes down to that. Talent and calling often become subject to coin. Still, Grossman offers Llewyn work as a backup singer, a kind offer which Llewyn, saddened but decisive, refuses. Grossman lastly imparts some wisdom, he suggests Llewyn should get back with his partner, a slice of wisdom that Llewyn calls good advice... Of course we know that's impossible, that is unless joining Mike has some darker connotations that the movie appears to hint at, but expertly avoids.
Llewyn then has to catch a ride back to New York and stumbles into a bit of luck when a man happens to drive by, hoping to catch some sleep as Llewyn drives. The trip is then uneventful, but as Llewyn drives through that old lonesome road under the night sky, a cat dashes across. Llewyn stops abruptly, but thankfully there were no drivers around behind him, indeed, the road seems mysteriously darkened and deserted. And the man, despite the scare, remains fast asleep. Llewyn then gets out of the car and finds some blood on the bumper, and then, looking back, he sees the silhouette of the cat as she limps away into the forest...
Sad stuff but maybe there's some deeper meaning to it than just sadness... I think the cat represents Mike. In the beginning of the movie, there's a transition of the man who assaults Llewyn fading into the cat walking in the hallway, who then jumps on Llewyn, who in turn then finds his old album and reminiscences about Mike. The cat then slips out of the house, following Llewyn, perhaps symbolizing how those thoughts of Mike simply won't leave him. Later on, when Llewyn abandons the cat, he tries to move on with his life, hopefully finding success with Grossman, but that just doesn't happen. It's only after accidentally hitting the cat and saying goodbye, actually accepting her death, that Llewyn finds some inner peace and seemingly lets go of Mike, as well as of the weight of his guitar. But maybe his guitar isn't done with him yet...
Llewyn awakes in a child's room, his nephew Danny's. First thing he does is what society expects of any struggling artist – he gets out of bed and goes out to get a job. His best bet is to ship out to work as a merchant marine, especially because his father was a prestigious officer in his own time, so Llewyn ends up wanting to follow in his career path just because he might as well. Though he initially hated such a thing, now he has to humble himself before it. So he goes to the union hall intent on shipping out but he can't just yet, he needs to pay his dues, which takes up most of his remaining money. Then he decides to visit his father at the nursing home for one last performance. Llewyn sings Shoals of Herring, a song he recorded as a seven year old in a vinyl his sister had in that box, and a song I interpret as being about a son reminiscing about the days he was a humble young fisherman, learning the trade with his father and hoping for a day they'd find plentiful shoals of herring. Llewyn sings with as much emotion as ever, and the film even gives us intentional shots of the father looking out the window, perhaps finding some tender memories beneath the cloudy haze of his dementia. However, when the song finishes, the father just soils himself... Because once again, no one cares about Llewyn's music, and if that clear isn't a sign of distaste, then nothing is.
Llewyn then returns home, understandably angry, and gets into a bit of an argument with his sister who reveals that the old box containing the documents is long gone, precisely at Llewyn's request. Having burned yet another bridge, he returns to Jean one last time just for a place to drop his things off, things he claims to be too tired to carry around. Jean herself though, she's still carrying her own weight because the procedure was not yet done. Llewyn thinks so only because, in all the confusion, his trip to Chicago seems longer than it really was... And in a word, he's done. The world doesn't care about his talent or about any of his efforts. It's not a question of resting up for the night and trying again the next day, it's all just too damn much... Still, Jean shows him a rare bit of kindness, almost encouraging him to keep on trying by providing him a chance to play at the Gaslight again, for the four hundredth time.
Llewyn doesn't want to though, he's intent on quitting the music business. But when the returns to the union hall he discovers he can't embark because of his lost license which costs eighty dollars to replace. That means a stupid decision Llewyn previously made has seemingly come back to haunt him, a decision he made when trying to let go of the past now makes it so he doesn't have anything to fall back on. So he has to return to the Gaslight, at least to make enough money to replace the license, but when he's there he drinks a bit too much and gets belligerent after hearing Pappi's comments, especially regarding Jean. Llewyn reveals his old arrogant self when criticizing a quartet and then, as an old lady goes on stage, he openly berates her and get kicked out.
Now, that lady singer is quite interesting. I think you'll find she's oddly similar to Lilian, whom Llewyn also berated previously, although in a slightly different context. But I think when making a movie, similar people aren't cast out of the blue or by sheer accident. I think it was very intentional to have this woman having similar traits, glasses and all, to Lillian's. So Llewyn berates her and gets kicked out, having no one to turn to except the real Lillian. He does so and he's welcomed almost in the exact same manner as before – Mitch insists to welcome him, he mentions a special dish Lillian is preparing, and then he introduces Llewyn to some new guests. But this time Llewyn notices a cat already there, initially thinking it's a new cat, but the Gorfeins reveal it's the old one who, somehow, returned home. Only then do they reveal the cat's name to be, of all names, Ulysses, the latin name of the greek hero Odysseus, who returned home against all odds and expectations after twenty long years of trial and tribulation.
After dinner, Llewyn stays for the night, and the story has now come full circle. He leaves the house with his guitar, but this time he takes extra care to not allow the cat to slip past him. That symbolizes he has now closed the door on his old self, all the guilt and pride he held on to following Mike's death. He then walks along the sidewalk and notices a poster of The Incredible Journey, a movie about two dogs and a cat traveling great distances and struggling against great odds to make it back home... Then, back in the Gaslight, Llewyn sings the same song as he did in very the beginning of the movie, but now he sings a second one, the song he berated Lillian for, he sings Fare Thee Well. Afterwards, he leaves the stage and approaches Pappi, apologizing for last night yet again, and Pappi once again mentioning Llewyn's friend out back. The scene plays out almost the exact same with a distinct difference – this time Llewyn notices the other musician going on stage and tuning his guitar, a musician with a distinct curly hair and an harmonica holder... Llewyn has now shared a stage with none other than Bob Dylan.
Llewyn then proceeds to get beaten up, apparently by the very same man as before who is now revealed to be the husband of the lady Llewyn berated. So if that lady singer represented Lillian, this man represents Mitch's dark side... And one more difference in this scene is that, instead of fading into the next morning, Llewyn sits up against the wall of the Gaslight, watching his tormentor leave that godforsaken town for good, and thus Llewyn bids him au revoir, breakin the cycle, as all the while Bob Dylan faintly plays in the background... The end.
So why is this movie optimistic? I think in a nutshell it's because it presupposes that all will be well in the end. During the course of the film, Llewyn made a lot of mistakes – he kept burning bridges, he showed disdain for a normal life of merely existing, he turned down the chance to receive major royalties from that JFK song, he turned down a chance to work for Bud Grossman as a backup singer, he had the documents thrown out which prevented him from joining the navy... And yet, it almost seems like all of those obstacles were carefully placed along the way, almost by fate itself, so that Llewyn would be forced to go around in circles, so that he'd end up precisely at the Gaslight, as many times as he needed to in a Groundhog Day sort of way until he recognized the man he had to share the basket with. Because remember, the movie is carefully set in 1961, being that Bob Dylan's first album was released in 1962, and the second and third, The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan and The Times They Are a-Changin' respectively in the two subsequent years. In those roaring sixties, Dylan revolutionized folk music. Not only did he put it on the map but he also became a colossal star. And to be right there, at the birth of folk music, that's a gift Llewyn could never have gotten had he achieved success previously by forsaking his love for folk music or, worse, had he quit it all together.
And the JFK song, which appears to be a major blunder on Llewyn's part, it will actually become tasteless and fall into obscurity because JFK will be assassinated in 1963. Not to mention how his great accomplishment of landing on the moon will be achieved in 1969, an event so monumental it will make that anti-discovery song sound very silly, outdated and plain wrong. And because Llewyn's name isn't on it, he will have cleared a blemish from his career.
Then, and this one might be a bit more controversial, but the fact that Llewyn's ex-girlfriend Diane ended up not going through with the abortion could perhaps signify that Jean will also change her mind about it... But I digress, I suppose that is my way of tidying up an otherwise unpleasant aspect of an otherwise amazing film.
Regardless, I think the whole point of the movie is that at times it could be that luck doesn't come to us for a reason, maybe we need to suffer for a little while until the stars align and the time is made right for us. Had Llewyn achieved success previously by pursuing more lucrative genres of music he would have lost a major chance to be a great folk singer, which was always his one and true passion, a passion which will be fueled by the passion of a likewise talented individual whom Llewyn almost passed by and ignored... And I said this optimistic message was personal because, hey, it kinda is... At this present time, I've published two books that almost no one read, and though the few who have read it do say nice things about it, nobody else cares much to even flick through their pages. The world don't even know they exist... Still, I think I'm doing something right, at least I like to think I am, and yet no such luck comes to me. Even trying my luck in other areas appears to be denied unto me... So I guess, like Llewyn, I'll keep on trying something.
And all the mistakes I've made so far, often times I want to take them all back. But then I think – if this bad thing had never happened to me, or if I had never made this stupid mistake, I would never have ended up where I did and I would never have gotten this or that bit of inspiration, and thus I would never have written what I wrote. So I guess the moral of the story here is that, for good or for bad, our mistakes are ours to own and ours to keep. And if things aren't great so far, if things are in fact only gonna get worse, if a hard rain is indeed gonna fall, then maybe it's just a bit of rain.
So just hang in there.
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