Inside Llewyn Davis

Directors: Joel and Ethan Coen
Starring: Oscar Isaac, Carey Mulligan, John Goodman, Garrett Hedlund, Justin Timberlake, F. Murray Abraham, Stark Sands, Adam Driver, Max Casella, Ethan Phillips
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: R

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

The biggest surprise about Inside Llewyn Davis is just how narrow its focus is. The title should have probably been our first clue. This is a character study to the core. And it's a difficult, challenging one we should have known was coming since it's from the Coen brothers. And that will still don't see it coming is the greatest thing about it. What's surprising is just how unconventional it is, even by their standards. Anyone expecting an overview of the early 60's Greenwich Village folk scene and spoon fed warm, fuzzy feelings of nostalgia associated that period should probably search elsewhere. Which isn't to say they don't nail the time period completely in look, sound and everything else accompanying it. There is one brush with history, and while it's a big one, it's handled so nonchalantly that it hardly draws attention to itself. The Coens have nothing to prove. No one to impress. They just know exactly what they're doing, even when we haven't the slightest clue. Sometimes it's best to just trust the audience to figure things out.

Despite its subject being loosely based on late folk singer Dave Van Ronk (and his posthumously published 2005 memoir, The Mayor of MacDougal Street) this isn't Van Ronk biopic. That his ex-wife has criticized the film for being untruthful or inaccurate makes little sense considering it's not about him. By all accounts, Van Ronk was a well-liked guy with few (or any) of the problems this protagonist deals with. It's the trajectory of his career that provides the inspiration more than anything else. He's the jumping off point. Fame may have eluded him, but he wasn't a failure. Inside Llewyn Davis is all about failure and what it means. Or rather how thin the line separating failure and success can be. There were many more Dave Van Ronks than Bob Dylans, which makes one wonder if some strange combination of luck, opportunity, skill, timing or motivation caused the former to fade into obscurity while the latter became a legend? The film doesn't attempt to make sense of that because you can't. The Coens wisely choose not to try, and by doing that, somehow do.  

At one point Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) is told, rather pointedly, that he doesn't have the innate charisma or connection with the audience to ever become a successful solo act in the business. It's clearer to us even earlier that he just might not have the ability to connect with people at all in any capacity. Llewyn was one half of a semi-popular folk duo with musical partner, Mike Timlin (sung by Mumford and Sons' Marcus Mumford), who killed himself jumping off the George Washington Bridge. At this rate, he's headed in the same direction, with his life stuck in an endless loop of mooching off friends who probably should have stopped tolerating him a while ago. What's saddest and darkly comical about the situation is how talented he actually is and how little that seems to matter.

The film's opening, in which he sings a gut-wrenching rendition of "Hang Me, Oh Hang Me" at the Gaslight wins us over immediately, and we'll stay on his side even as it's clear later the lengths he'll go to squander that potential. His manager isn't paying him. His sister hates him. And now he's stuck with an orange cat belonging to his friends the Gorfeins, whose Upper West Side apartment he's just crashed at. But his most fractured relationship is with folk singer and ex-flame Jean (Carey Mulligan), who he impregnated in spite of her being married to good friend Jim (Justin Timberlake). Short on money and with a solo recording deal far out of reach, Llewyn has to choose between what he considers "selling out" to pursue a music career, or abandoning it altogether. What's so tragicomic is how he somehow finds a way to royally screw up both options. He's just one of those guys where nothing he does seems to go right no matter how hard he tries. And, admittedly, he isn't even trying very hard since he doesn't care, or maybe cares a little too much, with very few definitive actions backing it up.

It's one hilarious catastrophe after the next that leads him to desperately take Timberlake's Jim up on his invitation to join he and Al Cody (Adam Driver) to record a goofy, folk-pop song called "Please, Mr. Kennedy." A lot has already been said and written about the scene and song being the film's defining (and funniest) moment, and it is, but it's interesting to look at it from the perspective of what qualified as embarrassingly bad commercial music that appealed to the masses in the early '60's. The real irony might be that the ridiculously catchy, borderline brilliant song is about ten times better than anything that would even pass as legitimately good pop music today. It really isn't bad, but the performances from the three actors as they discuss and prepare to deliver it in the scene's context makes it seem like the silliest song ever written. In any other context, it's amazing. But Llewyn is truly mortified having to perform it, before unintentionally sabatoging what could have been his only big payout with a lack of business acumen.

As much action that takes place in a time specific New York, the strangest section of the film actually occurs on the way to Chicago, as Llewyn hitches a ride with a James Dean-like beat poet named Johnny Five (Garrett Hedlund) and his passenger, the cranky, belligerent jazz musician Roland Turner (John Goodman, in top form), who spends the entire road trip hurling insults and telling nonsensical stories. I'm guessing this is the place where the movie probably loses a lot of perplexed audience members, but anyone familiar with the Coens work will instantly recognize it as the most Coen-like part of this whole absurd, but strangely moving adventure that's brimming at the rim with eccentric characters.

The casting of Oscar Isaac was a masterstroke because we don't really know who he is and doesn't bring the baggage a bigger, more established name would. Watching him as Llewyn is like seeing (and of course listening) to him for the first time, since few are likely to even recognize the actor from his supporting roles in movies like Drive. He's the star of the show playing a depressed character who lacks the charisma and drive to ever be the star of the show. Think how difficult that must be. And yet, against all odds, he manages to make this selfish, angry guy completely likable every step of the way. There wasn't a moment I wasn't rooting for him to pull out of this rut, even as the chances of that continue to diminish with each passing disaster. And boy can Isaac ever sing. I'd say he should release a folk album but he already did. It's the soundtrack to this movie which, top to bottom, feels like a legitimate folk release from the early '60's. Everyone in this does their own singing with famed producer T-Bone Burnett again turning in revelatory work by seamlessly replicating the music of the period.

In a way, it also feels like we're discovering the better known Carey Mulligan for the first time since seeing her play a morose, angry character who curses like a sailor would seem about a thousand paces removed for her if not for the added layer of vulnerability she infuses her with. Timberlake, as usual, proves there are few limits to what he can do as a performer in any medium, as it's unlikely anyone suspected he'd be able to believably portray one half of a folk duo with Mulligan and that they'd look and sound so authentic.

"Play me something from Inside Llewyn Davis," requests record producer Bud Grossman (F. Murray Abraham) when the singer arrives to meet him in Chicago. Llewyn responds by pouring his heart out with the beautifully depressing "The Death of Queen Jane," an eerily appropriate song selection given his current state. It's only upon reflection that this becomes the most important scene of the film, likely stinging quite a bit for anyone who's suffered for their art, been judged, or faced the pain of rejection. So basically everyone. Ultimately, does it matter whether this producer thinks there's any "money" in this? Are his criticisms valid or is he just on a power trip at Llewyn's expense? One could argue that if he truly had the passion and fire in his belly to see this through then it wouldn't have mattered to him one bit what this producer thought. If he loved making music he wouldn't he continue doing it, even if it meant temporarily finding another means of income? That's the big question mark. His talent is not.

A big fuss has been made by some about how a big a jerk this character is, but so was Bob Dylan, and we liked him. So that can't be it. History is written by the winners, even if the losers are often losers for a reason. Llewyn isn't quite as unlikable as he's been accused, or even as unlikable as some of the other characters he shares this Greenwich Village universe with. He's just badly floundering. Defeated by life and himself. The film's ending (which I won't dare spoil here) almost seems like a cruel (but wickedly hilarious) cosmic joke, reminding us that sometimes it really is only about being at the right place at the right time. And a bunch of other cards lining up just right. None of them have for this guy, partially by his own doing. The film does this loopy thing with time, folding over on itself and suggesting he may never break out of this cycle, opening up what was a relatively simple story for a variety of differing interpretations.

Admittedly it takes a while for this whole experience to settle in because there's so much more going on than first appears on the surface and I'm still not sure I've processed all of it. That final scene is a real zinger. We like to be on the winning team and watching movies about success make us feel good. But the few movies made about failure usually end up being deeper and more interesting. There are a limited number of ways to achieve, but no bounds to the amount of seemingly improbable ways someone can't. Llewyn Davis has most of them covered, and in showing that, the Coens give us exactly the '60's folk film we didn't know we wanted, or even necessarily deserved.

Country Strong

Director: Shana Feste
Starring: Gwyneth Paltrow, Tim McGraw, Garrett Hedlund, Leighton Meester
Running Time: 112 min.
Rating: PG-13

★★ ½ (out of ★★★★)

I remember reading an article some time back describing Gwyneth Paltrow the "anti-girl next door." As inaccurate as that title is is, it's still pretty funny since you immediately know what it implies. Yes it's true that Paltrow isn't really like Sandra Bullock, Julia Roberts or even Jennifer Aniston, despite being more talented and doing more consistently diverse work than them. Women don't want to be her best friend or hang out with her. Guys generally aren't interested in bringing her home to mom. There's this aura of sophistication and aloofness to her that's caused the media to unfairly or not label her as "cold." Worse yet, there's this perception she's unwilling to get her hands dirty in a gritty role. For many, just the thought of Paltrow drinking a beer, much less playing a alcoholic country singer caught in a downward spiral of addiction and depression, would be good for a few laughs. And in Country Strong it is. But not because of her performance, which while very good, is strangely still the least impressive in the film. She's completely believable as a country superstar, especially onstage where she's no better or worse than some of the singers you'd typically see on the Country Music Awards or Billboard charts. It's everything that happens off stage with her character that's ridiculous. And that's not Paltrow's fault. It's bad form for me to do this but Roger Ebert hit the nail right on the head when he wrote in the first line of his review:

"Country Strong is one of the best movies of 1957, and I mean that sincerely as a compliment."
    
There's almost nothing to add to that. A true throwback, the movie is essentially a full-length melodramatic soap opera and guilty pleasure worthy of a recommendation if not for the fact I still have to look at myself in the mirror tomorrow morning. It's awful and at times unintentionally hilarious in how it piles on every cliche in the book, but has so much fun doing it and wears its heart on its sleeve in such an honest way that you're almost willing to forgive. At least until the end. Forget about this being Gwyneth's Crazy Heart, the similarly themed 2009 film that won Jeff Bridges his Oscar. That was about a washed-up country legend on his last legs, his demons and alcohol abuse sabotaging whatever shot he has left at a comeback on stage and in life. In it alcoholism is actually treated as a disease. Here, you'd think being an alcoholic is kind of fun. If "Bad Blake" is a grizzled warrior than Paltrow's Kelly Canter is a pop diva (that the character's supposedly patterned after Britney Spears isn't surprising). That's an important distinction both in terms of how they're entirely different films and why Paltrow's casting makes sense. When Kelly's latest rehab stint gets cut short by her controlling manager/ husband, James (Tim McGraw) and she's thrown back on stage before even being close to ready, only her "sponsor" Beau Hutton (Garrett Hedlund) realizes what a huge mistake it is. Except he's a lot more than her sponsor and a great singer in his own right who joins Kelly on tour with up- and-coming country starlet Chiles Stanton (Leighton Meester), a beauty queen with a big voice but a lot of self-doubt. With her career in turmoil, Kelly knows her days on top are numbered as Chiles inches closer to taking her spot.

The irony is with all the effort that's put in to selling the central storyline of a fading country star being swallowed up by her inner demons, it's the sub-plot involving the supporting characters that soars. We know Paltrow has the perfect look for this and can sing and perform with the best of them, but Kelly's sporadic episodes of self-destruction are so insanely over-the-top it almost becomes irrelevant whether or not she's even capable of playing an addict. This is really just someone who drinks and cries a lot. It's still a good performance, but it's at the service of a story that has a TV movie of the week feel, complete with the "evil manager" who Tim McGraw somehow manages to make human. It's the complete opposite of the saintly husband he played in The Blind Side, another throwback film this closely resembles for about three quarters of its running time. For most of that time its moderate success can be attributed to Leighton Meester and Garrett Hedlund, the real stars of this who deliver performances about five times better than anyone had any reason to expect.

It's a shock Meester and Hedlund are even better country singers than Paltrow but less surprising is how real and well written their scenes together are compared to the goofy central storyline. Meester brings this optimistic, sweet faced innocence to Chiles and shares a great late scene with Paltrow suggesting this movie really should have been about her, and if it was, she'd have no problem carrying it at all. And it probably would have been a lot more interesting. Last seen in the digitized grid of TRON: Legacy, Hedlund (totally unrecognizable) wasn't given the type of role that gave us any indication whether or not he can act. Turns out he can and very well. Watching this you realize he wouldn't really seem that out of place in something grittier like Crazy Heart, as he gives off a cool, tough vibe that recalls a young Penn or Brando. It's a shame he's in this instead but you have to start somewhere and he and Meester walk away in much better positions than when they went in, especially considering the film's failure will unfairly fall on Paltrow.

The director of this, Shana Feste, also made a little movie a couple of years ago called The Greatest which also attempted to lift a familiar soap opera story to a higher level with almost equally mixed results. There is actually a lot to like here. The production value is top notch. The music is great. The acting is strong across the board. And it's definitely not a rip-off of the far superior Crazy Heart, which itself was always falsely accused being a rip-off of The Wrestler. Seemingly forgetting the type of film this is, Feste loses her way in the third act, making a brave but tonally inconsistent decision that puts the focus exactly where it shouldn't be at the worst possible time. It's ironic a movie about a veteran performer in danger of being upstaged by new, younger blood ends up being the story of the film itself. If nothing else, Country Strong is at least one of the more fun bad movies you could accidentally stumble on while flipping through the channels on a slow weeknight. Having actually rented it, I'll have to come up with another excuse.

Tron: Legacy

 

Director: Joseph Kosinski
Starring: Jeff Bridges, Garrett Hedlund, Olivia Wilde, Bruce Boxleitner, Michael Sheen, James Frain
Running Time: 127 min.
Rating: PG

★★★★ (out of ★★★★)

Now this makes sense. Here's a film released in 3D, and a sequel no less, where an argument can actually be made that it warrants that presentation based on its STORY. TRON: Legacy doesn't feel like a cash grab so commend Disney for taking the financial risk of sequeling a massive flop released nearly thirty years ago to grant diehard fans their wish. They can even be forgiven for pulling the original from DVD shelves because they were secretly worried the uninitiated would see it, realize how bad it was, then stay away from this. Silly thinking when you consider the most interested would be those who saw and loved the original, but not so silly when that cult is probably still too small to make a dent at the box office. Not that the 1982 film is bad, just that it's a draggy mess, and the excitement of watching it always far eclipsed the final product on screen, which now seems more painfully dated than ever. Yet millions (including myself) justifiably love it anyway, having to stand by as it's pummeled by critics, waiting patiently for the sequel we didn't think could ever come, but knew with all the advances in computer generated technology, would make perfect sense.

Now that the follow-up to TRON is here and everything we imagined it could be and more, it's kind of mind-boggling (not to mention hilariously ironic) that naysayers are still looking for things to complain about. Most of the unfair complaints leveled against TRON: Legacy have been at its screenplay which makes me wonder what they thought of the original's script, mostly an incoherent mess from middle to end. This story is an improvement in every way, much sharper focused with a clear-end point destination for its characters whose fates we're completely invested in. First time director Joseph Kosinski takes the forward looking ideas from 1982 to the level we always wanted while still managing to remain remarkably faithful to the original in surprising ways. Worth every year of the wait, he's made a sequel superior in every way to its predecessor and a film that comes as close as possible to matching the actual experience of watching it. 

It's almost surreal seeing Flynn's Arcade again, only this time in a decrepit state, abandoned and unoccupied since its iconic appearance in the last film. Its owner, software engineer and ENCOM CEO Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges) has been trapped inside his own creation, The Grid, for the past 20 years. A mysterious pager message originating from the arcade grabs the attention of his 27 year-old son Sam (Garrett Hedlund), who's been in the dark about his father's whereabouts since his disappearance in 1989. As primary shareholder he's effectively pretended to take little interest in what's now become of the company. At the urging of his dad's best friend and colleague, Alan Bradley (a returning Bruce Boxleitner) he investigates the page and is sucked into the machine himself, coming face-to-face with Clu, a dangerous digital copy of his father who's seized control of The Grid, forcing the real Kevin Flynn into hiding. With his help and that of digital apprentice Quorra (Oilvia Wilde), Sam must find a way to defeat Clu and make sure they make it through the portal back to the real world before it closes for good.

Let's just get it out of the way now: The digital rendering of Jeff Bridges in the opening scene isn't anywhere near where it needs to be. It's been pointed out already by everyone but for me it's the only aspect of a technically superb production that sticks out as a big flaw. The CGI Clu that appears later is fine since he's supposed to be a digital creation within a video game, but for a flashback with young Sam in 1989 it sticks out like a sore thumb because he's sharing the screen with a real actor. With dead eyes and minimal texture and expression, Bridges looks like a cross between Benjamin Button, a character from The Polar Express or something out of a Playstation 2 game. Given how advanced movie technology has become it's almost kind of a relief to discover that we still have one problem that needs fixing. I don't know what could have been done instead since a young Bridges had to be shown somehow in these flashbacks but they're clearly not at the point where this approach can be pulled off yet.

The father/son dynamic absolutely had to hit its mark for the narrative to succeed since its the only human interest entry point for those unfamiliar with the original film. Aside from the technical issues with that particular scene, the film perfectly reinforces this aspect throughout, and it'll resonate even more for those who remembers the original, putting them roughly in the same age bracket as the protagonist. They'll also better appreciate the cool touches like the TRON and The Black Hole posters in Sam's room and little details Kosinski retained in the light cycle and disc battles in The Grid, helping make this as much a tribute to the childhood memories of those who grew up with the first film as this past year's atrocious Karate Kid remake was an attempt to butcher them. 

Calling TRON: Legacy a feast for the senses would be an understatement. The cinematography, art and set design, visual effects, costumes, sound and everything going right down the line from a technical and aesthetic standpoint is unmatchable. As hinted at from from the trailer, the trippy look of this film is amazing so it's unlikely 25 years from now the effects will be laughed at the way the original's (revolutionary for their time) are now. Daft Punk's dark, pounding score rivals Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross' work on The Social Network as the best of the year, reminding us there are usually two types of great musical scores. The ones that jump out at you with their distinctiveness and almost seem to be operating on a level different from the film in which they appear and the others that so perfectly match the material they literally become part of it. This fits in the latter category, not just fully ingrained into the fabric of the picture but feeling as if it's derived from The Grid itself.

As for the 3D (which this was filmed in, not converted to in post-production) and its benefits, the jury's still out. I'll have a better idea when I rewatch it on DVD and determine how much is lost, but there were times during the action scenes where everything seemed a little muddled making it difficult to follow what was happening, but the same could be said for just about any other action movie regardless of format. It's possible in a couple of months I pop in the DVD and it's visually an empty shell of what it was on the big screen, but that's extremely doubtful given everything else this has going for it from a production design and technical standpoint. A DVD viewing won't lie, a film can't hide behind its effects and environmental factors (people talking, uncomfortable seats) aren't influencing your perception. That said, I'd be crazy to even suggest this shouldn't be seen in a theater for maximum effect or it didn't add to the overall viewing experience so it's a double-edged sword there.

Down the road this will likely hold up better than everyone thinks mainly because the story is far more interesting and developed than anyone's giving it credit for. It's not only a logical progression of the last film's events, but recalls the best elements of the original Star Wars trilogy, such as the father-son dynamic, pupil vs. wise mentor, the light saber battles (but with cycles and discs) and even a plot development mid-way through that seems directly inspired by The Empire Strikes Back. What's so ironic is that even working within restrictive PG confines Kosinski has the guts to go the darker, more adult places George Lucas wimped out of in the prequel trilogy when he instead opted to play with kiddie gloves much like Cameron did with Avatar, an otherwise solid enterprise undermined by his silly desire to deliver an eco-friendly public service announcement. Kosinski, an architect and former director of commercials (who's unsurprisingly a disciple of David Fincher) clearly harbors no ulterior motives other than faithfully expanding Steve Lisberger's original vision from 1982 and the honesty of those intentions bleed through every frame of the picture.

Despite what James Cameron might try to convince you, actors are in no danger of being replaced by motion capture or CGI anytime soon and two performances here will vouch for it. Garrett Hedlund's isn't one of them but he's as good as can be expected in pulling off the standard hero requirements of Sam. The nature of the story doesn't even really need him to be great but he gets the job done just fine. As if we needed a reminder of just how invaluable an actor Jeff Bridges is, we get yet another, proving as he enters the elder statesman portion of his career that he's doing some of his most interesting work. Just about the only thing that could possibly top the thrill of seeing him in a sequel to TRON would be seeing him return to it as The Dude, and he kind of gives that to us with a laid-back, Zen-like turn that recalls some of the little quirks of that character while still projecting the essence of Kevin Flynn. Exiled in an "off-grid" hideout exactly resembling in both design and sound the white hotel room in 2001: A Space Odyssey (clearly another homage), a dinner table sequence reuniting father and son might be one of the most impressive scenes of the year in terms of narrative content and visual execution. Because she's so disarmingly beautiful it's easy to be distracted and miss all the things Olivia Wilde does with her eyes, facial expressions and vocal inflections to suggest Quorra's innocent curiosity and bewilderment of the world around her, as well as Sam's arrival. Doing so much with little dialogue it's the kind of strong female portrayal that's been sorely missing of late in big budget sci-fi movies, leaving any leftover memories of Cindy Morgan's work from the first film in the dust. Based on all the evidence here, she's set to become a big star very soon. In no danger of being overlooked is Michael Sheen's eerie channeling of the Ziggy Stardust-era David Bowie as flamboyant nightclub owner Castor. His screen time is limited but he more than makes the most of it, owning those scenes with a bombastic, creepy flare.

Ending a movie effectively is tough and rarely accomplished which makes it all the more impressive that a first-time filmmaker knew to how construct a final scene and shot that's perfect in every way.  It's possible to move forward with another sequel or choose not to, but based on this conclusion, neither choice is wrong. I can't understand how anyone can look at that final moment, how the story logically arrived there, and even attempt to claim Adam Horowitz and Edward Kitsis' screenplay is shaky or incoherent. This could easily be considered the most underrated effort of the year proving, just as Inception as did, that when science fiction is executed well few other genres are capable of generating as much thought and excitement. The ideas are the effects and the effects are the ideas, creating complete immersion for the viewer. It's unfortunate even those who have mildly praised the film have done so backhandedly, writing it off as nothing more than a "guilty pleasure" or excusing their endorsement by claiming to have gone in with low expectations. It has its flaws and isn't perfect, but that's kind of fitting isn't it? The sequel to a film that for many was perfect precisely because of its goofy imperfections is getting the same condescending response its prequel has been receiving for the past 25 years. TRON was always about style over substance and the feeling of excitement it created in viewers who hoped it could live up to its ideas. TRON: Legacy successfully recaptures that feeling but goes further in being the film we always wanted the original to be.