Inside Llewyn Davis

It’s New York, 1961, and Llewyn Davis (Isaac) is one more folk singer looking to earn a dime in a wintry Greenwich Village that’s on the cusp of the folk scene explosion. Once a duo, the narcissistic Davis’ solo album has flopped and he struggles to make ends meet, playing for the basket at the Gaslight and crashing on the couches of his ever-dwindling cache of friends.

Partly inspired by Dave Von Ronk’s autobiography, Inside Llewyn Davis is a character study of a character who fails to ignite much interest. With little to go on as to who he is, Carey Mulligan’s Jean, one half of a folk duo (an underused Timberlake makes up the other half), fills us in, existing only to tell Llewyn how nasty he is. A road trip to Chicago shakes him from Jean’s insults but Llewyn merely swaps her abuse for Goodman’s abrasive drug addict who, when not dissecting Llewyn’s life choices, pokes him with his cane. Like Timberlake, Garrett Hedlund who plays Goodman’s driver, might as well not be there.

But is he that hateful? He does some questionable things: he drunkenly heckles a fellow performer; he sleeps with a friend’s girlfriend (the blame of this is entirely his for some reason) and, worse, offers no resistance to her wanting an abortion; and when invited to dinner by some well-to-do friends he angrily exclaims he’s not a performing monkey when called on to sing. Later on he passes up the opportunity to make good but that’s much much later.

The subplot of Llewyn and his friend’s cat, whom he accidently lets out one morning, may get to the heart of Llewyn and the story but it’s distracting. Running all over New York trying to track it down, the cat comes to represent his inability to tame the wildness inside him and/or his one attempt at reconciliation - if he endeavours to do this one thing there must be some good in him.

Maybe Llewyn was an uglier person on the page but Oscar Isaac’s tired eyes soften him. Isaac has been turning in solid performances in smaller roles in Robin Hood, Drive and Sucker Punch and grasps the opportunity of being a leading a man. He’s charismatic, lending the egotistical singer-songwriter some inner sadness. If the camera wasn’t pointing directly at him, you’d seek him out.

Occasionally spellbinding - it looks terrific, the era is beautifully realised and the music (the songs are played live and in their entirety) is wonderful - but Inside Llewyn Davis is underwhelming.