As I walked out of the theater where my friend and I had just paid $11 each to see this film, I thought to myself, "Well, maybe next time they'll actually make a movie." Because I would not really consider this a movie. It is a half-baked, moody character sketch of an unbelievable character. As another reviewer pointed out, Llewyn Davis is quite good looking and capable of performing passionately. To think that not one of the women in the clubs he plays would offer him a place to sleep for the night is absurd. That is only one example of how the film favors contrivance over believability. John Goodman's character is another big one.
The movie is a pointless waste of time, a dreary faux-odyssey about a character who is such an awful, self-centered person that you could not possibly care what happens to him. But don't worry, because nothing happens to him. The film ends as it begins, with him getting beaten up for being a selfish jerk. As many have pointed out, this movie does not capture the heady, vibrant spirit of the early 60s folk scene in NYC. If you want that, read Bob Dylan's wonderful Chronicles, Vol. I.
I've enjoyed many of the Coen Brothers films, but they just phoned this one in, I guess. Or they've become so enamored with their own Hollywood brilliance that they can't tell good from bad. And Hollywood is so shallow and moronic that I would not be surprised if this gets nominated for "Best Film." Yeah, right.
I enjoy a lot of folk music, from early Dylan to Nick Drake and many others, but the songs in this film were long and boring and unmemorable. Huge amounts of the film are devoted to Llewyn singing ENTIRE SONGS (like five or six minute long songs) that are in no way remarkable. I guess that's the point, since he's supposed to be failure. Instead of devoting film time to character or plot development, to comedy or entertainment, we are supposed to be entranced somehow by the emotion of this fake music. I guess it worked magic on professional film critics. The "Please Mr. Kennedy" novelty song was beyond stupid. And when Davis abandoned the cat in the car with the passed out, possibly even dead, Goodman character, I thought, "Screw this guy! I hate him. I hope he gets beaten up again. I'll beat him up."
As a work of art, which it clearly aspires to be, this movie lacks intricacy, depth, or insight. The Coens already covered this material with Barton Fink, which I've always enjoyed, but BF was a much more satisfying and entertaining film. I'd rather go see a mindless Star Trek movie than something this pretentious and intentionally pointless. I don't want to see it again, not even for a buck at Redbox. This is the worst Coen Bros movie I've seen.
The movie is a pointless waste of time, a dreary faux-odyssey about a character who is such an awful, self-centered person that you could not possibly care what happens to him. But don't worry, because nothing happens to him. The film ends as it begins, with him getting beaten up for being a selfish jerk. As many have pointed out, this movie does not capture the heady, vibrant spirit of the early 60s folk scene in NYC. If you want that, read Bob Dylan's wonderful Chronicles, Vol. I.
I've enjoyed many of the Coen Brothers films, but they just phoned this one in, I guess. Or they've become so enamored with their own Hollywood brilliance that they can't tell good from bad. And Hollywood is so shallow and moronic that I would not be surprised if this gets nominated for "Best Film." Yeah, right.
I enjoy a lot of folk music, from early Dylan to Nick Drake and many others, but the songs in this film were long and boring and unmemorable. Huge amounts of the film are devoted to Llewyn singing ENTIRE SONGS (like five or six minute long songs) that are in no way remarkable. I guess that's the point, since he's supposed to be failure. Instead of devoting film time to character or plot development, to comedy or entertainment, we are supposed to be entranced somehow by the emotion of this fake music. I guess it worked magic on professional film critics. The "Please Mr. Kennedy" novelty song was beyond stupid. And when Davis abandoned the cat in the car with the passed out, possibly even dead, Goodman character, I thought, "Screw this guy! I hate him. I hope he gets beaten up again. I'll beat him up."
As a work of art, which it clearly aspires to be, this movie lacks intricacy, depth, or insight. The Coens already covered this material with Barton Fink, which I've always enjoyed, but BF was a much more satisfying and entertaining film. I'd rather go see a mindless Star Trek movie than something this pretentious and intentionally pointless. I don't want to see it again, not even for a buck at Redbox. This is the worst Coen Bros movie I've seen.
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