Saw Inside Llewyn Davis last night. Liked quite a few parts of it, particularly the singing (Oscar Issac, you never disappoint), Carey Mulligan being a total badass, the cat, Llewyn’s having of the cat, and the introduction of so many shades of people in a one and a half hour long film.
There are bits that run a little dry, say the long stretches of Garrett Hedlund driving, and smoking, and smoking, and driving. They are fortunately interspersed with John Goodman talking and being still very much John Goodman while looking like a caricature of Colonel Sanders.
But that also brings me to my problem with the film. It’s good and lovely, but I never do see past the fact that the people in it are actors, and that while I am meant to relate to the characters, beyond Llewyn, I never actually do feel anything for anyone else in a great enough extent to remember their names.
Good songs, though.
Oh, and it was filmed really well. Criticism aside, it was enjoyable and at times, pretty hilarious – as far as Coen brothers movies go, which is to say, it was still really fucking sad.
you beautiful Guatemalan man