“I thought singing was a joyous expression of the soul.” 

The films of Joel and Ethan Coen, with their idiosyncrasies and distinctive world building, are a finely tuned balance between film noir and comedy of errors. The Coen brothers have been mastering this tightrope over the past four decades, from 1991’s Barton Finkand 1996’s Fargo, to 2009’s A Serious Manand 2013’s Inside Llewyn Davis. Sprinkled across their filmography, some entries lean further into humor (1998’s The Big Lebowski; 2008’s Burn After Reading), and others into thriller (2007’s No Country for Old Men). Then there’s the otherworldly exploration of Shakespeare (2021’s The Tragedy of Macbeth) directed by Joel Coen, marking the first Coen film without the credited involvement of both brothers. Together or apart, they craft consistently intriguing worlds, often inhabited by characters with dashed dreams and fallen ideals. The Coens exhibit tremendous passion for detailed character work. Actors are drawn to their projects like moths to a flame. Whether it’s frequent collaborators such as Frances McDormand and John Goodman, or Coen newcomers such as Oscar Isaac and Carey Mulligan, each and every actor feels essential to the storytelling. Under the trusty helm of the brothers’ direction and writing, the performances shine with a collective strive to make something memorable.

The Coen brothers have enjoyed a steady hand of critical and commercial success, each with a total of fourteen Oscar nominations and four wins. They have a dedicated audience, which has eluded the protagonist of their period film Inside Llewyn Davis. For folk musician Llewyn Davis (played brilliantly by Oscar Isaac), singing is not simply “a joyous expression of the soul,” nor a parlor trick that he can perform at the drop of a hat. It’s what he does for a living, and there are moments of questioning whether the journey of making art is worth the sacrifices he makes. The fulfillment of artistic expression is a prominent theme throughout the story, as well as a double-edged sword that many people struggle with today. Celebrating the 10th anniversary of its theatrical release, Inside Llewyn Davis holds up fresh among the Coen brothers’ most compelling work and reverberates as one of the most intimate character portraits they have ever made. 

Something about the wintry New York backdrop of Inside Llewyn Davis is oddly comforting. The muted grey color palette dips characters in a palpable state of loneliness. It’s easy to identify with Oscar Isaac’s somber Llewyn, whose disillusioned outlook on success in the entertainment industry points to a life without a blueprinted future. Set in the 1960s New York folk scene, the film follows the musician with guitar in tow as he navigates the city in desperate search of an opportunity to land on his feet. Thrown into the mix, he’s stuck taking care of his neighbors’ cat Ulysses; if the Oscars had a category awarding the best performance by an animal, this cat would have deserved it in a cake walk). The film introduces Llewyn at a dimly lit Gaslight Cafe in Greenwich Village, a hotspot for folk musicians to share their talents. Llewyn pours his soul into a stunning performance of “Hang Me, Oh Hang Me.” The song immediately sets a mournful tone for the fatalistic odyssey that follows. 

Between chasing the cat, couch hopping with fellow folk musicians, visiting the family life he once knew, and facing the residue of a jaded past relationship with Jean (Carey Mulligan), Llewyn’s plate is full of uncertainties. While Jean tells him he doesn’t want to go anywhere, he retorts that her being a careerist is sad. Llewyn feels most confident about his music, but even then, the ongoing war between art and commerce tears at his love for the craft. His musical journey is not as simple as joyous expression, it’s a painful circular reality of surviving when the entertainment industry powers that be don’t deem you bankable. If Llewyn’s work ever does catch a wave in the public consciousness, it may very well be when he is “dead and gone,” as he sings in the film’s introductory song.

The melancholy of this opening performance also sets the stage for Llewyn’s complexities. He can be confrontational and hot-headed, as well as soothing and completely immersive in his musical storytelling. Despite his feeling of frustration towards the industry, and the relentless cycle of building up talent only to chew it out, he gives his all instrumentally. The experiences that are thrown at this character are not only played out on screen, but also heard through his soulful voice and dedication to seeing every ounce of opportunity through, even when he reaches brick walls of defeat. Following a decade of bit roles in studio and independent films, Llewyn Davis marks a career breakthrough role for Oscar Isaac. While sadly snubbed by the Academy for his performance as Llewyn, he earned several wins and nominations across various critics’ circles, and to this day the film stands out among his finest work. Llewyn’s lonesome trek is the heart of the film, and Isaac brings this character to life. He draws you in with charm and lingering ambition. He deftly draws from the roadblocks in Llewyn’s path, and how the character is living in frosty shadows following the tragic death of his music partner Mike. Songs they used to sing together don’t have the same melody anymore, and that heartache is written across Isaac’s face. 

While set in the 1960s and released over a decade ago, revisiting the film in today’s day and age feels stirring in its relevancy. Inside Llewyn Davis tells a timeless story when it comes to the inner conflict of being creative without the afforded privilege of opportunity and financial security. Many artists who create on the outskirts of the entertainment industry — whether engaged in music, filmmaking, painting, or various other forms of expression — are left on the sidelines. Llewyn’s frustration with harsh realities and eagerness to keep moving forward anyway are a devastatingly real perspective to form a connection with. One particular scene perfectly depicts the tug-of-war between passion and lack of opportunity. Fed up with a series of setbacks, Llewyn takes matters into his own hands and travels to Chicago so that he can visit The Gate of Horn, a music club run by Bud Grossman (F. Murray Abraham). Llewyn learns that his management had never sent a copy of his album to Bud, and in the wake of that discovery, Bud asks for a performance on the spot. The two characters proceed to sit by the venue stage, and Llewyn pours his heart into a performance of a gloomy folk song called “The Death of Queen Jane.” What is Bud’s response? “I don’t see a lot of money here.” The cold matter-of-factness in Abraham’s delivery is almost comical, given how rich Llewyn’s voice is, but also brutally truthful in how the industry measures commercial value. This scene also adds fuel to the underdog quality of Llewyn; you want to see him succeed.

The commercial side of the industry can be felt during the “Please Mr. Kennedy” scene, in which Llewyn and musicians Al Cody (Adam Driver) and Jim (Justin Timberlake) record a silly space sing-along. While Llewyn questions the lyrics (“I’m happy for the gig, but who wrote this?”) to the dismay of the song’s lyricist Jim, he eventually abandons ego and lets himself have fun with the song. As does Adam Driver’s Al Cody with his hilarious “outer…space” contributions. The catchiness and eventual commercial appeal of “Please Mr. Kennedy” stings in retrospect when Llewyn later decides not to claim any royalties on it. The use of music in this scene is one of several examples that speak to the film’s emotionally resonant soundtrack. Inspired by the music of folk singer Dave Van Ronk, and produced in collaboration with Marcus Mumford, the songs convey a specificity of the 1960s folk music scene and a universality in the story’s themes at play. The musical inspiration can be felt up until the final act, in which a young Bob Dylan character appears on stage, almost hidden by a moody soft focus. The unique cinematography of Inside Llewyn Davis, for which Delbonnel was nominated at the Oscars, sets it apart from the Coen brothers’ previous work. The grey color scheme emphasizes the gloominess and loneliness of Llewyn’s environment, as doors are closing all around him, without feeling exaggerated or too on-the-nose.

From the music and sounds to the cinematography and performances, each element of Inside Llewyn Davisworks in harmony to bring a folk odyssey to life. Cynical and humorous in equal measure, the film endures in its ability to give you the sensation of something both old and new. This gem may seem more subdued and simpler compared to the majority of entries in the Coen brothers’ canon. But Inside Llewyn Davis lingers just as powerfully, with thematic explorations just as loud, and engages with a narrative that will never lose its relevance: the pursuit of artistic fulfillment.