The film covers a week or so in the life of
Greenwich Village folksinger Llewyn Davis in early-1961.
Now, having seen the film, I can report
mixed feelings. Although I was a decade or so too young to have experienced
that scene at that time (I got to the folk scene in Montreal as a teenager in
the late-1960s and first visited Greenwich Village folk clubs in 1974 when I
would have been about the same age Bob Dylan was when he arrived in ‘61), I’ve
known a lot of the musicians who were there at the time and many of them are friends I’ve
had extensive conversations about that time with.
So, if I detach myself from what I know of
that scene and of the people who were there, I can say that I enjoyed the movie
as a dark exploration of a frustrated, self-centered folksinger suffering an
existential crisis. God knows I’ve seen any number of musicians and
non-musicians go through such crises over the past 40 years or so. That
depiction, acted so well by Oscar Isaac as Llewyn Davis, was compelling to
watch.
I also enjoyed the depictions of Folkways
Records (Legacy Records in the movie) and its legendary founder Moe Asch (Mel
Novikoff in the movie) and of Albert Grossman (Bud Grossman in the movie) who
really did run a folk club called the Gate of Horn in Chicago before coming to
New York. I also quite liked the scene where Llewyn shows up at the seamen’s
union trying to ship out again with the Merchant Marine. I’ve heard stories directly
from Dave Van Ronk that make those scenes seem very authentic.
But, early on, it becomes obvious that
Llewyn Davis is not Dave Van Ronk and is no Dave Van Ronk. By 1961, Dave was
already established on the Village folk scene as a central and influential
artist. He did not bounce from couch to couch like Llewyn; rather he and his
first wife Terri Thal provided indigent folksingers – like the young Bob Dylan – with
a couch to sleep on. Dave also did not drive – which Llewyn does – and I can’t
imagine him exploding at benefactors or at a fellow performer the way Llewyn does.
Throughout the film, Llewyn has a chip on his shoulder that’s bigger than himself
and that too wasn’t Dave.
Llewyn Davis explodes at a request to play
a song in a social setting declaring he’s a professional; that he should only
sing for payment. Most folksingers I’ve known have been people who are driven
to sing and play music. It’s not just what they do or did on stage, it’s a way
of life. They derive joy in playing music for the sake of playing music. Some
of the best music I’ve ever heard has been off stage, late at night – including
some of the best music I’ve ever heard Dave Van Ronk play.
This did not seem to be a folk scene that
included the Sunday afternoon gatherings in Washington Square Park or at Izzy
Young’s Folklore Center. Llewyn and the other musicians did not seem obsessed
with the history of music and the musicians that came before them. Dave Van
Ronk, Bob Dylan and so many others on that scene were intent on soaking those
things up.
The character Troy Nelson – a soldier
stationed at Fort Dix who came to the Village to play music when he could – was
obviously inspired by the young Tom Paxton. Troy even sings “The Last Thing On
My Mind,” Tom’s best-known song, as his own. But, just as Llewyn Davis is
decidedly not my friend Dave Van Ronk, Troy Nelson bears little resemblance to
my friend Tom Paxton. Tom is smart, witty, funny and generous. I just can’t
imagine him as the dumb country bumpkin that the character Troy is.
I do think it is a good movie. I’m a fan of
the Coen Brothers and really like what they do on film. However, as a portrayal
of a scene and of people I know personally, too much of it doesn’t ring true
for me. For more about that from someone who was there have a look at the article Terri Thal wrote for the Village Voice.
--Mike Regenstreif
