Much like the somber melodies that float throughout its 105-minute runtime, Inside Llewyn Davis will remain lodged in your head weeks after you and the film first meet. With Oscar Isaac's "Fare thee we-e-ell..." ringing daintily in your ears, you'll shuffle out from the grasp of the Coen Brothers' wonderland of gray, but you won't soon be able to relieve yourself of what is arguable the pair's best film yet. Llewyn's is a story so outstandingly simple — he's a man who's s**t out of luck, and not especially deserving of any. He wakes up, loses his friend's cat, plays some music, and wishes things were better. And yet his is the Coens' most invigorating and deftly human tale yet.
Llewyn Davis makes the bold, but practical, choice of never insisting that we love its hero. He's effectively a jackass, justifying all the waste he has incurred with the rudeness he showers on the majority of those in his acquaintance. But Llewyn Davis isn't the villain here, either. The villain is the industry, and all the uphill battles inherent to its machinations. The villain isn't Llewyn's substantially more successful contacts — an old pal Jim (Justin Timberlake) and new fellow couch-surfer Troy (Stark Sands), but the listening public that prefers their saccharine pop to his dreary drips of misery. The villain isn't Llewyn's resentful old flame Jean (Carey Mulligan), no matter how many volatile admonitions she might shoot his way, but the act of God surrounding their unwitting adherence to one another. And it's not even the cantankerous and foul Roland Turner (a delightfully hammy John Goodman), but the endless, frigid open road of which each man is a prisoner (if the film has one flaw, it's that this segment carries on just a bit too long, but that might very well be the point). The villain is the cold.
Call it all a raw deal. But the real dynamism isn't in the challenges that happen outside Llewyn Davis, but in the determined toxicity brewing inside as he meets each and every one.
But this isn't the Coen Brothers' Murphy's Law comedy A Serious Man — we don't watch a chaotic pileup of every imaginable trick that the devil can manage to pull. Llewyn is steady throughout, not burying Llewyn deeper but keeping him on the ground, with the fruit-bearing branches forever out of his reach. In its narrative, Llewyn Davis is as close to natural life as any of the filmmakers' works to date. Perfectly exhibited in a late scene involving a trip to Akron, Llewyn isn't a cinematic construct, but the sort of person we know, so painfully, that we are very likely to be... on our bad days.
Still, working in such a terrific harmony with the grounded feel of Llewyn himself, we have that Coen whimsy in their delivery of 1960s New York City — rather, a magic kingdom painted in the stellar form of a 1960s New York City. And not the New York City we're given by the likes of Martin Scorsese or Woody Allen. Closer, maybe, to Spike Lee or Sydney Lumet, but still a terrain unique to moviegoers. A New York that's always recovering from a hostile rain, and always promising another 'round the bend. One that flickers like a dying bulb, with its million odd beleaguered moths buzzing around it against the pull of logic. There is something so incredibly alive about the Coens' crying city; this hazy dream world's partnership with half-dead, anchored-to-earth portrait like Llewyn is the product of such sophisticated imagination at play.
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And to cap this review of one of the best features 2013 has given us, it's only appropriate to return to the element in which its identity is really cemented: the music. Without the tunes bobbing through the story, we'd still likely find something terrific in Llewyn Davis. But the music, as beautiful as it is, is the reason for the story. As we watch Isaac's hopeless sad sack drag himself through Manhattan's winter, past the helping hands of friends and into the grimaces of strangers, as we struggle with our own handfuls of nihilistic skepticism that any of this yarn is worth the agony (or that our attention to its meandering nature is worth the price of a ticket), we are given the rare treat of an answer. Of course it's all for something. Of course it's all about something. It's about that beautiful, beautiful music.
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In other words The Holiday probably falls under the “guilty pleasure” category. Its not a classic romantic comedy by any standards but darn it it still makes you smile more often than you want to admit. The story centers on two women: Iris (Kate Winslet) a British newspaper columnist hopelessly in love with a man about to marry someone else and Amanda (Cameron Diaz) a highly successful L.A. career woman who just broke up with her latest cheating boyfriend. Being at the right place at the right time these two gals meet online at a home exchange website and impulsively switch homes for the holiday. Shortly after arriving at their destinations both women find the last thing either wants or expects: A new romance. Amanda is charmed by Iris' handsome brother Graham (Jude Law) and Iris with inspiration provided by legendary screenwriter Arthur (Eli Wallach) mends her heart when she meets film composer Miles (Jack Black). Oh just go ahead and take a big gooey bite. It’s good for the soul. The biggest problem in The Holiday is unfortunately the casting—which is real shame because you really want the chemistry to zing. They get it right with Winslet and Law who are both trying something a little different as romantic leads. Winslet in fact admitted to Reuters this was one of the more nerve-wracking parts she’s ever played because she couldn’t hide behind an American accent or a costume playing someone closer to well herself. But you would think these two Oscar-nominees had been making these type movies all along especially the insanely gorgeous Law who should have every woman swooning with his sensitivity. Where they get it wrong is with the Americans as the Brits just act giant circles around them. Black is clearly out of place. Although being very charming and funny looking like he made Winslet laugh a LOT (and who wouldn’t with that guy around?) their connection on screen is somewhat amiss. Diaz comes off looking even worse. Even though she’s the veteran of the romantic comedy (There's Something About Mary My Best Friend's Wedding) her screechy neurotic klutzy Amanda is in no way appealing. You have to scratch your head wondering why Law’s Graham would fall so hard for her. What does make The Holiday work however is writer/director Nancy Meyers. She’s proven herself quite adept at the genre with films such as What Women Want and Something's Gotta Give under her belt. With The Holiday Meyers skillfully crafts individual moments of refreshing comedy as well as heartening scenes of blossoming romance. The initial seduction scene between Amanda and Graham is particularly sweet and quirky with the crisp dialogue flying at a nice clip. And isn’t it comforting to see a holiday movie minus feuding neighbors commerciality or any sort of mean-spiritedness? But Meyers has the tendency to go more for the superficial rather than dig deep with her characters. The Holiday has a one of those glossy rosy glows whose only aim is to make you feel good. True the film will mostly speak volumes to the women in the audience (that’s a polite way of saying its a “chick flick”) but oh well. It’s fluff may be a nice reprieve during the hustle and bustle of the season.
Twins Carly and Nick Jones (played by Cuthbert and One Tree Hill heartthrob Chad Michael Murray)--with Carly being the pretty goal-oriented "good" twin and Nick the sullen brooding "bad" one-- are road tripping to catch the big college game. Along for the ride are Carly's beau Wade (Gilmore Girls' Jared Padelecki) mini-cam-obsessed Dalton (Jon Abrahams) sports fan Blake (Robert Ri'chard) and his maybe-preggers girlfriend Paige (Paris Hilton in her first major acting role--unless you count certain portions of her infamous sex video). The requisite car trouble ultimately leads them to a requisitely isolated Iowa town where they must seek help from the requisitely creepy locals. Dominating the town is the House of Wax a paraffin-filled museum which doesn't just feature amazing wax likenesses of people and objects: the whole place is made out of wax walls and all. This despite being constructed over a fiery furnace used for…well these films aren't about logic are they? Throw in the requisite twisted menacing blood-lusting boogeyman--but wait! Let's have TWO bad guys! And make them twins! (Did I mention the script was written by Chad and Carey Hayes who happen to be twin brothers?) Cut to the running and the chasing and the cinematic carnage the corpses turned into those impossibly lifelike wax figurines the curvy Cuthbert in a white tank top and the impossibly big drippy finale and call it a day. This is just a messy pile of waxy build-up that'll take an extra-long Q-Tip to clean out of your brain.
Despite the jibes she gets for her 24 character's penchant for getting into laughably contrived peril the pert and sexy Cuthbert--who fills up a movie screen even more potently than the tube and lent a genuine vulnerability and pathos to her smoldering turn in The Girl Next Door--is emerging as one of the more interesting actresses of her TV-launched generation. Despite her natural charisma however there's no such opportunity for a multidimensional turn in House of Wax and for her career's sake Cuthbert should make this film her one-stop shopping trip to Horror-dom. She's made for much better things and the sickly sadistic and bloody punishments she endures in this film quite frankly can only distract her admirers from how hot she is. Murray also impresses as a film presence though he too is stuck in this thankless mess as the rebel who really has nothing to rebel against. Padelecki the film's "Hey let's see what's in here!" jackass whose idiotic actions drives every shallow horror plot should stick to his day job. And then there are the splendors of Paris: both she and the filmmakers seem to think that stripping the heiress of accessories like her tiny dog Tinkerbell and her Pepto-pink fashions is all that's necessary to believe Hilton as an entirely different character. Except none of us really want Paris to be an entirely different character. She's really only entertaining--and often equally as stiff and insipid like she is in this film--as herself and we'd all rather see her and Nicole Richie (or Kim Stewart or whatever less attractive less-wealthy and less-ditzy sidekick she's hanging with these days) screaming bloody murder at a real House of Waxing.
Let's hope for his sake music video director Jaume Serra didn't burn any bridges at MTV when he got called to the Hollywood ranks because House of Wax effectively demonstrates a lack of invention as a visualist an inability to effectively pace and develop a story--even one as shallow as this one--and an utter incapacity to create tension suspense or any genuine fear. The only scares here are the kind of easy unearned "pop-up-and-say-BOO!" variety that does little more than jolt the audience and cause their popcorn to spill. I'm tempted to give him mini-props for the nearly impressive and gooey finale but the credit probably belongs more to the f/x team than Serra. And it's shocking to learn that the entire film was shot on location in Australia if only because the claustrophobic town in which most of the action takes place seems as artificial and hermetically sealed as the Universal backlot.
Melissa Rivers, daughter of comedian and author Joan Rivers, reveals in the April 6 issue of TV Guide that she and husband John Endicott have separated. Rivers and Endicott tied the knot on Dec. 12, 1998 at New York's Plaza Hotel in a winter wonderland ceremony that included 100 white-painted trees and more than 20,000 flowers. Rivers told the magazine: "I had a pretty wedding. I made the pretty house. I had the pretty baby, I had the handsome husband. I had the career, he had the career, with me at the gate, waving.
"And the reality is: I'm flawed. He's flawed. I'm still in the honeymoon stages of trying to stay above the fray, and I'm going to be civil, but there have been days when I've just wanted to freak."
Black, Hispanic and Asian performers including Salma Hayek, Rosie Perez and rapper Eve took part in V-Day Harlem at the Apollo Theatre in New York City's Harlem neighborhood, the Associated Press reports. The event, a staged version of The Vagina Monologues, was a benefit to raise awareness about violence against women. Proceeds from the performance will go to several black, Hispanic and Asian women's anti-violence organizations.
The Tea Council is launching a new ad campaign aimed at revamping its image and has signed model Kate Moss to become Britain's new spokeswoman for tea, PageSix.com reports. The Tea Council is hoping Moss, who once admitted to drinking between 10-15 cups a day, will convince its target audience of women ages 25 to 34 that tea isn't just for grandma anymore.
Tara Reid, who plays a college newspaper journalist in National Lampoon's Van Wilder, told Newsday that she was attracted to the role to see "what it was like on the other side." In the film, Reid's character, Gwen, has to rewrite a piece that she feels is not very fair--which she thinks journalists don't do enough. "Some of the things people write about me are so not right, or so off, and I think, 'God, wouldn't it be nice if someone, one day, went back and opened their eyes?'"
Susan Sarandon, Leelee Sobieski and Robin Tunney will star in director George Hickenlooper's indie film A Whale in Montana. According toThe Hollywood Reporter, the film--a cross between Ghost and In the Bedroom--follows a widowed doctor (played by Sarandon) working in a small town and raising her 7-year-old daughter. The film also stars Donald Sutherland, David Strathairn and Rory Cochrane and is budgeted at less than $10 million.
Christina Ricci is in talks to star in Borgia, a historical drama set in the 15th century. She will join Ewan McGregor, who signed on last week. According to The Hollywood Reporter, Ricci will segue into the project after she completes shooting Woody Allen's untitled project.
Jimmy Fallon of Saturday Night Live is the latest star to join the untitled Allen project, which begins shooting this spring. Like most Allen films, the plot is being kept under wraps. Fallon will join Ricci, Jason Biggs, Glenn Close and Danny DeVito.
Julia Louis-Dreyfus told the Sunday edition of The Washington Post that unlike her two former Seinfeld co-stars, the show has been a blessing for her. NBC is hoping her new comedy, Watching Ellie, will not go the way of Jason Alexander and Michael Richards.
In an effort to distinguish its flagship series Raw on TNN and Smackdown on UPN, the World Wrestling Federation has designated specific wrestlers exclusively to each show, Variety reports. Raw, which airs Monday nights, will feature the Undertaker, Kane, Booker T, Rob Van Dam, Lita and the Hardy Boyz, while Thursday night's Smackdown will include the Rock, Hollywood Hulk Hogan, Kurt Angle, Chris Jericho, Edge and Stacy Kiebler. Stone Cold Steve Austin, Triple H and Jazz will float between the two shows for the time being.
Musicians Charlie Daniels and Aaron Neville spent Easter Sunday counseling inmates at the Louisiana State Penitentiary, where almost 90 percent of the prison's inmates are serving life sentences. The effort was part of Operation Starting Line, a coalition of more than 20 faith-based organizations that, through religion, try to help inmates turn their lives around , the AP reports.
Jazz history is getting some long-overdue recognition in New Orleans, La. The Preservation Resource Center and the New Orleans Jazz Commission launched an ambitious project to designate long-ignored landmarks in the city's music history by placing their first of 100 "jazz house" historic plaques on a home in New Orleans, La. The plaque was placed on the home where Armand J. Piron--the leader of a popular society band, teacher and music publisher--once lived, the AP reports.