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Starring David Oyelowo
Starring Meryl Streep, Emily Blunt, and Anna Kendrick
Starring Christoph Waltz and Amy Adams
Human connections are few and due to the very nature of the story it can start to become a plodding slog, but things pick up every time Adam Driver, who plays awkward National Geographic photographer Rick Smolan, arrives to heat things up. To secure the financing needed to make the trip, Davidson agreed to meet up with Smolan so he could document her progress in photos. The images he would shoot would become a global sensation, drawing exactly the kind of attention Davidson didn't want. She didn't much care for Smolan's presence, either, but the two get closer and he becomes a reliable connection to the outside world she was so anxious to leave. It's the continuation of Driver broadening range as a passionate leading man, something he rarely has a chance to show wallowing on HBO's Girls. But this film belongs to Wasikowska, and she excels through what must have been a grueling production. One of the reasons Tracks has taken so long to get made was Davidson's insistence it be an Australian production through and through, and Wasikowska's tough, determined performance makes the wait worth it. It's hard to imagine how this would have looked if Julia Roberts played Davidson as was the original plan. 
There's a little bit and a lot going on in the film. There are a lot of characters, and a little bit of development for each of them. This is expected of a film with this many people, but at least the focus is on one character, that of Bateman's down-and-out, but all around nice guy. Everything else just spins, but in an orbit around him. There are snippets here and there of other characters having their own moments, either for us to get to understand them better, or for them to understand each other better, but they usually happen around Bateman. 
You know Radcliffe has truly moved on from Harry Potter when he's placed in the position of romantic lead, but he makes a convincing lovelorn hopeful as Wallace, who is still anguishing over a two-year-old break up from his cheating girlfriend. A med school dropout living in Toronto, he isn't exactly in a positive state-of-mind when he meets Chantry (Kazan) at a party thrown by his best friend Allan (Adam Driver) who couldn't be more different from him. Wallace and Chantry on the other hand hit if off immediately, finishing one another's sentences and having the same weird sense of humor. It's obvious right away these two are meant to be together. We know it, Wallace knows it, but Chantry reveals she has a boyfriend at the end of a near-perfect walk home. 
So that puts poor Wallace in the "friend zone" where he doesn't want to be, so he does the rational thing and rips up her phone number. He doesn't want to be a friend; nor does he want to be the guy lurking in the background trying to break-up her relationship with nice-guy Ben (Rafe Spall). But when the two meet, ironically at a screening of The Princess Bride (nod to Rob Reiner, one of many), they just can't help themselves and decide to be best buds even though we know Wallace wants more.
Where the film gets interesting and reaches beyond formula, just a little, is in the small details of Wallace and Chantry's predicament. He believes any relationship that begins in a less than honorable fashion is doomed for failure. But as Allan's trouble-making girlfriend Nicole (Mackenzie Davis) says, "Love is dirty. Sometimes it's downright filthy". Chantry and Ben have a home together; they've been a couple for five years. Can Wallace really keep his feelings in check? Should he? And what about her? How long can she bury what is an obvious connection to Wallace? As they grow closer and time passes, it only becomes harder to be completely honest when honesty is what is called for.
Radcliffe has made some interesting career turns but starring in a film such as this is more challenging than one might think, especially for an actor many have lofty expectations in. The same kind of applies to Kazan, an indie darling comfortable in higher concept genre films like The Pretty One and Ruby Sparks. Chemistry is a tough thing to quantify but Kazan and Radcliffe definitely have it. The whole supporting cast turns in strong efforts with Driver and Davis (who was excellent in Drake Doremus' Breathe In) especially good as misguided but well-meaning matchmakers. 
There's also something deeply personal the Coens seem to be trying to say, about the improbability of finding success as an entertainer while holding on to one's integrity. No doubt it's something they contended with back in their early days, not so much anymore, and now this is them reflecting on that period of uncertainty a little bit. Llewyn is a talented guy, a musician both in love with his craft but in contempt of the business. Or lack of business in his case, as he's basically penniless and bouncing from one friend's couch to the next for a bite to eat and a quick sleep. He was successful once as part of a duo, until his partner threw himself off a bridge. His new album isn't selling, he's stuck playing in the same cheap cafe a few nights a week basically as a favor, and he can't even take care of a friend's cat without screwing that up.
Speaking of screwing up, there's also the issue of the perpetually-frowning Jean (Carey Mulligan), the wife of his best friend Jim (Justin Timberlake). She never seems happy when Llewyn is around and for very good reason: she's pregnant, and the child is possibly his. "Everything you touch turns to shit. Like King Midas’ idiot brother.” she scolds him, one of many times she'll rip him a new one. He's concerned, but not really, he really just needs to get a winter coat before the cold snap. For every new door that opens, such as a recording gig with Jim, another door seems to slam shut in his face, literally in one case.
Inside Llewyn Davis has the barest plot of any Coen Brothers film, and that's really saying something. It meanders along aimlessly, much like Llewyn himself, and we can't help but become enamored with his daily grind. The film starts off hysterical as Llewyn bumbles from one ridiculous thing after another, always puzzled over how things keep going south. While he's well-meaning enough, he's totally self-centered and seemingly unaware of it despite others (mainly Jean) making it obvious. What he's got is passion and ability, but not that extra something that pushes others into superstardom. 1961 was an important year for folk music, as it was a time just before Bob Dylan and others would arrive and revolutionize the sound in a way Llewyn wouldn't understand until it was too late. 
For that matter there's a sense of inevitable failure that permeates the film, bleak even by Coen standards, and the whole thing turns into one long dour affair, just as Llewyn hitches a ride to Chicago to plead a club manager for a gig. Along for the ride is Coen Brothers favorite John Goodman as a cantankerous jazz man, and Garrett Hedlund as his hip, silent valet. It's an odd interlude, their journey, too far off the beaten path to connect with Llewyn's story and yet not witty enough to maintain interest. 
What makes the film work as much as it does are two things: Oscar Isaac and the soulful soundtrack, with the two forming a near perfect synthesis of sight and sound. He captures Llewyn's passion and desperation in equal measure, especially in the film's melancholic opening track, "Hang Me Oh Hang Me". More peppy tunes occasionally break up the Coens' brooding and add some much needed humor, such as the central song "Dear Mr. Kennedy", a rollicking anti-war number featuring a hilarious, booming turn by Adam Driver. It's the fourth time the Coens and T. Bone Burnett have collaborated musically and each time gets better than the last. 
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