Inside Llewyn Davis (2013)

"You don't want to go anywhere, and that's why the same shit's going to keep happening to you, because you want it to."

The Coen Brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) is one of their most melancholic and subtly intricate films. A portrait of failure disguised as a folk music drama, it follows the titular character, played masterfully by Oscar Isaac, through a week of struggle, rejection, and self-inflicted wounds in the Greenwich Village folk scene of the early 1960s.

At its core, Inside Llewyn Davis is a film about circularity—about a man trapped in his own cycle of despair and self-destruction. Unlike many of the Coens’ other protagonists, Llewyn is neither a victim of absurd cosmic justice (A Serious Man) nor of fate’s cruel irony (No Country for Old Men). Instead, he is his own worst enemy. He’s not untalented, nor is he without opportunities. But he continually sabotages himself, whether through pride, stubbornness, or an inability to connect. It is a character study of a man undone by his own arrogance. He is a man who believes the world owes him success because of his talent, but he repeatedly undermines himself through pride, entitlement, and a refusal to learn from his mistakes.

Llewyn doesn’t just fail to seize opportunities; he actively rejects them. He insults people who could help him, refuses to compromise even slightly, and treats success as something that should be handed to him rather than earned. This isn’t just a matter of artistic integrity—it’s self-sabotage. His journey is not one of tragic misfortune but of repeated hubris leading to self-inflicted wounds.

The Curse of Entitlement

Proverbs 16:18—"Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall."

Llewyn’s arrogance is clearest in his disdain for the commercial side of music. He sneers at the prospect of being a session musician or playing novelty songs, even though those are the kinds of gigs that could keep him afloat. When he is offered a shot at working with the famed Bud Grossman, he plays a deeply melancholic, esoteric song—refusing to even consider something more accessible. Grossman’s response? “I don’t see a lot of money here.” Llewyn storms off, offended, but the truth is, he was given a fair chance—he just couldn’t stomach the idea of playing by anyone else’s rules.

Llewyn’s career doesn’t collapse because of injustice or misfortune. It collapses because of his own inability to accept that talent alone is not enough.

Similarly, his entitlement bleeds into his personal life. He treats Jean (Carey Mulligan) with contempt, even though she has been one of the few people willing to help him. His lack of gratitude, and his refusal to take responsibility for the consequences of his actions, drive people away.

Rejecting Work, Rejecting Growth

One of the most telling moments in the film is when Llewyn has the opportunity to rejoin the merchant marines. It’s an easy out, a chance to gain stability, but he dismisses it. This is more than a career choice—it’s a symbolic rejection of hard work. Llewyn wants success, but he wants it on his terms. He refuses to do the less glamorous, less artistically fulfilling jobs that could sustain him. 2 Thessalonians 3:10—"The one who is unwilling to work shall not eat." Llewyn's pride keeps him from doing what is necessary to survive. He sees compromise as selling out, but in reality, it is simply part of life.

Moral Blindness: The Folly of Self-Perceived Genius

Proverbs 12:15—"The way of fools seems right to them, but the wise listen to advice."

Llewyn never listens. He never reflects. And so, he never changes. Llewyn believes he is always right—about music, about people, about his own life. His dismissive attitude toward others comes from his certainty that he is smarter, more talented, and more insightful. Yet, over and over, his arrogance blinds him to the truth.

This is most clearly seen in his encounter with the professor’s wife. After crashing at her home, he lashes out, assuming she is trying to lecture him. He curses her out, only to realize, too late, that she was trying to return his lost cat. It’s a perfect encapsulation of Llewyn’s flaw: he reacts out of arrogance before seeing the full picture.

The Meaning of the Cat

One of the film’s most debated symbols is the ginger cat that Llewyn carries with him for much of the movie. The Coens love to use animals as symbols (The Ballad of Buster Scruggs’ horse, No Country for Old Men’s cattle gun), and this one is no different. Some see the cat as representing Llewyn’s soul—a thing that escapes him, that he loses, finds, and loses again. Others see it as a marker of fate. The cat’s name, Ulysses, may be the most telling clue: like Odysseus, Llewyn is on a long journey home, but unlike the hero of Homer’s epic, he never seems to reach it.

Moral and Existential Apathy

Romans 12:2—"Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind."

Llewyn resists change at every turn, holding onto his bitterness and pride rather than seeking transformation. Unlike O Brother, Where Art Thou?, another Coen film loosely inspired by The Odyssey, there is no redemption for Llewyn. He drifts from one misfortune to another, never learning, never growing. The film’s ending drives this home in a haunting way. The story loops back to its opening scene, where Llewyn is beaten in an alley after heckling a performer at the Gaslight Café. The implication is clear: he is stuck in a cycle of his own making. His life is not a linear journey of struggle leading to eventual success or failure—it is an endless repetition of self-inflicted wounds. The film is a perfect loop, as if he is doomed to relive his own failures endlessly.

This stands in stark contrast to Christian teachings on grace and transformation. Llewyn has no capacity for repentance, no humility. His journey is all pain and no revelation, making his story deeply tragic from a biblical perspective.

Final Thoughts

Romans 1:22—"Although they claimed to be wise, they became fools."

Llewyn believes he understands how the world works, but he is blind to his own role in his downfall.

Inside Llewyn Davis is a meditation on failure, fate, and artistic struggle. It offers no clear resolution, only a haunting sense of déjà vu. In many ways, it is the inverse of O Brother, Where Art Thou? Instead of a joyful redemption arc, we get a protagonist who remains lost, circling in a purgatory of his own making. The film challenges the audience to ask: What keeps us from breaking free from our cycles? And what does it take to truly find home?