True 2 U, 24/7

As unpleasant as he may be--and he’s very unpleasant--Llewyn Davis has instantly become one of my all-time favorite movie characters. Llewyn is the talented but immensely frustrated folk singer at the center of the latest Coen Brothers’ film, Inside Llewyn Davis. He’s abusive, exploitive, careless, self-centered, and demanding of himself and those around him. In this regard he is like so many of the main characters in those tales of gifted but difficult narcissists we’ve come to recognize over the years, except in one very significant way. In most of those other films—from Van Gogh in Lust for Life through Mozart in Amadeus to Steven Jobs in Jobs-–the frustrations, failures, and friggin’ self-immolating personality—are redeemed by ultimate success…even if that success comes, as in Van Gogh’s case, posthumously. We always come away with confirmation of the myth that it pays to do it your way…to march to the sound of your own drum. It is vital to keep this myth alive because so many who undertake challenging careers--especially in the creative arts--often run up against naysayers, skeptics and buffoons who present considerable obstacles to their success. So they have to be reassured that others who went before them ran up against the same kinds of discouragement and prevailed.
But the opposite is also true…perhaps more true—that many aspiring artists, entrepreneurs, inventors--people attempting to live the impossible dream--don’t always succeed. They get nowhere. And even though another myth of our culture is that talent will out--that the marketplace will eventually reward all who are worthy of reward--the truth is that sometimes talent is not enough. I once heard from an insider that in casting for Star Wars, George Lucas had two sets of actors for the roles of Luke and Han Solo. One pairing was a blonde Luke and a dark-haired Solo, and the other was for a dark-haired Luke and a blond Solo. In the end, as the fickle hand of fate would have it, Lucas went blond Luke, dark-haired Han, and thus the difference between being Harrison Ford collecting 20 million-dollar paydays while the other guy plays Biff Loman in summer stock for actor’s equity turns on hair color, not talent.
Sometimes it’s a matter of making your own breaks. Llewyn Davies tries mightily to make a break for himself, embarking midway through the film on an arduous journey to get himself in front of someone who might be able to help him, but in the end to no avail. No one could have worked harder than Darlene Love to put herself in a position to succeed, yet as the Oscar-winning documentary Twenty Feet from Stardom painfully reveals that did not save her from having to make a living cleaning houses years after her voice had sold enough records to set her up for life, but didn’t.
Sometimes it’s a matter of not taking advantage of the breaks that do come your way. Inside Llewyn Davisends on just such a tantalizing note, as Llewyn’s arrogance leads him to walk away from an opportunity that another artist is able to fully exploit. The irony is that the other artist in this fictional account is supposed to be Bob Dylan, never known as much of a charmer himself. Despite a reputation for finger-pointing songs like "Positively 4th Street," however, Dylan was far more judicious about burning bridges than the Coens’ Llewyn Davis is. People driven like Llewyn Davis don’t ever want to have to utter those immortal words, "I've always depended on the kindness of strangers." But in more cases than not, they must.
The myth of “I did it my way” is as enticing as it is enduring. What egoist wouldn’t want to stand on stage near the end of a career and brashly sing:

For what is a man, what has he got? If not himself, then he has naught To say the things he truly feels and not the words of one who kneels The record shows I took the blows and did it my way!

It’s pure bunk of course, especially in regards to the so-called Chairman of the Board:

The released FBI files reveal some tantalizing insights into Sinatra's lifetime consistency in pursuing and embracing seemingly conflicting affiliations. But Sinatra's alliances had a practical aspect. They were adaptive mechanisms for behavior motivated by self-interest and inner anxieties. In September 1950 Sinatra felt particularly vulnerable. He was in a panic over his moribund career and haunted by the continual speculations and innuendos in circulation regarding his draft status in World War II. Sinatra "was scared, his career had sprung a leak." In a letter dated September 17, 1950, to Clyde Tolson Deputy FBI Director, Sinatra offered to be of service to the FBI as an informer. An excerpted passage from a memo in FBI files states that Sinatra "feels he can be of help as a result of going anywhere the Bureau desires and contacting any people from whom he might be able to obtain information. Sinatra feels as a result of his publicity he can operate without suspicion ... he is willing to go the whole way."

What’s so bracing and memorable about the Llewyn Davis character is that it exposes in excruciating detail what happens to someone who really does do it his way…abusing the kindness of strangers and refusing to compromise. It’s a timely cautionary tale...especially as Internet distance and anonymity encourage more and more ordinary people to take on airs of the artist and grab for the cheap catharsis of shouting, “Fuck you!” at the world.