LONDON CITY NIGHTS: folk

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

'Inside Llewyn Davis' (2013) directed by Joel & Ethan Coen

Wednesday, January 15, 2014 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

Inside Llewyn Davis is the story of a folk music Sisyphus. Swaddled in corduroy, guitar strapped to his back he pushes a boulder up a mountain, inch by painful inch. When he reaches the top the boulder rolls right back down to the bottom and the whole process begins again. The Coens have always had an eye for splicing mythology with contemporary stories; The Odyssey in O Brother Where Art Thou, or The Book of Job in A Serious Man - here they place a typically Coenesque hero within an inescapable trap of culture, time and space.

Llewyn Davis (Oscar Isaac) is a perpetually failing, sofa-surfing bum, though an admittedly obviously talented bum. Greenwich Village, New York in 1961 has its own set of myths, though here we see the flip side of the coin: fatigue, poverty and the icy cold - framed through an omnipresent fug of cigarette smoke. Like the best Coen protagonists, Llewyn is portrayed as the one clear-eyed figure in a world gone mad, a man who's become the butt of a cosmic joke, having to deal with a gallery of grotesques; the mine of 'funny-lookin' character actors that only Coens appear to be able to tap.

The bright spot in all the misery is a tabby cat, one of the few creatures in this frozen urban landscape to offer even a smidge of unconditional kindness to Llewyn (and even then it escapes at the earliest opportunity). Aside from the troubles caused by this disobedient cat, Inside Llewyn Davis ditches any semblance of driving narrative early on in the film. Llewyn bumbles from sofa to sofa, tossed by chance from one situation to the next, trying his best to cope with whatever miseries the universe has decided to buffet him with today.

Even the cat is a good actor.

This lack of a clear narrative isn't a criticism, the subject and setting of the film reverberates around the hazy structure of the story. Llewyn sings wistful, melancholy songs about characters who are hungry, poor, cold and far from home. The wry punchline is that Llewyn is essentially living a folk song and hating every moment of it. The episodic structure of Inside Llewyn Davis, miniature stories as verses punctuated by choruses of musical numbers thus becomes a loose folk song itself.

The Coens obviously have a soft spot and high artistic regard for folk music, yet they're never afraid to poke fun at its subject matter. Folk music is, by design, a static genre. Musicians dressed in outfits that no-one would bat an eye at in 1911, 1961 or 2011, sitting on stools, pluck away at beaten-up acoustic guitars, playing the songs written by long dead and anonymous people. This lack of change isn't necessarily a bad thing, but a consequence is that it sets in stone the 'true' folk experience and mindset; an examples in the film is Llewyn's disgust at his friends treating music as a career that'll lead to a comfortable life in the suburbs, or outside the film the vitriol spewed at Dylan when he dared to go electric.

In Llewyn's misery the Coens pinpoint the paradox of folk: success equals failure. If you're a rich, popular musician touring to sold-out arenas, staying in plush hotels while singing about the melancholy of being broke and riding the rails then you're a hypocrite. Conversely, if you're playing to empty bars with nothing to your name except the clothes on your back and an acoustic guitar, tumbling through a freefall life with no parachute then you may be hungry, cold and deeply miserable but dammit, at least you're authentic .

This is an classically Coenesque, farcical situation, the film going to great lengths to convey this futile problem of trying really hard to be a success, but in that success losing what made you succeed in the first place. This psychic torment is written on the face of Oscar Isaac, whose deadpan, increasingly pissed off and sleep-deprived stare speaks volumes as to his state of mind. Isaac is a great here, and not being a big name I wondered just where the hell he came from to pull out a performance this complete. I assumed he was new to the screen, so was surprised to learn I've seen him quite a bit, most notably as ex-con Standard in Drive, where he again shares a screen with Carey Mulligan - proof of a chameleonic acting ability that can only bode well for his future in cinema.

Freewheelin' turns out to be less fun than it looks.

The rest of the cast fits snugly into their roles as only the Coens (and perhaps Tarantino) can accomplish. One of the best arrows in the Coens directorial quiver is the ability to cast the perfect actor in the role, be it A-listers like Justin Timberlake as a more pop-minded folk musician who seems destined for financial success or character actors like Sylvia Kauders, who's great as a faintly absent-minded receptionist. Perhaps the most oddly touching performance is also the most restrained. Stan Carp plays Llewyn's apparently catatonic father, who does literally nothing other than looking wistfully out of a window and slightly changing his facial expression, yet manages to instil this most minute of movements with impossible sadness.

I suspect Inside Llewyn Davis is going to divide audiences. If you prefer a traditionally structured story with a beginning, middle and end you're going to be disappointed. This is essentially all middle, or, to be reductive, 'just a bunch of stuff that happens'. But what beautifully written, performed and intelligent stuff! Even if you're turned off by the loosely structured narrative it's difficult to imagine not being seduced by the great soundtrack, which ranges ranging from the heartfelt to the dopey. This is a dreamily smart watch, quietly brave watch, and one that slots neatly into the Coen's impressively consistent filmography.

★★★★

Inside Llewyn Davis is on general release from 24 January

Sunday, February 3, 2013

'Woody Sez: The Life and Music of Woody Guthrie' at Fairfield Halls, 2nd February 2013

Sunday, February 3, 2013 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

When does the past become myth? While it's easy to relate to life in say, the 1960s, events further back become blurred, a sense of how things really were becomes difficult to grasp. Out of this historical fog strides Woody Guthrie, carrying a guitar immortally emblazoned "THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS". Though he died in 1967 he's a man of the 30s and 40s, a man of the Great Depression, the Dust Bowl, discrimination against 'Okies' and vicious attacks on unionised labour. He's very much a man of his time, a hitchhiking troubadour with an acoustic guitar and a head full of songs to lift the spirits of desperate migrant workers. I think Steve Earle described Woody Guthrie best:

"He was the living embodiment of everything a people's revolution is supposed to be about: that working people have dignity, intelligence and value above and beyond the market's demand for their labour"

'Woody Sez' is a biography of Woody Guthrie, telling the man's life story using his songs. I was a little curious when I heard about this musical, Woody's humble style doesn't seem to lend itself to a stage production. There's zero bombast and a total lack of ego in his songs, and I had vague nightmares of jazzed up chorus lines singing along to 'This Land is Your Land'. Thankfully there's none of that here, this is a stripped down show, austere in its staging and intelligent in design.

Woody's story is told by four outstanding performers, as skilled in acting as they are musically talented. David M. Lutken plays Woody, and Ruth Clarke-Irons, Helen J Russell and William Wolfe Hogan play various characters in Woody's life. As I entered the theatre, the four were sitting relaxed at the front of the stage, chatting with the audience and playing instrumental Woody Guthrie songs. This breaks down the barriers between the cast and audience right away, allowing us to view the myriad characters we meet as familiar friends. Furthering this demolition of the barrier between performers and audience is the total lack of any amplification from the stage. Everything is played acoustically, with no microphones.

It's a shock to the system at first. I'm accustomed to concerts and plays blaring music as loud as is legally permissible, initially everything seems quiet and muted. Very quickly you become attuned to it, and I was surprised how effective simply hearing the music directly from the guitar or singer was in creating authenticity. A lack of electrification makes sense for multiple reasons, firstly and most obviously because it's period appropriate. It also gently prods the audience into shutting up and paying attention to the music rather than chatting to each other. But most importantly, and what this tactic adds up to is a definite connection of the life and philosophy of Woody Guthrie to a modern audience.

Before the financial crash of 2008 'Woody Sez' may have felt slightly quaint. The fire in songs like 'Jolly Banker' and 'I Ain't Got No Home' can never go out, but still, they speak of a battle long since passed. But now, as global capitalism convulses these words regain the immediacy they had when Woody sang them in the 30s and 40s. Woody Guthrie's condemnation of the victimisation of the poor rings as clear as bell in a country where the government is doubling down on austerity. Seeing a show like this is a useful reminder that the rich blaming the poor for the poverty inflicted upon them is not a new thing. Bankers and politicians gamble the livelihoods and dignity of the working class away just as easily now as they did in the 30s and 40s.

All of these performers are fantastic musicians, and all get their individual chances to shine. Considering that pretty much all the songs are led by an acoustic guitar, the sound never gets samey. A huge variety of period accurate instruments are played, from a banjo and double bass, to dulcimers and even,enjoyably, the spoons! Even though the songs can be musically similar, the varied arrangements stop any boredom setting in.

David M. Lutken's Woody is an immediately likeable character. Woody Guthrie is known primarily through his music rather than in a physical sense, a fact that gives Lutken a broad canvas to work on. You never feel like he's doing an impression or imitation, it's more that he's embodying a certain optimistic, kind spirit. Throughout the course of the show, we go from light-hearted comedy moments to some pretty pitch-black depressing stuff. Woody Guthrie didn't have the cheeriest of lives and time and time again a member of his family will burn to death. If proof were needed that the cast has the audience in the palm of their hand it's the hushed silence when Lutken falls to his knees in grief upon hearing the death of his daughter.

If I have to head down to Croydon for a show then it'd better something pretty damn amazing. I'm pleased to say 'Woody Sez' was well worth the trip. It's a modest show, friendly and welcoming, but one with an unbending sense of social justice. Here we see Woody Guthrie mythologised as a Tom Joad figure, nobly fighting for the little guy, epitomising artistic resistance against exploitative ideology. This is cleverly balanced with a portrait of a normal, flawed man who makes mistakes, suffers and loves his way through a difficult life. 'Woody Sez' is an outstandingly well-performed and politically subversive show, one that underlines the relevance of a man whose poetic soul we should all hope to emulate.

'Woody Sez' is playing at:

4 February - Buxton Opera House, Buxton

5 - 6 February - Sheffield Crucible, Sheffield

7 - 9 February - The Lowry, Salford Quays

11 - 13 February - Harrogate Theatre, Harrogate

14 - 16 February - Theatre Royal, Wakefield

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

'Hannah Cohen supported by Leif Vollebekk' at Bush Hall, 4th September 2012

Tuesday, September 4, 2012 - by londoncitynights · - 0 Comments

On paper Hannah Cohen sounds remarkably easy to dismiss. I didn't know much about her before this concert, and what I found out from her Wikipedia page didn't exactly fill me with hope. Lines like: "Hannah left home as a teenager to work as a model, soon finding herself in New York and becoming over the next few years something of a muse to the city's art scene." do not exactly fill me with confidence. The history of models turned musicians is not exactly a consistent story of success. Then again, maybe I shouldn't be so quick to judge; consider Nico, Grace Jones and Agyness Deyn.

I'd never been to Bush Hall before, and it was a pleasant surprise how nice it was. I noted that the ticket said that the concert was seated, so I figured it'd be an auditorium of some kind. The room was a large and ornate ex-ballroom with tables and seats dotted around the front. This ballroom setting, coupled with the tabled seating made the whole affair infinitely classier than the grimy sweatboxes I usually go to. The contemplative atmosphere was so pervasive that I think the musicians were unsure as to whether we were actually enjoying ourselves at all; save for applause everyone was quiet as a mouse during both sets. But then this was a night of chilled out acoustic music, you're not going to be getting up and moshing here.

Leif Vollebeck

Supporting Cohen was Leif Vollebekk, a singer/songwriter from Montreal, Canada. First impressions are very Dylanesque, he's wearing blue jeans, a white shirt, a harmonica holder and playing an acoustic guitar. Even though his songs are folky and relaxed Vollebeck is an incredibly animated performer, twisting his body and face around the microphone and guitar as he sings. His songs are mainly stripped down, heartfelt acoustic numbers. This 'wear your heart on your sleeve' attitude works very well on stage, we are left in no doubt of his sincerity and the personal nature of his lyrics. As he sings he contorts his face into various passionate (and occasionally pretty weird lookin') expressions, his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.

Midway through the set I realised, he reminded me a hell of a lot of Jeff Buckley. The same kinds of swooping vocals and unselfconscious lyrical flourishes pepper his music. This sort of thing only really works if the audience gets the impression that it's spontaneous, but it's hard to imagine Vollebekk is faking any of this. A highlight of his set was 'Don't Go to Klaksvik', a song which for me summarises the dreamy, heartfelt nature of his music.

Aside from his music, Vollebeck seems like a nice and friendly, although slightly nervous guy. He broke a string at the end of his first song, and repeatedly apologised to the audience as he fixed it. We responded with a sea of blank and silent faces, which seemed to unnerve him slightly, he doublechecked if we were having a good time. I felt a bit guilty for this, but then, as I said, the way they'd laid Bush Hall out seemed to encourage quiet appreciation. Silent though I remained, I thought his performance was great, occasionally reaching a the kind of lovely crescendo that sends shivers down your back.

Hannah Cohen and Josh Kaufman

So, to the main event. Pretty much as soon as Hannah Cohen took the stage all of my misgivings completely melted away. She's modest, friendly and seems genuinely happy to be on stage. With her hair flowing over her shoulders and a white flowing dress she looks innocent and somewhat virginal. The dress in particular emphasises a certain kind of vulnerability by making it look like she's about to undergo some kind of baptism.

Damn you grey haired man.

An emotional and physical vulnerability fills her music. The majority of the songs are gossamer-light, ephemeral stuff, with the centrepiece always Cohen's voice. She sings in a soft, emotional croon, and it initially seems maybe too understated, but upon listening to the wistful lyrics of heartbreak and misery it seems somehow appropriate. All of her songs seem fairly similar, and although occasionally there is an electronic backing track she never strays too far from the same sombre feel. This lack of variety could be a point of criticism, but Cohen is so good at what she does that it becomes irrelevant. As the concert goes on, her presence on stage becomes ever more magnetic, effortlessly holding our attention with her dreamy, hypnotic music.

Accompanying her on stage is Josh Kaufman, a beardy and unkempt looking guy who's a nice contrast to her purity and minimalism. He plays backing guitar and other instruments on most songs. Initially I assumed that as Cohen is apparently relatively recently self taught on guitar that he'd be picking up a lot of the complicated musical slack. Happily their on-stage partnership seems to be that of equals. I never for a moment felt like he was compensating for any faults of hers.

It was a wonderful performance, and I've been successfully converted into a fan of Hannah Cohen. The only criticism I can possibly make is a reflection on myself; watching someone who left home to become a successful model, who then became a published photographer in her own right before dabbling in music and eventually building herself up into a musician this good makes ME feel like I need to work harder in life and achieve more.

I can only hope that Cohen sticks with music, watching her in a fairly sparsely populated and obscure room in Shepherd's Bush feels like the kind of opportunity that will soon be impossible if she becomes more successful. A wonderful night, and two absolutely lovely performances.

LONDON CITY NIGHTS