With horizontal hatch lines.
… Call me Hi.
A disheveled young man in a gaily colored Hawaiian shirt is launched into frame by someone offscreen.
He holds a printed paddle that reads ‘NO. 1468-6 NOV 29 79.’
...Blackness. A bleak wind moans.
Music cues a cut to a twinkling city scape, seen through falling snow.
After a beat, the voice of an elderly black man:
NarratorThat's right… New York.
We are tracking high through the night sky. From...
...A Whiskey Tumbler
It sits on an oak bar under a glowing green banker’s lamp. Two ice cubes are dropped in. From elsewhere in the room:
ManoffI’m talkin’ about friendship. I’m talkin’ about character. I’m talkin’ about – hell, Leo, I ain’t...
An opening voice-over plays against dissolving Texas landscapes – broad, bare, and lifeless.
The world is full of complainers. But the fact is, nothing comes with a guarantee. I don’t care if you’re the Pope of Rome,...
Yeah, I worked in a barbershop. But I never considered myself a barber …
We track back from a barber’s pole.
… I stumbled into it – well, married into it more precisely …
We track back from a shopkeeper’s bell triggered...
In black, we hear a chain-gang chant, many voices together, spaced around the unison strike of picks against rock. A title bums in:
Sing in me, and through me tell the story
Of that man skilled in all the ways of contending,...
A man in shades.
His sunglasses and the windshield of the car he drives reflect palm trees flashing by on either side. He is well dressed, in his early forties, with a little rat ponytail.
He slows in front of a swank Beverly Hills...
...At the Bar
Pappi Corsicatto, the Greenwich Village-Italian owner of the club, nods Llewyn over. He is broadly smiling.
Pappi Boy, you were some mess last night.
Llewyn Yeah, sorry, Pappi. I’m an asshole.
Pappi Oh I don’t give a shit. It’s...
...White letters on a black screen:
A Serious ManEverything that happens to youRashi
Snowflakes Falling in Black
The flakes drift lazily down toward us. Our angle looks straight up.
Now an angle looking steeply down: the snow falls...
...House at Night
We are looking – through the rain-pelted windshield of a parked car – at a small, Spanish-style bungalow. The rattle of driving rain does not quite cover the sound from inside the house of drunken female laughter...
Save this Search
Send me email alerts whenever new content is added that matches this search.
You will receive email alerts for this search. Use My Content to manage your search alerts.
Are you sure you want to remove the search term from "My Saved Searches"?
This item is only available to the members of institutions that have purchased access. If you belong to such an institution please Log In
Sign in to Your Personal Account
Use your personal account to save 'favourite' commentary, chapters and books. Sign in now