Words by JANE CROWTHER
Bob Dylan has purposefully been an enigma for decades and James Mangold’s traditional biopic of a small window of his life doesn’t try to answer any questions about the troubadour – rather it unpicks the ambient influence swirling around the 19 year-old when he arrives in New York from Minnesota and takes the folk scene by storm. Kicking off in 1961, Mangold tracks Dylan from his beginnings through to stardom and up to the point when he ‘betrays’ folk music by plugging in an electric guitar at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. The director admits that not everything in the film happened exactly as depicted (and apparently Dylan himself asked for a completely invented scene to be added to further fox audiences), but the result is an accomplished primer for newcomers to Dylan and an account that won’t irritate diehard fans.
Bob (Timothée Chalamet) first pitches up in NY in search of his hero, Woody Guthrie. Discovering the musician is critically ill in hospital, the wannabe visits him – the first time in many that Dylan puts his needs ahead of others. Woody (Scoot McNairy) is being cared for by the nicest man in folk, Pete Seeger (Edward Norton, emanating kindness) who takes the young songwriter under his wing. Dylan, still a gangly youth, impresses him as well as established folk star, Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), setting him off on a meteoric rise to fame, prolific record making and a love triangle with Baez and Sylvie (Elle Fanning playing a thinly disguised version of Suze Rotolo). As Bob writes – and cheats and is selfish to the point that Baez tells him he’s an asshole – the world changes and informs his music; the desperation of the Cuban missile crisis, the freedom rides, Martin Luther King… The times, they are a-changing.
Chalamet had five years to perfect guitar, harmonica and Dylan’s scratchy vocals and his renditions of the classics are both spot-on and still retain an element of himself within them. As Dylan’s hair gets bigger and his jeans skinnier (via evocative costumes by Hollywood Authentic columnist, Arianne Phillips), Chalamet and Dylan infuse so that by the time he’s riding motorbikes around and behaving with the insouciance of a rock star brat, the transformation is entirely convincing. Similarly, Barbaro nails Baez’s sweet voice and zero BS attitude and Boyd Holbrook threatens to steal the show every time he shows up as sozzled man in black, Johnny Cash.
The highlight of the film is undoubtedly the ‘going electric’ moment at the ‘65 Newport Festival when, having watched Dylan do exactly as he pleases throughout his interactions, there’s a rebellious thrill in watching him purposefully plug into an amp in front of a horrified audience of acoustic fans. Once again, we’re not treated to any interior motivation to Dylan’s actions, ensuring he’s still a delicious enigma – a man who despite the biopic treatment, remains a riddle – as the title suggests, a complete unknown.
Words by JANE CROWTHER
A Complete Unknown is in cinemas now
