A Complete Unknown

Bob Dylan is one of those titanic names I've heard all my life, but never been too familiar with. As a kid, I tended to avoid any music outside my comfort zone. When that stubbornness subsided, I just never took the time to go back and discover his magic. Accordingly, I know little about his personal life or history in the industry or the specifics of his influence. He was just that folksy singer with the super distinct voice. So, as with a couple other biopics this year, I was open to discovering what director James Mangold felt was important to convey about the man.

However, Mangold wasn't interested in that side of the story. I appreciate the boldness of that: a biopic which isn't as concerned with the person as their impact. It even makes a certain amount of sense. In the grand scheme of things, what does it matter who they were¹ or how they felt or why they did what they did? That will eventually be lost to history, and all that will remain is their impact. The way Dylan burst onto the scene, introduced folk to a new generation, and became its voice, eventually going on to win a Pulitzer for his poetic lyrics. The way he went his own way, unafraid to piss off his fans, which ultimately further endeared him to them.

Which leaves the story feeling fairly cold and unengaging. It reads as a series of "And then" segments, rendering the story aimless throughout its first half as we power walk through Dylan's arrival in NYC and rise in the folk scene over the next four years. Portrayed by Timothée Chalamet, we watch him arrive in the city and meet Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy) and Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), begin an on again off again romance with Sylvie (Elle Fanning) and a more contentious one with Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), all while he's trying to find his place within the music industry and turning heads despite its constraints. By limiting the story to five years of Dylan's life, with 1965 taking up roughly the final half of the film, the film avoids the common biopic problem of sprinting through major life events in pseudo-montage. But its collection of scenes still manage to feel surface level at best, showing us snapshots of what's happening with no deeper interrogation and limited feeling. For example, on multiple occasions people in Dylan's life tell him he's an asshole, but Mangold seems to have no interest in that besides letting you know that he knows.

The most egregiously harmed depiction is his relationship with Sylvie. Each phase of their romance is a whirlwind that leaves us uncertain where things stand. There's no build, no time for us to get to know how they relate to each other or feel whether they even make sense as a couple. We see him and Joan fall into bed almost as soon as Sylvie leaves town for the weekend, seemingly signalling where his affections lie (or at least his head). But despite many indications Sylvie knows something happened, and despite the huge fight they had just before she left in which he essentially told her "You'll never know me, so stop trying, and it's pissing me off that you care", they reunite like nothing happened. Until we see Sylvie glaring wordlessly at Joan from off-stage. Then acting like nothing is happening. To be fair to the script, some of that is simply that Elle Fanning is not a skilled enough actor to convey the subtext you'd want in that scene. Then again, Chalamet is, and there's not enough in his performance to grasp what's going on either. And given that the seesaw continues throughout the film, it's never really clarified.

The other major problem is how formless and directionless the story feels until we get to 1965. It reads as a man at war inside, simultaneously needing to express himself through his music while rejecting the celebrity that comes with it. There are a few stray disparaging comments about rock 'n' roll from Seeger, and a couple more noncommittal ones from Dylan, as well as his clear discomfort with fame creating expectations and boxing him in. We see him starting to play around with electric instruments, garnering a couple comments about how people won't like it. But a symptom of the movie's restlessness and unsettled nature is that it doesn't land with any greater heft than any other plot beat or character development.

It's not until the lead up to that year's Newport Folk Festival that we see trouble start to stir. Which is a little bizarre, as the importance and prominence of that festival had not been effectively communicated previously. We know folk music is important to Seeger, and he mentions having started the festival, as well as that folk music is experiencing a resurgence. However, nothing about that festival or how it's discussed or portrayed implies the happenings there are all that important. Which blunts the power of the groundswell of opposition and anxiety that flies about in the lead up. Reading about the history and influence after leaving the screening, it appears the discord was even downplayed in the film, making its awkward landing seem all the more like a self-inflicted wound. The result is a film that feels slight, with not all that much to say, and not all that much to draw you in.

Well, save for the music.

This is a Dylan biopic, and what would that be without hearing his compositions? Of course, it's Chalamet doing the singing, but given how good his performance is, it's hard to care. The vast majority of the time, Dylan's distinctive voice emerges very naturally from the actor's mouth, and this extends to his musical performances. No, you'll never mistake him for the real Dylan - how could you? - but it's good enough that when combined with the verve from all involved, you could almost forget. Which is especially good, because you'll be hearing a lot of it. It almost feels like Mangold wanted to make a Dylan musical with how much of the runtime is occupied with performances which play out nearly in full. Which comes off as insecure, as if the director is using it as a shiny crutch with which to distract you from his middling script.

I came away knowing barely anything more about the man, which usually isn't the best sign. It did pique my curiosity about the events portrayed, which indicates they at least chose the basis for their story well. But it also means it failed to satisfy, fumbling its handling of the elements it sought to explore. In some ways, that's fitting: Dylan's myth looms large in American culture, greatly overshadowing his personal life and hiding it from view, just as he would want. In doing so, it fails one of the key questions any biopic must navigate: why not just make a documentary?

I couldn't tell you.