Bob Dylan might have been too “humble” to actually show up to the ceremony that foolishly chose to honor him for the Nobel Prize in Literature back in 2016, but he’s made up for it tenfold by succumbing to the ego-boosting project that is A Complete Unknown. And not just ego-boosting for Dylan, either. Obviously, it’s done wonders for Timothée Chalamet’s self-perception as well (though, surely, the same can’t be said for his decision to enter the Kardashian-Jenner cabal). After all, it gave him the chance to alter his physical appearance by—gasp!—growing out his hair and fingernails. This being, it would seem, enough of an “aesthetic transformation” to warrant the Oscar nom bestowed upon Chalamet for this role.
Well, that and the fact that Dylan himself has sanctioned this project—perhaps the most telltale sign yet of his increasing senility. Because, honestly, this can’t be the same Dylan who has always been, quite literally, too cool for school—except that time he was bamboozled into participating in “We Are the World.” But apart from that one major “getting involved” faux pas, Dylan’s whole “thing” in life is to not be a joiner. To shirk such cliches as a Hollywood biopic, which is very much what James Mangold’s A Complete Unknown is.
In contrast to more experimental attempts (namely, Todd Haynes’ 2007 film, I’m Not There) at rehashing Dylan’s story, the script, which Mangold co-wrote with Jay Cocks (more known for his collaborations with Martin Scorsese than anyone else—though, strangely, that didn’t apply to 2005’s No Direction Home), is extremely straightforward. “Paint by the numbers,” if you will. This also, in part, because it’s based on Elijah Wald’s 2015 book, Dylan Goes Electric! Newport, Seeger, Dylan and the Night That Split the Sixties. A tale that, while yes, is certainly fascinating and important for showcasing one of the first times that the music industry tried to pigeonhole one of its best-loved performers permanently into a single genre, doesn’t quite allow much room for other aspects of exploration re: Bob Dylan the Man. Indeed, it is always Bob Dylan the Musician who gets the most emphasis in anything pertaining to a filmic depiction. Because, in a climate like today’s, putting the microscope too closely over Dylan’s behavior toward women doesn’t make him come across in a manner quite as “charming” or “misunderstood.” For there is no misunderstanding of what the British would call a “wanker” is.
But Mangold and Cocks (speaking of wanking) are too blinded by Dylan the Persona, Dylan the Icon to really go all in about his fundamentally assholish nature. Except for a passing line delivered by Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro, also nominated for an Oscar thanks to this movie), during which she says, “You’re kind of an asshole.” Said in such a way as to indicate, “…but I like it/am turned on by it, and it’s going to keep me on your hook for years.” So no, there’s not much in the way of a “hard look” at who Dylan is/was as a person. The type of man who can be surly, abusive (yes, verbal abuse very much counts) and “mercurial”—all descriptions that tend to be rebranded as “brilliant,” “gifted” or “genius” when applied to a male. Tenfold to a male musician. It’s why two of the primary women who became synonymous with Dylan’s early career were so willing to put up with him, n’est-ce pas? Because, theoretically, who doesn’t want to be with someone “great”? Someone “important.”
At first, that seems to be what “Sylvie Russo” (Elle Fanning, snubbed for her own acting efforts by the Academy)—read: Suze Rotolo—wants. For, clearly, she can see something volcanic in Dylan when she encounters him at a folk concert held inside Riverside Church (or at least that’s where it was held in real life when the star-crossed lovers met). It’s why the two immediately start hanging out, going to see a movie on their first unofficial date (the movie in question? Now, Voyager starring Bette Davis—a nod to both Dylan’s love of [truly] classic movies and the reinvention he undergoes to become Himself).
It’s also why Dylan ends up crashing-turned-living with Russo (one of many plot points that are glossed over/manipulated/conflated to suit the needs of the Hollywoodized narrative). Her early support and influence on Dylan is, of course, somewhat downplayed compared to what it was in real life, but such is the way of biopics about men that are, what else, written and directed by men. And, apart from Lana Del Rey, perhaps no one could present Dylan through such a favorable lens as a male fanboy (of which most men—who aren’t of the frat variety—happen to be). To be sure, Dylan is practically elevated to the level of “savior” by the end, with Mangold and Cocks presenting this period as his “Jesus in the desert” years, so to speak. Although, in contrast to Jesus, Dylan has no issue allowing himself to be tempted. Giving in entirely to the intoxicating (literally) prospect of leaning fully into his asshole personality as he transcends into a bona fide famous person, with the “rock star” image to match—even if the music he makes doesn’t quite align with that aesthetic just yet.
Needless to say, it’s a favored approach to focus solely on this segment of Dylan’s life, with most filmmakers uninterested in exploring other phases of the “bard’s” career, or even the part of his personal life that found him as a “family man” (of sorts). Because to attempt more than exploring “the meat” of his existence would, apparently, be biting off more than anyone could chew. And, evidently, it would have also been too much for Mangold and Cocks to “pack in” the part of 1965 where Dylan “allegedly” had a dalliance with Edie Sedgwick, who has often been cited as a clear inspiration for “Like A Rolling Stone.”
No Direction Home, on the other hand, at least makes a loose reference to it by including footage of Dylan visiting Andy Warhol’s famed Factory to engage in one of his equally famed screen tests. In point of fact, Sedgwick was convinced that she would star in a movie with Dylan, which might at last help bring her some “legitimacy” in the film world. As Factory Girl emphasized, that never happened. It also emphasized, as few movies about or featuring Dylan do, that he was a self-righteous prick.
Of course, at the time that film came out (at the end of December 2006), Dylan had already tried to block its release/take legal action over his portrayal, prompting the filmmakers to change the name of the “folk singer” to “Billy Quinn” (sort of like changing Suze Rotolo’s to Sylvie Russo). While some would posit the Dylan wanted to stop the release because the part about his presence in Sedgwick’s life was a fabrication, others might posit that it rang too true for Dylan to want it out in the world. The same went for Lou Reed, who said of the movie at the time, “I read that script. It’s one of the most disgusting, foul things I’ve seen—by any illiterate retard—in a long time. There’s no limit to how low some people will go to write something to make money.”
In some ways, the same could be said of A Complete Unknown, which continues the tradition of canonizing Dylan as a messiah-like figure whose wrongs were all ultimately right if the music he put out was the result. Someone too “pure” of heart and intention to do any real harm or damage. Even though that’s precisely what he did to those who dared to attempt “infiltrating” his personal life. Rotolo included. In truth, the pain of Dylan’s sting lasted her long enough to wait on ever publicly discussing their relationship until 2004. A year later, she even appeared as one of the many talking heads in No Direction Home (a film that, like A Complete Unknown, also takes its title from Dylan’s most well-known single, “Like A Rolling Stone”).
However, rather than coming across as the pained “victim” (which is more how Joan B. presents herself in said doc), Rotolo is matter-of-fact with regard to Dylan and the way he was treated when he “went electric,” informing viewers, “People were expecting him to give the same thing over and over again…in a precise manner, in a precise theory, in a precise way—and it got creepy. Because why should you have to push yourself into a tunnel that isn’t yours? I mean, you’re driving along and all these roads are apparent. Why do you have to take that tunnel?” Funnily enough, women in music are expected to constantly reinvent themselves (at least physically if not sonically) in order to remain “relevant” to listeners. Whereas, with Dylan, everyone was clamoring for him to stay perennially “the same.”
As A Complete Unknown dramatizes, there was no way in hell he was going to do that. Instead, he defied the expectations that had become an albatross around his neck. As for the not-so-warm audience reaction at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, Dylan stated in No Direction Home, “I had no idea why they were booing. I don’t think anybody was there…having a negative response to the songs though.” Not appearing to realize how out of touch with reality that sounds, Dylan added, “Whatever it was about, it wasn’t about anything that they were hearing.” But of course it was. And while some might have been reacting to the “too loud” sound of the band’s instruments, others were definitely reacting to Dylan shifting away from folk in favor of so-called rock music, which was seen by folk musicians as the ultimate form of selling out. Making Dylan, in their eyes, a total hypocrite. But then, wasn’t he already kind of that as a result of never actually attending any protests (à la Joan Baez—who brings up this form of hypocrisy in No Direction Home)? Opting only to sing about the upheaval and chaos around him rather than show up at a demonstration and risk being “labeled.” Heaven forbid.
Avoiding labels was a large part of the reason for his pivot away from the full-on folk sound. And toward the end of A Complete Unknown, Baez is sure to tell Dylan that he “won.” He could finally be free of all of them. Free to be an unmitigated asshole that no biopic would ever examine too closely. Preferring to exhibit the “arcane” persona that Dylan has cultivated from the very beginning of his career. As for Dylan asserting in No Direction Home, “I was always an outsider… They were trying to make me an insider,” by kowtowing to this biopic, he is once again on the inside of the Establishment. Topped off by the Academy’s recognition of the movie.
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