‘How does it feel?
To be without a home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone?‘
James Mangold’s Bob Dylan biopic, A Complete Unknown, seeks to answer this very question through Bob (Timothée Chalamet) himself, introducing us to the nameless vagabond arriving in New York City with nothing but his passion for music and poetry and a will to share his art with the world. The film explores Dylan’s involvement in the Greenwich Village folk scene of the 1960’s, documenting his rise not only to fame, but his emergence as a cultural icon amidst the backdrop of a tumultuous period of American history, and his involuntary ushering-in as the standard bearer for the next generation of folk music prior to his revolutionary, ‘electric’ performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. Chalamet’s Oscar-nominated Dylan is accompanied by Monica Barbaro’s Joan Baez, Edward Norton’s Pete Seeger and Boyd Holbrook’s Johnny Cash, each performing live renditions of a number of classics, from ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ to ‘Folsom Prison Blues’
The release of A Complete Unknown fortunately coincided with a personal phase of obsession with Bob Dylan. I was listening exclusively to Dylan for a period of months until I began to move beyond his music, vigorously digging to the depths of YouTube for any of his clips, voice recordings or interview tapes. For me, Dylan as an identity became as fascinating as his lyrics and music, which I came to perceive as intricate, multi-faceted and complex as each other. This burgeoning captivation was instigated, I believe, on the day I saw Dylan play live in Liverpool, in November 2024. Without my glasses I stumbled into a random seat, too intoxicated to comprehend the (not) complex seating system. I found myself at the very rear of the M&S Bank Arena, three songs into his set, after naively expecting him to start late, which was perhaps an excuse I was using to convince myself to spend ten extra minutes with the childhood friend that I was meeting beforehand.
Now sat comfortably, my squinting eyes searched for the man I came to see. The struggled gaze settled on one outline; one silhouetted figure slouched over the piano, perched below a dim light. I could make out a movement of his mouth, the mouth that must have been the source of the unmistakeable murmur that I was hearing. For the duration of the performance, I found myself rooted to the chair I sat upon, almost in shared awe among those to my side at the sight of such a mythical figure. While I could see him with my own eyes and hear him with my own ears, there was simultaneously a uniquely distinct sensation of distance between Bob and the audience, a feeling that he was more holographic in form than physically manifested before us, an idea that was only compounded upon by the prohibition of phones and cameras and the absence of screens in the arena, rendering it impossible to discern any of his facial features.
In my anecdote, and in the experiences of innumerable peers, fans and writers, this very sense of mysticality, an almost intangible, elusive inaccessibility is one that defines Bob Dylan as a person. This notion is underlined by Dylan’s own editing of the script, in which he purposefully inserted at least one fabricated scene, safeguarding his enigmatic aura. While in one moment Dylan is the incredibly well-documented legend of American folk and rock music, in another he is merely ‘a complete unknown’. A complicated figure, he quite literally contains multitudes, swaying between temperaments, puzzling even his lovers, Joan Baez and Sylvia Russo (Elle Fanning) as to his often-erratic actions. Perhaps Dylan himself had as little understanding of himself as we do, but that is what James Mangold and Jay Cocks (co-writer of the screenplay) are attempting to grasp at. The film is not a simple chronology of his rise to stardom and does not make the mistake of upholding Dylan as the messianic figure many came to interpret him as – a perception he himself sought to challenge. The viewer becomes a ‘fly on the wall’ in moments of private vulnerability, inviting the formation of nuanced and varying opinions of Chalamet’s Dylan, avoiding delivering a pre-packaged, archetypal success story.
The live performances are the beating heart of the film, coalescing with the character-driven sections to construct a balanced insight into Dylan as a gifted performer and songwriter, and flawed human being. Chalamet excels at channelling Dylan’s idiosyncratic croon without deviating into mimicry, while Barbaro’s vocal performance as Baez is truly outstanding, made more impressive by the fact she learned guitar specifically for the role. The climatic performance at Newport has almost imprinted itself into my memory, a white-knuckled culmination that depicts the rebirth and artistic metamorphosis of one of music’s most celebrated icons in extraordinary fashion.
The combination of these elements makes for a viewing experience appropriate for all audiences, offering high quality musical acts and the opportunity for truly compelling character analysis.
A Complete Unknown is released on 4K, Blu Ray and DVD in the UK on 28th April via Searchlight Pictures
Review by Thomas Hill
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