A Complete Unkown

 

My oldest daughter, Little One, now age 20, has been a Bob Dylan fan for quite a while. She has a hippie streak, music-wise, liking a lot of 60s and 70s folksy stuff, such as the Byrds, the Mamas and the Papas, Buffalo Springfield, Gordon Lightfoot, Joan Baez, and such. She ranges to more popular stuff of that era, such as the Beatles, the Kinks, early Rolling Stones, and Neil Young. And, as a disclaimer, she plugged into current era stuff too, of which I’m blissfully ignorant.

 

Anyway, she’s been wanting to see the Bob Dylan movie A Complete Unknown since she first heard of it sometime last year. Unfortunately, none of her friends are into it. I bought her a Dylan biography for her birthday back in September (the “definitive” one, naturally), and got her a Dylan 2025 wall calendar for Christmas. So I was the one who had to step up to the plate – wanted to, actually, for her – and took her to the local cineplex to see it.

 

What did I think? Especially now, since it’s been nominated for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Supporting Actor, Best Supporting Actress, Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Costume Design, and Best Sound. Whew. It’s almost like Dylan was transgender. I can honestly say the flick should definitely win in one category, and maybe three others.

 

Caveat: I am not a Bob Dylan fan. I’ve heard the half-dozen radio-friendly songs over the years, and I’ve listened to two albums at Little One’s behest (his debut 1962 album and 1966’s Blonde on Blonde). I have never been impressed and just don’t understand it. I may respect it (and honestly I’m not really sure if I do or not), but I can only shake my head.

 

With that in mind, I didn’t like the movie. I didn’t hate it, either. I kinda enjoyed it, as a piece of archaeology of a forgotten era. The movie roughly covers the years 1962-65, when Dylan makes his first impression among the New York folk circuit to when he wreaked havoc by “going electric” and betrayed the faith at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. From that perspective, I found it informative. Hagiographic, yes, almost to a fault. I had to chuckle inwardly every time a character on screen attained glowing nirvana on his or her first listen to Bob’s warbly voice and plucking and strumming.

 

Timothy Chalamet earned the Best Actor nomination. He becomes Bob Dylan, is Bob Dylan, and I remembered Val Kilmer’s portrayal of Jim Morrison way back in the 1991 Doors movie. His singing and guitar playing is admirable and quite the carbon copy. He portrays Dylan as kind of a jerk, which I guess is his real personality, as Little One told me Dylan had script approval. He treats everyone as a pawn in his holy quest to attain whatever it is he is trying to attain. Pure artistry, I guess. But he pretty much comes across as a narcissistic user of folks (last word used intentionally).

 

The other two Oscar categories it may win would be Best Costume Design and Best Sound. Watching the flick you feel transported to the 60s. Everyone is year-appropriate-grubby. And the sound is pretty damn good, I must admit, everything from Dylan’s solo singing and guitar playing in a cabin to him on stage with his “electric” band.

 

The only performance I feel deserves the Academy Award win is Best Supporting Actor. Edward Norton becomes Pete Seeger. Watching Chalamet as Dylan, I knew I was watching an extremely talented mime. But with Norton it was a complete disappearance into a role. Now, I don’t know Pete Seeger other than as a footnote in the history of contemporary American music, and I seem to recall mainstream America regarded him as a proto-Communist back in the day. But Norton becomes Seeger so completely that I didn’t even realize it was him (Norton) until halfway through the movie. He almost steals the show. Despite my antipathy to the historical character, I enjoyed him immensely every time he was onscreen (and I am aware he was portrayed in the most saintly, humanizing way possible).

 

Funny anecdote: On the way home I mentioned to Little One my enjoyment of Norton’s Pete Seeger character, with this disclaimer: “I am not a violent man. But if I was locked in a room with Pete Seeger and his banjo, I’d end up beating him to death with that damn banjo after four hours, tops.”

 

I’d give the movie a B-minus for the average man, and a solid A for Dylan fans. It kept my attention for two hours and fifteen minutes, but I would not watch it again. It was a one-time labor of love to my daughter, who’ll gladly watch any crazy science fiction movie I’m into anytime and anywhere.

 

There’s one small scene I think about often. 21-year-old Dylan is quietly walking through a park, eating an apple, going through his mail. There’s a letter from the record company. He opens it, and inside is a check written out to BOB DYLAN for $10,000. (About $100,000 in today’s money). He acknowledges it silently and without emotion and tucks it in his pocket. And that’s that. Even if it never happened, can you imagine how freeing it must be to be totally divorced from the concept of money, of earning it, of paying bills, paying down debt, of buying stuff, of security against tomorrow’s trials? I can’t, and that’s a peace of mind I would give almost anything to have.