A Complete Unknown is showing in cinemas nationwide from January 17.
Few musicians, even those among the very best, are as idiosyncratic as Bob Dylan. Undeniably one of the greatest songwriters of our times, Dylan is also a bit of an enigma – a free spirit who doesn’t seem to conform to any musical or political rules. In that sense, A Complete Unknown is a fitting title. That mystique is part of Dylan’s lure, as explored in this interesting, if somewhat pedestrian, biopic.
True to his wayfaring nature, A Complete Unknown opens with a 20-year-old Bob Dylan (Timothée Chalamet) riding into New York City in the back of a friend’s car, already writing a song before he has even set foot in the city. One of his first stops is a visit to his idol, Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy), one of folk music’s most significant musicians, who has recently been hospitalised due to Huntington’s Disease. Wanting to show how much Woody’s music meant to him, Dylan performs an original folk song that impresses Guthrie and catches the attention of Guthrie’s friend, fellow folk singer Pete Seeger (Edward Norton).
Recognising his talents, Pete takes Dylan under his wing, introducing him to the folk song crowd, thus giving Bob the musical platform he has always wanted. However, folk songs stick to rigid rules, and Bob is more of an experimentalist, which causes conflict. The film takes us through Dylan’s life in the 60s, detailing his rise to fame, his relationships with fellow folk singer Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro) and artist Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), as well as how his creative ambitions clashed with the people and institutions around him.
The film is partially based on Elijah Wald’s 2015 book “Dylan Goes Electric“, which detailed Dylan’s controversial switch from acoustic guitars, seen as synonymous with folk music, to electric guitars. This switch even inspires much of the film’s crisis point and climax. That Dylan was willing to get creative and embrace this switch is perhaps part of what makes him so appealing. His early songs were popular among the civil rights and countercultural movements precisely because of how they engaged with sociopolitical issues through beautiful lyrics while refusing to be defined by a single label. The greatest strength of A Complete Unknown is its recognition of Dylan as a tour de force in a category of his own. He’s manic, rude and bizarre, but he’s also captivating, daring and a lot sharper than he looks.
James Mangold’s direction reflects those latter traits – spellbound by Dylan’s talent but not going overboard the way the recent musical biopic Better Man frequently did. The camera adopts a panoramic methodology, circling around Dylan as he performs for adoring fans as if the camera itself is enamoured with him. But it also gives him the space to let his lyrics carry the weight of his music, with close-ups utilised to showcase what Dylan’s words mean to those listening. The film’s best scene is a performance of Dylan’s “It Ain’t Me Babe”, where the power of Dylan’s writing is made clear by its effect on Sylvie, who is listening from backstage. In adopting a grainy visual look reminiscent of the 60s period the film is set in, Mangold’s direction creates a sense of peering back in time to see the influence of an enormous talent at their beginning.
Chalamet pulls off a delicate balancing act by performing Dylan at both his best and worst – Dylan’s wayfaring attitude is seen as both a positive and a negative depending on the scene – yet still imbuing him with a singular, all-encompassing charisma. Even when Dylan is at his most insufferable, including dismissing the needs of both Sylvie and Joan in favour of his own, Chalamet lets the character’s passion shine through the laid-back attitude, which at times threatens to come across as indifference. This is a man who loves music for its expressive power, not the fame and fortune that comes to the luckiest musicians.
Other strong performances include McNairy, despite having minimal dialogue, Barbaro, and particularly Fanning. Sylvie is a fictional character but is heavily based on artist Suze Rotolo, who was Dylan’s girlfriend during the time period in which the film is set. Being the partner of someone so talented but, in the film’s context, so self-absorbed is a taxing scenario in itself, and Fanning captures the struggle between admiration, resentment and love beautifully, often with just the looks she gives. If words are Dylan’s weapon, then expression is Sylvie’s. Chalamet will likely be Oscar-nominated, and while he is very good, Fanning delivers the best performance.
Stellar work and impeccable themes on talent, individuality and how tradition can both inspire and restrain creative expression are all in abundance, making the film’s formulaic nature particularly unfortunate. Stories of talent fighting back against the establishments that seek to compartmentalise them have been told for decades, and the film follows the conventional beats to the point of making Pete, an otherwise interesting figure in the folk scene, into a bland, antagonistic purist. That the film only covers a fraction of Dylan’s musical career – with some fans claiming that Dylan’s transition to electric is when he really started to get going – perhaps makes it limited in what it can achieve in regard to portraying its remarkable subject matter. One can appreciate this factor yet still question why the end result had to stick so rigidly to convention, especially given Dylan’s own history of proverbially spitting in convention’s face.
Despite its mechanical structuring, A Complete Unknown succeeds because it recognises what makes Bob Dylan so alluring – his way with words and his refusal to conform. One wishes the film had followed his example narratively, yet with such engaging performances, elegant filmmaking, and refreshing themes, it’s hard not to get engrossed in the film’s homage to its leading man. For Bob Dylan fans, there is plenty to enjoy, and even for others, this film may be like a rolling stone – something that gains momentum with time.
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