Some Brief Thoughts on A Complete Unknown

Disclaimer and Warning: This is brief and in no way comprehensive. There are spoilers ahead.

As my dear friend Roberta wisely observed, it’s impossible for those of us in the Church of Bob to understand the experience of seeing A Complete Unknown for those who are “not like us.” Because I’m not a fan of the biopic genre in general, I was fearful that I wouldn’t be as enamored of the movie as I was with the excitement I felt when I watched the teaser and full-length trailers. I was also anxious that this movie wouldn’t resonate with me as profoundly as I’m Not There (or any of the other Dylan movies) have. However, comparing this movie with other interpretations of Dylan is a fruitless effort. Every interpretation and every reading of Dylan adds additional layers and nuance to our understanding of him. With that disclaimer[1], I share my thoughts on the A Complete Unknown, which I absolutely loved.

There are plenty of folks who have viewed A Complete Unknown as tacticians, trainspotting every historical inaccuracy, some to bury the movie and others to praise it. To be fair, there were quite a few moments in which I found myself fact-checking details of a particular performance, bit of dialogue, or relationship, but I caught myself, so I didn’t ruin the experience. Expecting that level of precision from this compressed narrative steals the absolute joy of witnessing what Mangold, Chalamet, Fanning, Barbaro, Norton, et al have given us, and how our reception of it as audience members continues the discussion on and deepens our understanding of Dylan.

So, that begs the question: What have they given the audience?

Pathos. The tagline to Dylan’s most famous song, the song from which the title is taken, asks “how does it feel?” Using Elijah Wald’s beautiful memoir, Dylan Goes Electric, as source material, Mangold enters the conversation on Dylan by showing audiences how it felt to be Dylan during this period. Reframing a story that the obsessives know well, Mangold takes us into Dylan’s Greenwich Village from his arrival through his ascent to fame, depicting how small the Village and even New York City become for him. Through Chalamet’s virtuosic performance, the shot selection, and the camera movement, the audience feels how choked Dylan is. Spaces feel cramped and he is constantly surrounded by people who want his attention or have something to sell.

In the face of this, the audience follows Chalamet’s Dylan navigating several key relationships as he attempts to find connection. Fulfilling different roles, the supporting cast of characters expand and retract in Dylan’s orbit depending on his immediate needs. This is one of the movie’s greatest strengths: the performances in support of Chalamet’s, none of which are accurately depicted in any of the trailers. Scoot McNairy’s facial expressions carry his scenes with Norton and Chalamet with humor and dignity. Though a late recast, which I found concerning, Norton’s patient, yet exuberant, performance as Pete Seeger was sublime. Elle Fanning’s character, though underdeveloped, underscores the tension between her love for Dylan and her own artistic vision and ambitions. Similarly, Monica Barbaro transcends mere performance into something magical. She is playful, powerful, opportunistic, and inspiring. Once again, Mangold’s direction brings out sublime performances from an entire cast.

Early on, when Fanning’s Sylvie questions Chalamet’s Dylan’s reluctance to discuss his past or the stories he tells about it, he replies that everyone cherry picks the stories they tell about themselves. Here, his reply suggests that Dylan’s approach to identity construction bears little difference to anyone else’s. Through memory and selective storytelling, he protests, everyone creates a patchwork they present to others. This exchange also highlights the intense scrutiny placed on Dylan’s identity construction and the critique that he is inauthentic and perpetually wearing a mask. Everyone does and he is no different. The expectations of him are.

Another equally compelling scene comes after Dylan is punched at a bar and he seeks comfort from Sylvie. At this point, she has moved on from their relationship, but she remains a safe space for Dylan for whom everything is changing. Here, we see again how fame has limited Dylan’s movement in Greenwich Village. While in a club watching Bob Neuwirth play, Dylan is recognized, attempts to escape, and is crowded by fans. His objection to being jostled and obstructed results in the assault. He takes shelter from the chaos on Sylvie’s doorstep. In a moment of vulnerability as Sylvie tends to his bruised eye, Dylan confesses that when people ask how he writes his songs, they are truly asking why they couldn’t. The scene is played beautifully through Chalamet and Fanning’s chemistry and warmth. Shot primarily in tight close-up, the scene’s intimacy depicts Dylan reconciling his pre and post fame selves.

The framing of Dylan’s relationship with Baez centers on adoration, lust, and ambition, first his, then hers. After trauma bonding through the Cuban Missile Crisis, they begin performing together. The shot selection Mangold uses in the scenes with Chalamet and Barbaro signals the status of their relationship. The extreme closeups on them sharing a microphone, so close they barely fit in the frame signal their intimacy and unity. The expressions passed between them and their phrasing of the lyrics reinforces their bond. Conversely, the medium shots, some from behind, show their union in decline. We see and feel the arc of their relationship play out from its origins through Newport 1965 when Baez delightfully flips Dylan off. Their subsequent duet, while shot in tight closeup Chalamet and Barbaro share a microphone, but their barbed phrasing and sharp expressions signal what feels like the end, though its not. When she tells him that he has “won” after he plugs in, his expression suggests otherwise.

Mangold’s focus of Dylan’s friendship with Johnny Cash may be the result of his work on Walk the Line, but it depicts another meaningful connection in Dylan’s early career. To borrow from Historian and Dylan scholar Court Carney, this is a brotherhood more than it is a friendship. Indeed, their fraternity plays out through subtle gestures, phrases, and expressions in Chalamet’s and Boyd Holbrook’s interactions. Letters between Cash and Dylan and their brief scenes in Newport 1965 successfully convey their affection for and trust in one another. Clearly, they share a deep bond different from, but just as important as the other relationships featured in the movie. Not only does Cash admire Dylan, but he provides comic relief with lines like “want a Bugle?” or sly jokes about his mother-in-law. More significantly, Cash encourages Dylan to follow his instincts, taking him away from Seeger and the folk movement.

One of the most interesting conflicts in the movie revolves around Dylan, Woody Guthrie, and Pete Seeger. In this plot throughline, the direction and future of folk music are at stake. Suffering from the effects of Huntington’s Chorea, Guthrie, the previous generation’s folk hero, is the fulcrum between the two acolytes – Seeger, the true believer in the power of folk music as a catalyst for social change, and Dylan, the young genius struggling to understand and harness his creativity. Norton’s earnest Seeger envisions Dylan as the keeper of the folk flame. He befriends Dylan, before ultimately attempting to convince him to carry the mantle through traditional American music.

Early in the movie, Guthrie gifts Dylan a harmonica through Seeger, symbolically passing the torch. In a fictionalized final meeting, Dylan attempts to return it, perhaps trying to reject the idealized folk identity assigned to him. When Woody insists Dylan keep it, their exchange signifies Dylan accepting his role. As the film ends, Dylan and Guthrie are separated by chain link fencing on the hospital window, similar to the fence that separated Dylan and Sylvie at the dock in Newport. Woody watches as Dylan rides off carrying the harmonica and the future of American music with him.

Ultimately, the film succeeds because it shows another side of Bob Dylan. It doesn’t try to pin Dylan down or figure him out. Instead, we feel how isolating his talent and creativity were and how the relationships he forged helped him navigate the earliest iterations of his identity.

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[1] This brief review does not cover the entirety of my thoughts and, more importantly, feelings about this movie. There are aspects, such as the actors’ singing, Chalamet’s mimicking of Dylan’s gestures, and hygiene (specifically his fingernails), that I have omitted.