In Partnership with Searchlight Pictures
If you were wondering why James Mangold chose that “like a complete unknown, like a rolling stone” lyric to title his Bob Dylan biopic, it might be because that’s how Dylan literally arrived on the scene in 1961: completely unknown. Just a young guy with a guitar case, a notebook of songs, and a huck finn cap pulled low over a mop of tousled brown hair, searching for his folk idol, Woody Guthrie, as well as something bigger than the small town he’d hitched a ride from.
From the moment Timothée Chalamet steps into frame on the streets of New York City, it’s clear he’s mastered Dylan’s slightly hunched posture and awkward charm with uncanny precision. But his Dylan isn’t just a mimicry of the man, it’s a distillation of his contradictions: the arrogance, the vulnerability, the brilliance, and the aloofness that made him an icon. Chalamet has this way of tipping his chin slightly down, gazing through thick eyelashes directly into the soul of the person he’s talking or singing to. You never quite know exactly what he’s thinking, but that’s the point, and the film doesn’t try to over-explain.
Credit: Searchlight Pictures
In fact, every so often during A Complete Unknown, you find yourself questioning what’s true and what’s embellished. Where, exactly, in the north country did Dylan come from? Did he really run away to a carnival? Was he actually that reluctant to his growing fame? Some would expect a big Hollywood biopic to operate with historical and chronological accuracy, but when the subject is the great, enigmatic Dylan, you can afford to take some creative license. After all, Dylan himself was a master of spinning stories. Over the years, it seems bending the truth has become a natural part of the singer’s creative process. In A Complete Unknown, Mangold doesn’t shy away from any of this: his dishonesty, his selfishness, his stubbornness. “You are so completely full of shit,” Joan Baez, Dylan’s longtime collaborator and lover, says outright to him during one of their many arguments. But ultimately, the film never loses sight of Dylan’s genius and pure, unfiltered talent as the reason why he achieved all he did.
While A Complete Unknown chronicles Dylan’s ascent in the busy four years leading up to his controversial performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival, it’s equally concerned with what fame does to a person. Dylan’s central relationships with girlfriend Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), and mentor Pete Seeger (Edward Norton) become a lens through which Mangold explores themes of ambition, loyalty, and loneliness.
Credit: Searchlight Pictures
Elle Fanning’s Russo is the emotional anchor of the film, her arc tracing the very relatable sacrifices of loving someone as driven and inscrutable as Dylan. As we watch their relationship unfold, it’s clear his obsession with music doesn’t leave much room for her in his world. “Are you God, Bob?” Russo asks at one point, exasperated. “How many times do I have to say this… yes,” he responds, kind of half-joking, half-serious. It leaves you wondering how a man who effortlessly connected with so many thousands of fans struggled to truly connect with those who deeply cared for him.
Dylan’s male relationships are equally significant. His friendship with the legendary Johnny Cash (Boyd Holbrook), Bobby Neuwrith (Will Harrison), and Seeger offer glimpses of vulnerability. As much as the romantic relationships in his life, these men become the ones he turns to, confides in and seeks support as his star rises. Seeger’s eventual disapproval of Dylan’s turn toward electric music feels just as heartbreaking as his relationship breakdown with Russo. Like a father figure, Seeger tries guiding Dylan into making the “right” decisions for his career, and perhaps selfishly, for the folk genre. But Dylan doesn’t want to do what’s right – he wants to do what’s true, new and exciting.
Credit: Searchlight Pictures
Visually, A Complete Unknown is a triumph. The production design immerses you in the early 1960s, from the smoky Greenwich Village bars to the shabby apartments and grand concert halls. Arianne Phillips’ costume design charts Dylan’s transformation through 70 different outfit changes, from his scruffy folk beginnings to his rebellious sunglass-wearing rockstar phase.
But what really makes the film special is the music. Dylan’s personal life is interspersed with live performances that Mangold lets unfold naturally and unhurried. Chalamet’s singing feels unpolished in the best way, and whenever he’s on screen crooning Dylan’s lyrics with a guitar and harmonica you’re immediately drawn in. Some moments are stripped-down and powerful, like when Dylan performs “Song to Woody” by Guthrie’s hospital bedside, or when he tests a duet version of “Blowin’ in the Wind” in bed with Baez. While other moments are intense and energetic, Chalamet’s voice carries across theatres and festival stages as if he were transporting us all back there. By the time the credits roll after Dylan’s infamous electric performance of “Like a Rolling Stone” to a crowd of angry folk fans and even angrier executives, you’re left craving more.
Credit: Searchlight Pictures
If this were fiction, you might assume the main character just blew up his world and relationships with nothing but challenges ahead. But, of course, we know that’s not what happens for Dylan. He goes on to achieve global success with that electric album, becoming the voice of a generation, and is still performing 60 years later. Yet in some ways, even after all the hits and headlines, he’s still that alluring, mysterious guy that first arrived in New York – completely unknown.
See A Complete Unknown in cinemas January 23rd.
