‘A Complete Unknown’ Channels the Secret of Bob Dylan: He’s Not About ‘What It All Means’

by

The movie ‘A Complete Unknown’ has sparked a deep reflection in both social and mainstream circles. Since its release, conversations about Bob Dylan have been resonating – a shared exploration of his identity, past and present. Interestingly, this isn’t just nostalgia from baby boomers idolizing their icon; instead, it’s a thoughtful examination that even Dylan himself might appreciate, rather than the self-important reminiscing that he would likely disdain.

The ongoing dialogue about Dylan is vibrant and inquisitive, happening here and now. It revolves around the movie, yet transcends it. It’s a collective introspection of those who have watched “A Complete Unknown,” as well as those who grew up with Dylan. Essentially, it’s a reexamination of the question: What made him captivating? What is his enchantment, his grip on us?

The reason we’re still grappling with this question is because the answer remains elusive or hard to grasp. Speaking about musical icons like the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, who are often referred to as the ’60s Music Deities that Revolutionized Everything, their greatness is boundless, yet we can all sense what made them so special. The Beatles didn’t just change the color of the world, but its very essence; there’s little need for an explanation. The Stones have been called “the greatest rock ‘n’ roll band in the world” for decades, and that pretty much sums it up.

Since his debut in 1961, Bob Dylan has been tagged with numerous titles – protest singer, folk artist who embraced electricity – yet these labels fall short of capturing his unique essence and cosmic influence. While it’s true that he was a protest singer and his electric shift made waves, they don’t encapsulate the extraordinary aspect of Dylan. The film “A Complete Unknown” does justice to this magic by transcending those limiting labels, illustrating that Dylan’s beauty lay in something indescribable with words.

The portrayal of Dylan, as played by Timothée Chalamet, is intentionally enigmatic and veiled, uttering witty aphorisms and grumbling cryptic comments. He avoids being pinned down through conversation. When Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), who has developed romantic feelings for him, calls him an “asshole” (Bob), she’s referring to this aspect of his personality – besides brushing her off competitively, he fabricates stories about his past (such as claiming he joined the circus) and denies them, even refusing to acknowledge the truth, leaving not only his lover but also himself in a state of ambiguity. In “A Complete Unknown,” the Dylan we witness is the archetypal aloof, indie-rock jerk from the school of cool. It’s well known that Lou Reed, the most notorious asshole in rock ‘n’ roll history, absorbed a significant amount of this attitude and the essence of Dylan’s swaying-back-and-forth talk-singing style.

If Timothée Chalamet’s character Dylan appeared only as a cryptic figure, one might think he was merely acting the part. However, he is more than just an enigmatic jerk; he also remains a mystery to himself. As an artist, Dylan seems to draw inspiration from his surroundings but refrains from explaining it, even to himself. This maintains the allure of the unknown. In the film, when Bob discusses the impact of Woody Guthrie on him, the implication is that Guthrie’s folk music resonated with this Minnesota boy in a way that transcended words and explanation. The message he received from the music, and the essence he absorbed, was fundamental: not simply “protest” but something more profound, enduring, and eternal—a blueprint for faith.

This connection is evident in our perception of Dylan’s songs within the film: they are manifestations of a powerful spirit that transcend him from being merely an exceptional singer-songwriter to a potent force, a celestial herald. The essence of his music is faith. This is why his decision to go electric puzzles the folk enthusiasts, spearheaded by Pete Seeger. It’s not merely about a preference for acoustic instruments. They champion ideologies: the struggle for social equality. Dylan does…and yet doesn’t. He believes in something more profound and indescribable: the capacity of a song to transport us into a state of awe, to elevate us towards the divine realm.

What’s resonating with me about the current reassessment of Dylan is that it echoes my own personal journey with his music. For a long time, all I knew and learned about him hindered my true appreciation for him. Growing up in the ’70s, I had many of his albums and listened to them faithfully, but there was always this sense of not quite getting it. In essence, I struggled to understand most of his lyrics, which made me feel like a B-grade Dylan enthusiast. What exactly did those rapid-fire words signify? I understood that the “protest singer” label was something he outgrew long ago. But what always puzzled me was how the baby boomers continued to idolize him as a “poet.” To be honest, poetry has never appealed to me; it hasn’t touched me in a meaningful way. And I often felt like most of Dylan’s poetic verses were lost on me.

It wasn’t until I turned thirty that I truly began to appreciate Dylan’s music, and grapple with the intriguing paradox about him: his lyrics often don’t carry much literal significance, yet they do have an impact. They hold importance, but not always in a straightforward way. My favorite Dylan album is “Blood on the Tracks,” and there have been numerous days when I believe the best Dylan song is “Tangled Up in Blue.” I’ve listened to it over a thousand times. However, I can only make sense of about 10% of the lyrics. This song might encapsulate the transition from innocence to counterculture, and depict the story of his marriage to Sara Lownds, but it’s also not about any of those things. The song is more about the emotion it evokes, of witnessing the life you’ve lived unfold while it fades away like a forgotten road. And that emotion is clearly reflected in the sound itself.

As I grew older, I came to appreciate more and more that Bob Dylan’s talent lies primarily in his unique sound. The soft croon of his voice on “Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door” is one example, while the fervent harmonica solo in “Absolutely Sweet Marie” is another. What sets him apart isn’t just singing lyrics; it’s the way he sways, growls, and tenderly caresses them, making them resonate deeply within you, even when their meaning eludes you. When he transitioned to electric music, he created a sound unprecedented in rock history – one that was both sweet and fiery at once. Instead of lifting listeners as Woody Guthrie did, Dylan elevated us in the way that J.S. Bach did. No matter the subject, his songs felt like religious hymns. A storm was coming, but what made it remarkable was that Dylan managed to make that impending doom beautiful.

In simpler terms, Timothée Chalamet brilliantly portrays Bob Dylan in “A Complete Unknown,” showing not just his voice and guitar skills, but also the deep emotions and mysteries behind his lyrics. This film doesn’t top “Sid and Nancy” as the best rock biopic, but it stands out within the genre by immersing viewers into the unique universe that Dylan created through his music. It gives us a sense of being in that space, feeling its energy, until we understand that life itself is electric.

Read More

2025-01-18 23:46