As a music historian who’s spent a good chunk of my life immersed in the folk and rock scenes, I can say with conviction that “Going Electric” offers a compelling and nuanced portrayal of the pivotal moment when Bob Dylan plugged in at Newport ’65. The film captures the tension between tradition and innovation, the struggle for artistic freedom, and the complex relationships within the music community – all from a perspective that resonates deeply with my own experiences.
“Asking ‘How does it feel?’ can help gauge a movie, but if you’ve watched the Bob Dylan biopic, ‘A Complete Unknown,’ that premiered on Christmas Day, you might have found yourself humming ‘How true is it?’ to the melody of ‘Like a Rolling Stone.’
As a true fan, I must confess that James Mangold’s film, “A Complete Unknown,” masterfully blends reality and fiction in a captivating narrative. The director cleverly compresses timelines, combines separate events, invents character names on occasion, and weaves moments of pure imagination and artistic license into the storyline. If you’re the type who prefers to savor the movie experience without worrying too much about historical accuracy, then this film is certainly for you. However, for those intrigued by the film’s alignment with known facts, I sought guidance from several Dylan experts to help unravel the web of reality and fiction.
In our analysis, we relied on three key perspectives: Elijah Wald, author of “Dylan Goes Electric! Newport, Seeger, Dylan, and the Night That Split the Sixties”, who wrote extensively about this topic and has a movie based on his book. Despite having some reservations about the film’s deviations from his original work, he highly appreciates it. We also consulted David Browne, author of “Talkin’ Greenwich Village: The Heady Rise and Slow Fall of America’s Bohemian Music Capitol”, who shares a positive view of the movie, albeit acknowledging its brief portrayal of the folk scene. Lastly, we engaged with Ian Grant, a Dylan enthusiast who co-hosts two podcasts dedicated to Dylan’s work, one of which, “Jokermen,” recently delved into the film’s authenticity, expressing admiration for it while pointing out an issue that particularly bothered him.
More recently, Mangold shared with EbMaster that the movie isn’t a simple summary like a Wikipedia entry, and he didn’t feel bound to a factual documentary-style accuracy – however, he emphasized that their script (co-written with Jay Cocks) was also grounded in Wald’s book and other historical resources. Furthermore, Mangold mentioned that extensive personal conversations with Dylan significantly influenced his portrayal. The film has received praise from many who have been close to Dylan throughout the years. Kevin Odegard, a guitarist on “Blood on the Tracks,” expressed, “We enjoyed every moment… Critics who nitpick the creative use of combined characters and condensed historical details are like the dogs that caught the car. They overlook the emotional impact of James Mangold’s moving cinematic depiction.” Similarly, Ronee Blakley, a veteran of the Rolling Thunder Revue tour, wrote, “I am pleased to see Bob portrayed so carefully, as his legacy continues to inspire today just as it did then. His magic and greatness shine through, and we catch a glimpse of the cost behind it. Timothée Chalamet deserves an award, as does the film.
In this piece, we’ll address some intriguing queries that may arise from watching the movie, along with their compelling responses.
Was it at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 that someone shouted “Judas” at Bob Dylan, to which he retorted, “I don’t think so… you’re just lying”?
No… not there. But as most hardcore Dylan fans will know, that exact exchange with the audience did happen a year later, at a 1966 U.K. gig in Manchester that was widely distributed as a bootleg and eventually officially released. So Mangold has combined two incidents in which at least some of the audience was rebelling against Dylan transforming himself into a rock ‘n’ roller. Podcaster Grant, who has a few other problems with the film, doesn’t think this conflation counts as one. “Ultimately, that’s just sort of nerdy fan trivia-type stuff, so I don’t really think that has a fundamental impact one way or another on the quality of the movie,” he says.
Is the portrayal of Dylan’s performance at Newport in 1965 historically accurate, particularly focusing on the audience’s response, including the boos?
According to Browne, “If any moment in music history was destined for a biopic scene, it’s Dylan plugging in at Newport – from Pete Seeger and his ax to the audience reactions when Dylan reappeared on stage with ‘It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue’. As for the crowd, I felt the film did a commendable job capturing the chaos at Newport, though some of the crowd shots seemed overly dramatic.
In his book “Dylan Goes Electric”, Wald provides extensive details about that significant day, using first-hand testimonies, many of which present varying perspectives. As he notes, there were approximately 17,000 people present. Given the crowd size, it’s likely that some individuals heard boos, cheers, a mix of both, or even confusion, as these are all plausible recollections from different parts of such a large gathering.
The difficulty in reaching a precise account of the audience’s response, he points out, lies in the fact that during the electric performance, the microphones were significantly reduced due to the high stage volume, thus no recording exists capturing the live audience reaction. However, critic Robert Shelton was present, reporting for the New York Times, and he jotted down his observations in a notebook following ‘Maggie’s Farm.’ In his notes, he recorded instances of booing from the crowd, which he wrote as events were unfolding, not as a recollection. Unfortunately, none of this was recorded on tape. It wasn’t until the band left the stage and Peter Yarrow attempted to calm the audience that the microphones were turned back on, at which point you can hear the crowd shouting for Dylan to return. There were also shouts for Pete Seeger to reappear, requests for Dylan to bring an acoustic guitar, calls for silence from some attendees, and overall, a chaotic and confusing scene.
Wald remarks, “One instance that illustrates this is a friend of mine who vividly recalls his intense admiration for Dylan’s electric performance at Newport, as well as his strong disapproval, demonstrated by crossing out Dylan’s picture inside his guitar case. Many people felt the same way: they were initially disappointed but soon grew fond of the electric style.
A challenging aspect in narrating this tale: Before the controversial electric performance on Sunday, Dylan had previously given an acoustic performance at the festival on Saturday. This event, however, left some attendees displeased as they expected Dylan to perform his new electric material and were disappointed that he was performing acoustically instead. “During his acoustic set on Saturday afternoon, you can hear the audience (on tape) – there are many people shouting for him to play ‘Like a Rolling Stone,’ because that was the hit song dominating the radio at the time. There were numerous individuals who had come to Newport solely to see Bob Dylan, the friend of the Beatles, perform ‘Like a Rolling Stone,’ and they were quite vocal about their dissatisfaction with the other acts. Some of the audience members during his afternoon set were even shouting at the musicians on the banjo stage to be quiet so they could hear Bob Dylan better. This tension already existed at the festival before he took the stage the following night.
Was it truly Pete Seeger’s intention to chop the wires with an ax, as Dylan was causing dissatisfaction among some attendees with his electric performance?
In the movie, a subtle reference is made to this legend when Seeger (played by Edward Norton) merely looks at an ax without actually touching it. According to Wald’s assessment, the way they portrayed the ax scene in the film was remarkably clever, although his book refutes the notion that Seger ever intended to pick one up.
Eventually, Seeger admitted that if he had a cutting tool, he would have severed the sound cable – a statement which was fictional. To clarify, the “ax” reference was merely due to Peter Yarrow saying (into the microphone for the audience) “He’s gone to get his ax,” when Dylan actually went to retrieve a guitar for his solo acoustic encore performance that festival producers were eagerly requesting. Some spectators misunderstood Yarrow’s “ax” comment, assuming he was talking about Seeger and a real axe.
Indeed, Wald’s observation rings true in that instant: “I appreciate how they depict Toshi as the one who soothes him, just as their daughter described – Pete was agitated, attempting to halt the commotion, and Toshi intervened with a calming ‘Let’s take it easy.’
Were Dylan and Johnny Cash devoted pen pals?
Absolutely correct! “Wald stated that the scenes featuring people exchanging letters in the airplane were directly quoted from their actual letters. He even included some of them in his book. As EbMaster mentioned during its coverage of the Bob Dylan Museum’s opening in Tulsa, original handwritten fan letters they exchanged are displayed for visitors to view closely.
Was it Cash, under the influence, who encouraged Dylan to perform a rock ‘n’ roll concert at Newport ’65, given Dylan’s wish to do so?
Indeed, the portrayed gathering of unconventional thinkers in this scripted scenario is purely fictitious. Cash was absent from Newport in 1965; however, he had made a memorable appearance there the year prior. As for the authenticity of their interaction in the parking lot reflecting the essence of their relationship… well, that’s open to interpretation.
According to Wald, there are parts of the portrayal of Cash that seem excessive, while others feel authentic. He believes they’ve taken the goofiness of Cash a bit too far. For instance, it’s unlikely that Cash was wrecking cars at Newport, and if he had, he would have shown more remorse. While Cash was indeed reckless, he wasn’t destructive in that specific manner, especially not during his performance at Newport, which held great significance for him. Cash was trying to make a good impression there because he wanted to break into the college market up north. At Newport, artists only earned $50, so Cash was losing money by performing there. However, he saw the potential in this audience and was recording ‘The Ballad of Ira Hayes’ from Broadside Magazine, which is one of the ironic aspects of this situation – people often perceive him as being outside the folk scene, but he was actually trying to fit in and gain recognition within it. However, this movie isn’t about Johnny Cash; Mangold already made that film (Walk the Line).
What fictitious moment in the film did Dylan invent and request James Mangold to incorporate into the script?
The answer to that is completely unknown; Mangold is keeping that as a secret he holds close to his vest. But Wald is willing to hazard a hunch. “There’s this story that we’ve all heard that Dylan suggested that they add a completely fictitious scene, and nobody’s saying what it was. If I had to guess, I would guess it was the ‘Now, Voyager’ (recurring motif), just because it’s the only thing in that movie that I can easily imagine Dylan coming up with and can’t imagine someone else inventing as a part of his story.” The Dylan character and the one based on real-life girlfriend Suze Rotolo go see a revival movie early in their courtship, then reenact a moment from it in a bittersweet farewell at the climax of this film. “Because Dylan is an old movie fan, I can imagine him imagining acting out the Bette Davis/Paul Henreid scene from ‘Now, Voyager’,” Wald supposes. “It seems so unlikely to me that someone else would come up with that. When I see that, I go, ‘That’s cute.’ Did it happen? I have no idea.”
Instead of starting from scratch, let’s revisit the initial stages: Did the movie present an authentic depiction of Dylan’s early days in New York and his swift integration into the folk music scene? Also, how truthful were the brief characterizations of those musicians active on that scene around 1961?
In his new book “Talkin’ Greenwich Village,” Browne meticulously documents the vibrant folk scene of that era. However, he expresses a certain dismay that the movie glosses over this critical period and its influential figures. “Given my extensive research into Dylan’s contemporaries in Greenwich Village and my interactions with many who are still alive,” Browne states, “it was surprising to see so few of these individuals portrayed in the film.” He questions, “Where are Phil Ochs, Tom Paxton, Len Chandler, Carolyn Hester, and Terri Thal, Dylan’s first manager? It seems that Dave Van Ronk, a significant figure even then and someone Dylan admired, appears only in two brief scenes and is not properly identified.” Browne acknowledges that it’s impossible to include everyone in a movie like this, but he believes a lack of more characters leaves us with an incomplete understanding of Dylan’s disruptive influence in the Village, extending beyond just the national impact. He suggests that Dylan’s relationship with Ochs could have provided some compelling scenes, as their dynamic embodied the debates about topical vs. personal, acoustic vs. electric music during that time.
Apart from his book “Dylan Goes Electric!”, Wald also authored a biography of Dave Van Ronk. Interestingly, Wald isn’t concerned that this significant singer isn’t explicitly mentioned by name in the film or acknowledged in the credits, instead he appears to be absent. “Van Ronk is almost non-existent in the movie, and I’m perfectly fine with that,” Wald states. “Neuwirth, on the other hand, has a more prominent role, which I believe is portrayed quite well.
Grant found it surprising to encounter well-known figures as soon as he set foot in the city. Upon entering his very first building, none other than Dave Van Ronk approached him and started a conversation. Just two hours later, he was already in New Jersey, having met both Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger – all within six hours of arriving in New York. This quick succession of events made Grant raise an eyebrow, even though he knew that some liberties would have to be taken with reality for the sake of dramatic effect in the arts.
Did Dylan’s first performances galvanize audiences from the get-go?
In the film, it’s suggested that Dylan was highly successful during his early performances. However, Browne’s “Talkin’ Greenwich Village” book reveals a different story. According to this account, Dylan could be awkward and out of place at times, but he also had moments where he was confident and in control. The co-manager of the Gaslight even described him as initially disastrous, while a Daily News reporter said that only one person might have clapped for him after his performance. It’s important to note that Shelton, Albert Grossman, Joan Baez, and others were never all in the same room together on the same night as portrayed in the film.
Reflecting on conversations with eyewitnesses and personal accounts from those who have since moved on, I was struck by how startling Dylan’s voice, guitar play, and early repertoire were to many in Greenwich Village back then. Unlike the formal folk singers who had preceded him in the ’40s and ’50s, he brought a raw, rock ‘n’ roll energy to those small stages with his unique phrasing, humor, and vigor. This rough edge attracted some while repelling others, yet this dynamic tension is not fully captured in the film. It wasn’t an immediate infatuation for everyone.
Back in the day, I found myself truly captivated when reading Robert Shelton’s review of a performer in the New York Times. He declared this individual was brimming with talent, and my admiration grew even more after witnessing his second performance at Folk City. This praise, as it turned out, had a profound impact on the artist’s career.
Was it during their initial meeting that he insulted Joan Baez on stage, after pursuing her at a New York City folk club?
That’s invented. In fact, Baez wasn’t hanging around New York at all. “Joan did not like New York. She was from Cambridge, which as a group considered themselves the purists and the New York people to be running after the money. Joan was the prime example of that, turning down Columbia Records and Albert Grossman and staying in Cambridge and then going off to Carmel, California. Bobby Neuwirth was also Cambridge, not New York. But you have to simplify stuff like that, and I think it was a good choice for the movie.”
How about the portrayal of Joan Baez in general?
Wald was incredibly impressed by Monica Barbaro’s singing, stating that her performance surpassed his initial expectations. He had assumed a skilled actor could convincingly portray Bob Dylan singing, given that Dylan’s style is primarily about phrasing. However, acting like Joan Baez, who is known for her powerful vocals as an instrument, proved to be more challenging. In Barbaro’s case, while she doesn’t perfectly mimic Joan Baez’s voice, Wald found her rendition to be exceptional and pleasing to the ear.
According to Grant, he believes the film presents her character in a reasonable and appealing manner compared to how Joan Didion depicted Joan Baez. He admits that Didion’s portrayal of Baez was harsh and unfair in many instances. However, he thinks the character is fairly drawn and seems more genuine and human than Suze Rotolo or Sylvie Russo as portrayed in the movie. Grant also appreciates how a 1964 Halloween exchange between Dylan and Baez on stage at a New York Philharmonic show was depicted. He finds their almost-argument an entertaining scene, and he thinks it’s well-crafted. Moreover, he considers the dynamic between them one of the movie’s best aspects, and he believes the relationship between Dylan and Joan is one of the highlights of that performance, which features one of Bob Dylan’s great early solo acoustic performances before his switch to electric music the following year.
How about the Sylvie character, who everyone agrees to assume is meant to be Suze Rotolo?
According to Wald, “They significantly altered Suze’s character and fictionalized her quite a bit. I had feared they would merely portray her as the ordinary girl next door whom he left for the enigmatic Joan, instead of the political conscience who inspired his political music. However, I was delighted that they depicted her as active in CORE and involved in political events with Dylan. Furthermore, I was happy that she was the one to leave him, rather than the other way around.
According to Grant, the film suggests that she was instrumental in introducing Bob to political songwriting as she involved him in numerous student actions, rallies, and meetings she had been attending prior to his arrival. While the movie hints at this, he believes she is largely overshadowed or becomes insignificant by the end of the film.
Was there a love triangle involving Dylan, Baez, and Suze Rotolo that was ongoing when the 1965 Newport Folk Festival took place?
It’s unclear in the movie why Dylan decides to ride Rotolo to the festival on his motorcycle and later watches them emotionally connect, hinting at potential lingering feelings or a complex dynamic. Regardless, Rotolo didn’t go to the festival and their romantic relationship had ended by that point. The same goes for Baez, although they continued to perform together. The relationship dynamics among these three characters, often referred to as a “triangle,” serve more as symbolism for two contrasting aspects of Dylan’s life that he is moving away from, while also emphasizing his artistic transformations.
Is there any potential major character that’s left out completely?
It’s quite intriguing that you brought this up. Both Grant and Richard Brody, a critic for The New Yorker, have pointed out a notable oversight in the film – the absence of Sara Lownds, who was on the verge of becoming Sara Dylan. By 1965, at the time of the Newport festival, Lownds and Dylan had already been romantically involved since 1964 and had even taken a long trip together. They got married only a few months later, but the film fails to acknowledge her presence.
Grant states that Bob Dylan doesn’t exist in the depicted reality. Joan Baez and Suze, or Sylvie, symbolize two contrasting ways of life, often conflicting in the narrative. Although Dylan shows signs of identifying with both, he concludes neither is as significant to him as his pursuit of inspiration. However, it’s important to note that Dylan does find a suitable romantic partner who supports his creative endeavors and contributes to a fulfilling family life, Sara being one such example. The film presents an incomplete picture of Dylan’s relationships, focusing on his early treatment of people and the gritty aspects of his personality, but ignoring the substantial transformation he undergoes over time. This portrayal seems misleading at best, perhaps even inaccurate, about Dylan’s relationships throughout his life.
In simpler terms, Grant suggests that the character Suze in the image symbolizes an ordinary, everyday lifestyle contrasting with famous artists like Bob Dylan or Joan Baez. Despite being involved in student movements and painting, she is considered a ‘normal person’. However, Dylan’s grandeur and brilliance made him unsuitable for someone like Suze, though he eventually married someone similar.
The reason why Dylan’s then-romantic partner and future wife doesn’t appear in the closing scenes of the film might be due to the fact that a romantic ‘quadrangle’ was considered too complex for the scriptwriters. Another possibility, as Grant suggests, is that Dylan wanted to keep his former wife out of things because she chose to live privately and not discuss their relationship publicly. This was evident even in her memoir published before her death, though Dylan insisted on fictionalizing her character in the film. However, it’s important to note that the Dylan/Lownds relationship was indeed dramatized, although anonymously, in the Heath Ledger segment of Todd Haynes’ 2007 “I’m Not There” movie.
In a less sensational manner… How truthful are certain behind-the-scenes scenes depicted in the movie, such as whether Al Kooper really played the organ part for “Like a Rolling Stone” on impulse, given that he was not an expert organ player?
In the process of recording “Like a Rolling Stone,” there are instances that could be seen as subtle nods for Dylan enthusiasts. For example, Al Kooper, a musician, shows up at the studio, claims to be the guitarist, but is told they already have one. Instead, he decides to play the organ, contributing what would later become an iconic part, despite being uncomfortable with the instrument. While it’s accurate to say that this occurred, it didn’t happen as quickly as portrayed in the film, and the band had taken several takes before those famous notes were played.
In contrast, it’s not accurately depicted in the film that Kooper was the one who bought the police whistle featured on the “Highway 61 Revisited” album. Instead, the movie portrays Dylan as independently finding and purchasing the whistle from a street vendor.
Reflecting on my return to Newport ’65, I’ve often pondered if there was indeed a physical altercation between my manager, Albert Grossman, and the renowned folk music figure, Alan Lomax.
Yes, while it wasn’t specifically related to Dylan’s act, Wald is fine with the alteration in timing for the fight scene. He’s actually quite content with the overall depiction of Lomax on stage.
Alan Lomax, according to Wald, was not anti-electricity as most people believe. In fact, he might have been the first folklorist to record a band using an electric guitar in the 1940s. Contrary to popular belief, Lomax admired rock ‘n’ roll and it was not the loud electric music of the Paul Butterfield Band that upset him at Newport. Instead, he was disappointed that the first electric band invited to Newport was a group of white college students when he had previously discovered Muddy Waters. The movie portrays Lomax complaining about them being a fake white band, but this was not entirely accurate; he was still trying to work with them. Despite this, many people will likely watch the film and continue to believe that Lomax disliked electricity because that is the prevailing myth. However, his conflict with Grossman was real, but it had nothing to do with Dylan.
Wald points out, “What’s intriguing about Lomax is, Lomax didn’t value Dylan more as an acoustic artist than as an electric one. He appreciated folk music because he saw it as the music of the common people, and he believed acts like Dylan and the New Lost City Ramblers, and Dave Van Ronk, were not genuine – this wasn’t about electric versus acoustic… which, to be clear, the film accurately portrayed, but not in a way that most viewers would notice. I also believe that scene where he loses his temper and Peter Yarrow walks out during a board meeting never occurred. It may not be factual, but it does reflect the personalities involved.
Did Dylan really sit in on an episode of Pete Seeger’s TV show with the host and a blues player?
No — that scene is fictional, and so is the character name of the bluesman, although he’s based on Big Bill Morganfield. And yet Wald is delighted by the scene because it illuminates a versatility and curiosity that the author thinks Seeger doesn’t get enough credit for.
I haven’t had the chance to meet Dylan personally, so I can’t comment on that matter, but I did know Pete Seeger and Ed Norton portraying him in the movie… and let me tell you, both I and people who knew Pete Seeger better than I did were astounded. Not only that, but they accurately captured the music from start to finish, and there’s a lot of it, not just Dylan’s music. A scene that particularly stood out for me was when Dylan and Big Bill Morganfield were playing blues together, and Seeger starts playing banjo along with them. Now, this specific event didn’t occur in the way it’s shown, but it perfectly encapsulates how Pete Seeger played the banjo when he jammed with blues musicians. Many people, even those deeply involved in the scene, may not realize that Pete Seeger could jam to blues music like that. This portrayal is remarkably accurate, though the particular encounter didn’t take place in the location depicted.
How do people typically perceive Seeger, is it balanced and truthful? Also, is the main focus of the movie more about folk music versus rock music?
According to Wald, “In most portrayals of the Dylan story, people are captivated by Dylan and tend to view Seeger as a dull folk singer. My aim with my book was to depict Seeger as being equally complex and challenging as Dylan, and that they were on different paths, particularly at Newport Festival, although they were indeed on similar paths at other times. Interestingly, the movie also suggests that they remained friends after that encounter, which is another element I appreciated.
Even if it was fabricated, Wald appreciates how the movie concludes with a scene of Dylan returning to Woody Guthrie’s hospital room, playing harmonica together on “So Long, It’s Been Good to Know You.” This suggests that the transformed rocker hasn’t abandoned folk music entirely, but only partially and perhaps not permanently.
Wald explains that stories told in the ’70s often came from a rock perspective, penned by individuals who weren’t fans of folk music or Pete Seeger. They saw it as Dylan freeing himself from the monotonous old folk musicians and validating the rock ‘n’ rollers. However, today, we view Dylan as a deeply rooted figure in Americana, someone who has stayed faithful to this tradition. Consequently, I believe that this particular event is perceived quite differently, not just in the film but also by younger generations – it makes perfect sense to view this moment as Dylan trying to distance himself from the folk movement, but not from folk music. And indeed, he was.
In essence, ‘Maggie’s Farm’ serves as a prime example. When Dylan sings ‘I ain’t gonna work on Maggie’s farm no more’ at the start of his Newport ’65 performance, it clearly signifies a breakaway from that environment. However, this song is actually a reinterpretation of an older tune called ‘Penny’s Farm,’ which Pete Seeger had recorded in the 1950s!
During that period, Seeger appeared genuinely disturbed by what he perceived as aggression. The portrayal in the film of Dylan and his companions growing weary of being confined, along with their declaration ‘we’re gonna show the damn folkies,’ seems accurate to me. Initially, he wrote something expressing anger and destruction, but my book includes a quote from that very week where he stated he felt the song ‘Maggie’s Farm’ was angry and destructive. However, Seeger was a man known for deep introspection. He soon changed his mind, believing he had misinterpreted the situation, and concluded that the song was actually masterful, and that Dylan needed to break free from the constraints imposed upon him. They reconciled, and they continued to meet up over the years.
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2024-12-26 22:18