A Complete Unknown

Director: James Mangold
Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook, Dan Fogler, Norbert Leo Butz, Eriko Hatsune, Scoot McNairy, P.J. Byrne, Michael Chernus, Charlie Tahan
Running Time: 141 min.
Rating: R

★★★½ (out of ★★★★)

When a quality musical biopic comes around, whatever praise it receives is usually accompanied by some dismissive, backhanded compliment about it not feeling like one. As if the entire genre only exists to chronologically retrace a public figure's life with little insight or nuance. So for skeptics, it's probably best not to label James Mangold's A Complete Unknown a biopic, but a great film Bob Dylan happens to be at the center of. Besides referencing his famous lyric, its clever title doubles as a description of the man himself, which could have only helped in convincing the notoriously picky and cantankerous artist to sign off on Mangold and co-writer James Cocks' script. 

That it's based on Elijah Wald's 2015 book Dylan Goes Electric!, gives us a pretty good idea all roads will lead to his controversial 1965 Newport Folk Festival performance that turned the music world upside down. Filtered through the prism of Timothée Chalamet's disappearing act, we get glimpses of the sensitive, creative genius at his peak who's also defined by a selfish, obsessive perfectionism that pushes away those closest to him. And though fame was an entirely different animal back then, it's fun and fascinating to watch Dylan subvert his while still remaining repulsed by the whole idea of it.

It's 1961 when a 19-year-old Bob Dylan (Chalamet) hitchhikes from Minnesota to find his idol, folk legend Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy), who's in a New Jersey hospital slowly succumbing to Huntington's Disease. Upon his arrival, Dylan meets Woody and his good friend Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who are both blown away by the young man's singing and songwriting talents. Pete invites Dylan to crash at his house, introducing him to New York's Greenwich Village folk scene and rising star Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), who he immediately takes a liking to. 

After being signed to a record deal by manager Albert Grossman (Dan Fogler), Dylan embarks on a relationship with artist Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), who grows frustrated by his standoffish behavior and inability to open up to her. But as Dylan's popularity skyrockets amid the political turmoil of the 60's, he strays from folk's traditional roots to embrace more modern, socially conscious songwriting. While Pete and the folk community disapprove of Dylan's plans to bring a polarizing new sound to the masses, Sylvie is increasingly alarmed by his growing connection with Baez.  

Because this period represents the most vital slice of Dylan's development, Mangold consciously avoids making pit stops through the various stages of the legendary singer's career, instead dropping him into his own story, seemingly out of nowhere. Neither Pete or an ailing Guthrie have a clue who this kid is, but after picking up the guitar and working his magic, none of that matters. 

Fanning's Sylvie isn't just the film's fictionalized version of Dylan's real-life girlfriend Suze Rotolo (best known for appearing alongside him on the album cover for 1963's The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan) but the only person interested in who he actually is. But in prodding the former Robert Zimmerman about his days working at a traveling carnival, she only awakens a more temperamental side to his personality. If she views a person's past as the gateway to their soul, Dylan merely sees it as an inconvenient obstacle in crafting an entirely new persona out of whole cloth. 

The soft spoken warmth in Norton's portrayal of Pete Seeger prompts us to suspect the folk legend would have still taken Dylan in knowing the repercussions his protégé's choices would have on folk and how negatively he'd feel about it. While Dylan's respect for the genre is unquestioned, he only sees a dead end recording cover songs from previous generations while society yearns for something that addresses their current reality.

The Baez partnership is best described as magical onstage but parasitic off it. While Mangold definitely takes some liberties and fudges the timeline a bit, the essence of how they became so inextricably linked does shine through, particularly in the stage performances. Career-wise, she doesn't actually need Dylan, so while they both artistically benefit, it creates an uneven power dynamic because he's a control freak, as some geniuses are. Gifting her "Blowin' in the Wind" is where his generosity stops, at least once he discovers she won't be catering to his every whim. 

Sylvie painfully realizing the palpable bond between Dylan and Baez as they perform is the closest Mangold comes to pedaling in familiar tropes, but Fanning makes the plight of a long suffering girlfriend ring true, effectively conveying the frustration of putting up with an emotionally inaccessible partner who views relationships as disposable. So even while movie's reverence for Dylan's work is persistent, this isn't a saintly, fawning depiction of him in other respects.

If the running joke about Chalamet learning how to sing badly enough to play Dylan holds any truth, he passes the test, nailing that nasally, rambling inflection as he tears through timeless classics like "Girl from the North Country," "Like a Rolling Stone," "Mr. Tambourine Man," "Masters of War" and "The Times They Are a-Changin'." Despite only scratching the surface of music's richest catalogue, the film undeniably hits the key peaks of his early to mid 60's output while Francois Audouy's production design and Arianne Phillips' costuming helps provide the transportive backdrop.  

Any criticisms leveled against Dylan never stuck because he had a perfect voice for the songs he wrote, forever marking him as a storyteller before all else. He was also a prickly, complicated personality that Chalamet effectively blends with an aloofness and underdog quality worth rooting for. Once Dylan enters his most recognizable black turtleneck/sunglasses phase, the actor completes his full immersion, becoming stranger, moodier and more withdrawn in the celebrity spotlight.

Feeling the burn of getting too close to an almost casually cruel Dylan, Monica Barbaro captivates as the increasingly frustrated Baez who tires of his games. Justifiably tiring of his games. she risks becoming collateral damage in his quest to reinvent folk/rock, which comes to a head in the film's thrilling final act. But her biggest feat is in credibly replicating Baez's distinctively rich soprano voice despite no prior singing experience. Asked to fill enormous shoes, it's about as accurate a portrayal as anyone thought possible.

One of the best details of Dylan's infamous '65 Newport set is the presence of Boyd Holbrook's Johnny Cash, who's depicted exactly how we'd hope, cheering on his pal's attack on the music establishment as the act of rebellion it truly is. Pete and the festival organizers may try to stop it, the crowd can boo and heckle him, but when Dylan starts in on "Maggie's Farm," the train's left the station and it hardly matters who's right anymore. As Baez says, he got the freedom he wanted. 

A Complete Unknown is less concerned with checking off dates, facts and milestones than conveying the experiences of those Dylan sucked into his vortex. In an irony he'd appreciate, by film's end he remains as much an enigma as when it started. Drawing the battle lines between what music was and where it's going, we can tell he didn't see any of it as a big deal, shrugging his shoulders with bemusement at all the chaos. He knew everyone would have to move on because this was just the beginning.