Certificate: 15
Running Time: 141 mins
UK Distributor: Searchlight Pictures
UK Release Date: 17 January 2025
Timothée Chalamet, Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Boyd Holbrook, Don Fogler, Norbert Leo Butz, Scoot McNairy, P.J. Byrne, Will Harrison, Eriko Hatsune, Charlie Tahan, Ryan Harris Brown, Eli Brown, Nick Pupo, Big Bill Morganfield, Laura Kariuki, Stephen Carter Carlsen, Eric Berryman, David Alan Basche, Joe Tippett, James Austin Johnson, Kayli Carter, Sarah King, Alaina Surgener, Michael Chernus, Will Price
James Mangold (director, writer, producer), Jay Cocks (writer), Fred Berger, Bob Bookman, Timothée Chalamet, Alan Gasmer, Alex Heineman, Peter Jaysen and Jeff Rosen (producers), Phedon Papamichael (cinematographer), Andrew Buckland and Scott Morris (editors)
A young Bob Dylan (Chalamet) makes a name for himself in the early 60s…
Bob Dylan was – nay, still is – a fascinating figure, one whose entire life story could take up volumes of books, or even multiple films, to tell. In that regard, while director and co-writer James Mangold’s A Complete Unknown is not intended as the first in some sort of Dylan Cinematic Universe (a very different kind of DCU, one with a lot more harmonicas), it does feel like a profound first chapter in a much larger story.
An origin tale, if you will, Mangold’s film charts the rapid ascension of Bob Dylan in the world of folk music, laying the foundations for what the genre could be and what it would ultimately become. But in a rather intriguing twist to the music biopic formula, A Complete Unknown also tackles the burning question that often pops up in these types of movies: what if this central musical prodigy was also, well, kind of a dick?
The film begins in 1961, when Bob Dylan (Timothée Chalamet) arrives in New York, intending to pay a visit to his ailing music idol Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy) in hospital. He also meets fellow musician Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), who becomes one of the young man’s first major backers as he enters the folk music scene, already dominated by the likes of Johnny Cash (Boyd Holbrook), whom Dylan starts a pen-pal relationship with, and Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), with whom he ignites an actual relationship with, albeit one that’s juggled with his commitment to girlfriend Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning) and eventually riddled with plenty of petulant tempestuousness.
Of course, Dylan quickly skyrockets to fame with songs like “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are A-Changin’”, until in 1965 when – at an already crucial juncture for the folk scene as more and more musicians are embracing electrical instruments over the more traditional acoustic kit – he makes the bold and ultimately rather controversial transition to an all-out electric performer, in doing so evolving the genre of music to a then-unfamiliar place. All the while, Dylan struggles with his newfound popularity, as well as the pressures of his managers and record label, and isolates nearly everyone with his curt and, again, quite dick-ish attitude.
It’s a bold choice for Mangold and co-writer Jay Cocks, the latter having written the likes of Silence and The Age of Innocence for Martin Scorsese, to retain Bob Dylan’s famously prickly personality in a film designed to celebrate the artist’s legacy and influence. Throughout, the character makes little attempt to open himself up to others in meaningful ways, keeping his past a total secret to even his closest lovers, and refusing to play along in a system where even the biggest rule-breakers have bent the knee to music moguls and record company executives. Though this is certainly in line with Dylan’s real-life rejection of the status quo, the way it comes across in this narrative makes him a somewhat cold and unsympathetic figure, especially when he is shown to treat certain people poorly, even those who may have originally provided him the path towards his initial stardom, while being lost in his own aura of pretence.
This isn’t the kind of biopic where the central musical figure is the misunderstood genius who goes on to show the world his true power: everyone already knows he’s a genius, especially himself, and what he has to offer turns out to not necessarily be what people want to hear (at least, not at this point in time). Although, in a way, that does make A Complete Unknown a pretty apt Bob Dylan biopic, for like the man himself it boldly defies most conventions, reveals many layers to its wider tale of musical freedom and changing times – the very kind that Dylan sang about – and ever so slightly irritates with its occasional aimlessness.
Mangold brings a steady pace to his cinematic embodiment of Dylan’s legacy, capturing the world of 60s New York with a slightly whimsical touch this side of Steven Spielberg, something that Phedon Papamichael’s cinematography similarly captures with a warm and initially inviting gaze. Meanwhile, a solid ensemble cast lends plenty of intrigue to a mix of grounded and larger-than-life characters, with strong turns by Edward Norton, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro and Boyd Holbrook (who, in just a handful of scenes, outperforms even Joaquin Phoenix’s take in Mangold’s previous Johnny Cash biopic Walk the Line).
Then, there is Timothée Chalamet’s simply magnificent turn as Bob Dylan. Not only does the actor nail the musician’s recognisable vocals, performed live by the actor without any trace of lip-syncing, but he also embodies his withdrawn too-cool-for-this-reality body language like a sullener beatnik version of Willy Wonka. If the performance seems devoid of charisma, that is entirely by design; for all his talent, Bob Dylan has never been a charismatic performer, often letting his music serve as the mouthpiece for his rambling, borderline nonsensical train of thought, and Chalamet transforms that into a reserved force of nature as his take on the figure leans heavily into the figure’s mysteriousness without revealing too much about who he may truly be. Even if it’s far from the most flattering portrayal of Bob Dylan – though one might argue that an even more disrespectful take would be to depict him as utterly infallible – Chalamet neatly embodies his prickly nature for a striking performance that defies most expectations, just as Dylan himself would often do.
Not all of it works, for the second half feels a little unsteady as it grapples with perhaps too many themes and ideas at once, but A Complete Unknown is a fascinating snapshot of how an icon like Bob Dylan went from unknown to known. Even if he was, as the film likes to point out so often, kind of a dick.
A Complete Unknown is an intriguing take on the early years of Bob Dylan, as director and co-writer James Mangold captures the irreverent, and often unsympathetic, nature of the iconic singer that Timothée Chalamet brings to life with a magnetic lead performance, one that carries the film through its occasional aimlessness.
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