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I'm Not There
Bob Dylan casts an elusive shadow. This year we've seen Hayden Christensen playing Not Bob (at the insistence of Mr Dylan's lawyers) in Factory Girl. Adam Sandler looking awfully like him in Reign On Me. And we've heard the real McCoy growl out a new blues on the soundtrack for Lucky You. Now we get no less than six Bobs (though none goes by that name) in Todd Haynes' bio-mash-up, I'm Not There. The title comes from one of the more obscure Basement Tapes recordings, and you can see why it would have appealed to a shape-shifter like Dylan, who gave Haynes' his go-ahead. He was likely pleased to have such a respected filmmaker approach him too. Close attention to Dylan's lyrics reveals a very movie-minded man, despite his own mostly regrettable filmography, which includes such clunkers as Renaldo and Clara and Masked And Anonymous. Haynes' pitch came with the subtitle "Propositions on a Film Concerning Dylan", and pretentious as that sounds it's an apt description for the finished article. It's a given that Dylan is too complex and important a figure to even attempt to encapsulate within the confines of a standard biopic. After all, Scorsese's excellent documentary No Direction Home devoted 208 minutes to the subject and only concerned itself with the period from 1961 to 1966. Actually that period still seems to me the crux of Dylan's artistic evolution; the transitions from bohemian folkie to popular protest singer to rock n roll iconoclast also corresponds with the peak of his importance as a cultural figure, so it's not that hard to imagine a biopic focused on that window, even if we're unlikely to see such a movie until after his death. (Dylan himself gave it very short shrift in his autobiography "Chronicles".)
In fact more than half of Haynes' 135-minute movie is dedicated to exploring the early life. Marcus Carl Franklin - who is 11 years old and black - plays "Woody", a young, brilliant folk singer modeling himself on Guthrie, riding the rails. Christian Bale is "Jack Rollins", the same cat a year or two down the road, blowing away the Greenwich Village clique with his uncanny ear for the pulse. Ben Whishaw (from Perfume) is "Arthur Rimbeau", mostly seen fending off obtuse or at any rate uncomprehending questions circa 1965, and Cate Blanchett is "Jude", the electric performer who moves too fast for fans and critics, the Dylan we remember best from DA Pennebaker's classic cinema-verité documentary Don't Look Back (and from Scorsese's film). There's more, including Richard Gere as "Billy The Kid" (a cowboy recluse riffing on Dylan's role in Peckinpah's Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid), and Heath Ledger as Robbie, a movie star who plays a Dylanesque singer in a biopic, but whose marriage to Charlotte Gainsbourg mirrors Dylan's to Sara Lownds. This is very clever stuff, and Dylan obsessives will find much to chew on. If you're not so well deserved in Dylanology the film will likely be a bit mystifying. Haynes - who made Velvet Goldmine, Safe and Far From Heaven - hails from the more avant-garde end of the American indie scene (he studied post-modern theory and boy does it show). The six strands aren't presented chronologically, but as a stream-of-consciousness collage, often adopting the same playful and surreal associative imagery that renders Dylan's lyrics so fascinating and enigmatic, quoting film styles (like Richard Lester's Beatles new wavery) at the drop of a hat. Cate Blanchett makes the biggest impression, and it's a brilliant performance. She's the spitting image of what one contemporary journalist described as "an undernourished cockatoo", but more importantly the embodiment of the wiry, wily quicksilver intelligence of the man - underneath his often fuzzy, vague, mumblesome manner - in full beam of the media glare.
I'd happily have spent more time with Christian Bale and Heath Ledger too, but the Richard Gere faux Western is a fitful drag that a more disciplined filmmaker (or one with a Harvey Weinstein behind him) would have left on the cutting room floor. Personally I could have done without the Marcus Carl Franklin stuff too. Both these strands are conceptually daring but come off as academic and inert. On the other hand we get a lot of great songs reconditioned in interesting ways - the superlative soundtrack features cover versions by the likes of Sonic Youth, Sufjan Stevens, The Hold Steady and Calexico. Some of the supporting performances are strong too. Julianne Moore is a gas as Joan Baez, Bruce Greenwood does his best not to condescend as a representative of the square press, Mr Jones, and David Cross is funny as Allen Ginsberg. In the end how much you get out of I'm Not There will depend on how well you know your Dylan. (On a scale of 1-10 I'd probably put myself at 5 or 6.) It's a film of inspired moments, stimulating ideas, great visual dexterity and wit, but it misses almost as often as it hits, it doesn't really engage the emotions or stir the blood. Tom Charity 
More information about I'm Not There » Critics' Reviews
Variety
Stylistically audacious in the way it employs six different actors and assorted visual styles to depict various aspects of the troubadour's life and career, the film nevertheless lacks a narrative and a center, much like the 'ghost' at its core
There are plenty of reasons why you might dislike Im Not There, Todd Haynes crazy jigsaw of a sort-of... read more on www.timeout.com Daily Express Inspired... Cate Blanchett's extraordinary! Members' ReviewsReviews Voted Most HelpfulMost Recent Reviews |
Dave Calhoun, Time Out