I’m Not There is the unique bio-pic based on the many faces of Bob Dylan, and was directed by Velvet Goldmine director, Todd Haynes. From the opening sequence, Haynes throws away what has become the playbook for directors of rock biographies –previously observed in films like Ray and Walk the Line – in favor of a non-linear adaptation of Dylan’s life, similar almost to Dylan’s own memoir, Chronicles. To further re-emphasize the Dylan enigma, Haynes cast several actors to play Dylan - as opposed to one main actor - and the result is a remarkable piece of fiction inspired by fact.
Fans of Dylan’s work will be ultimately pleased with the great care Haynes has taken in recreating the many instances of his career - instances that have become etched into the psyche of American pop culture. But Haynes knows better than to try and replicate these moments straight-up. I’m Not There would ultimately be a failure if it attempted to adapt Dylan’s life in the way a movie like Ray adapted Ray Charles, because Dylan himself is not tangible in that realm. So, while Christian Bale’s Dylan captures the essence of civil rights-era Bob - as he is seen performing “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” along side a flatbed truck, in a shot that resembles Dylan’s own performance at a 1963 rally in Mississippi - Haynes character goes by the name Jack Rollins, who we later see make the conversion to Christianity, just as Dylan did in the late 70’s. Patience is required for I’m Not There, and perhaps even more importantly, so is an imagination. This is only because Haynes pushes the boundaries of the context before him just as Dylan himself has done throughout his career. Much of Dylan’s early life is told through the eyes of 14-year old Marcus Carl Franklin, and automatically – because Franklin is black – audiences need to remove themselves from what they know is fact, and enter a realm where only the narrative reigns supreme.
Idealistically, it’s an act of genius on Haynes’ part to cast a black teen to play the early Dylan, because most of the music Dylan grew up listening to was primarily the hard-time killin’ floor sounds of the blues. As Franklin hops aboard a train like a rambling hobo, wise beyond his years, it all begins to make sense. Because even though it’s not Dylan himself that we see, Haynes digs into the young artist’s daydreams – not his own reality - to the point where the audience doesn’t see Franklin anymore, but in fact, all they see is Dylan. The same can be said for Cate Blanchett’s portrayal of Dylan circa 1966, as the backlash from the folk community for Dylan’s decision to go electric wears on the performer like a ton of bricks. It doesn’t matter that Blanchett’s character is named Jude, because the words, mannerisms, and temperaments are all a manifestation of the Dylan persona. “Folk is just a word,” says Jude, “a word I can’t use anymore,” and the dialogue bites just as nasty as anything in Don’t Look Back.
This is not Haynes’ first foray into rock and roll fact/fiction. Velvet Goldmine was based loosely on the relationship between David Bowie and Iggy Pop. But where Velvet Goldmine failed was in how it slipped further and further away from its principles and evolved into something other than what it was originally intended to be. I’m Not There doesn’t have that problem. This movie is unquestionably about the life and times of Bob Dylan, only told in way that, truthfully, only a story about Dylan could be told – in movements, layers, truths, and riddles.
Fans of Dylan’s work will be ultimately pleased with the great care Haynes has taken in recreating the many instances of his career - instances that have become etched into the psyche of American pop culture. But Haynes knows better than to try and replicate these moments straight-up. I’m Not There would ultimately be a failure if it attempted to adapt Dylan’s life in the way a movie like Ray adapted Ray Charles, because Dylan himself is not tangible in that realm. So, while Christian Bale’s Dylan captures the essence of civil rights-era Bob - as he is seen performing “The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” along side a flatbed truck, in a shot that resembles Dylan’s own performance at a 1963 rally in Mississippi - Haynes character goes by the name Jack Rollins, who we later see make the conversion to Christianity, just as Dylan did in the late 70’s. Patience is required for I’m Not There, and perhaps even more importantly, so is an imagination. This is only because Haynes pushes the boundaries of the context before him just as Dylan himself has done throughout his career. Much of Dylan’s early life is told through the eyes of 14-year old Marcus Carl Franklin, and automatically – because Franklin is black – audiences need to remove themselves from what they know is fact, and enter a realm where only the narrative reigns supreme.
Idealistically, it’s an act of genius on Haynes’ part to cast a black teen to play the early Dylan, because most of the music Dylan grew up listening to was primarily the hard-time killin’ floor sounds of the blues. As Franklin hops aboard a train like a rambling hobo, wise beyond his years, it all begins to make sense. Because even though it’s not Dylan himself that we see, Haynes digs into the young artist’s daydreams – not his own reality - to the point where the audience doesn’t see Franklin anymore, but in fact, all they see is Dylan. The same can be said for Cate Blanchett’s portrayal of Dylan circa 1966, as the backlash from the folk community for Dylan’s decision to go electric wears on the performer like a ton of bricks. It doesn’t matter that Blanchett’s character is named Jude, because the words, mannerisms, and temperaments are all a manifestation of the Dylan persona. “Folk is just a word,” says Jude, “a word I can’t use anymore,” and the dialogue bites just as nasty as anything in Don’t Look Back.
This is not Haynes’ first foray into rock and roll fact/fiction. Velvet Goldmine was based loosely on the relationship between David Bowie and Iggy Pop. But where Velvet Goldmine failed was in how it slipped further and further away from its principles and evolved into something other than what it was originally intended to be. I’m Not There doesn’t have that problem. This movie is unquestionably about the life and times of Bob Dylan, only told in way that, truthfully, only a story about Dylan could be told – in movements, layers, truths, and riddles.
View the trailer for I'm Not There:
