“A COMPLETE UNKNOWN”: CAN ART AND ARTISTS BE SEPARATED?
BY OLIVIA LEGGANS PHOTO BY PROVIDED
Whether the elusive and mercurial persona of Bob Dylan sends you into hours of lyrical analysis and bootleg rummaging, or his name flies right over your head, James Mangold’s “A Complete Unknown” (2024) is a mesmerizing snapshot of the early ‘60s and refreshing jumping off point for all to enjoy.
Although the film is slotted into the biopic genre, Mangold deviates from the often-tired origin story formula. If you’re searching for an exhaustive, academic account of Dylan’s upbringing, background, and full career, look somewhere else entirely. Rather than focusing on the outside perception or inner monologue of Dylan, seamlessly played by Timothée Chalamet, the film zooms out to capture the rich world of emotions, politics, music, and culture within New York’s folk scene from 1961-1965.
In comparison to the countless Bob Dylan documentaries, “A Complete Unknown” is clearly dramatized and condensed, yet it neither falls victim to blind obsession and romanticization of Dylan nor does it shame his faults.
The star of the show is Dylan’s web of connections with Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro), Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), and Johnny Cash (Boyd Holbrook). The film’s focus on Dylan’s ever-changing levels of connection with the cast provides both intrigue and context for the film’s entrancing live performances.
After his fresh arrival to New York City, Dylan reinvents himself from a completely unknown boy from Minnesota into a well-connected, desired folk figure. After suffocating ties and expectations, however, Dylan retreats — both publicly and privately — into the elusive, inaccessible, and ultimately unknown persona most recognized today.
Dylan’s situation, while extreme, is in many ways applicable to everyone. His give-and-take pattern of baiting and rescinding connection in “A Complete Unknown” is valuable for anyone parsing through the complicated balance of independence and commitment in all relationships and friendships — especially in the face of careers and individual goals.
Chalamet aesthetically nails the disheveled image and impenetrable demeanor that sunglasses-and-canvas-jacket-wearing indie boys everywhere flock to, yet the film does not build up Dylan as an unequivocally model person. Mangold managed to avoid the romanticization and justification of disrespectful behavior in the name of being a mysterious artist.
Mangold emphasized how this environment and surrounding individuals informed Dylan—and how Dylan ultimately informed popular music. The film’s focused timeframe not only makes Dylan’s intimidatingly formidable career digestible but limits the audience’s access to him— which feels in line with his secretive public persona.
The film gives passing nods to Dylan’s origins, yet we are never told exactly who he is or why. Many speculate about his secrecy and psychoanalyze his behavior, to the point where Dylan seemingly wants to remain truly unknown. Maybe we should let him.
Dylan’s relationships and coming-of-age experiences were likely just as tumultuous and uncertain as the average 19-year-old. His music is what continues to be a rare and pervasively relevant perspective on all the things we do and do not know throughout our lives. With the political backdrop of the ‘60s and the characters’ intermingled relationships bubbling below the surface, the live performances of Timothée Chalamet, Monica Barbaro, Edward Norton, and Boyd Holbrook ring louder and truer.
James Mangold’s “A Complete Unknown” is a deeper, not wider, peephole into four early and pivotal years in Bob Dylan’s life and career. The film’s balance of dramatized relationship dynamics and genuinely hypnotic performances leaves the audience fully invested without exploiting Dylan’s famed many faults and guises. Ultimately, “A Complete Unknown” forces audiences to listen to the music in its context without obsessively evaluating the artist.
