a complete unknown

Most musician biopics follow a familiar arc — a rise and fall, fueled by the childhood trauma behind it all, then a third-act redemption tied to a career peak. The rise usually involves a montage of tour buses and adoring audiences, the fall a montage of drug use and mistreatment of friends or colleagues. By 2007, the formula was so well established that it inspired the parody Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. More recently, Bohemian Rhapsody and Rocketman, imaginative as they were, leaned on some of the same tropes.
As the producers behind the Bob Dylan biopic A Complete Unknown developed the project, they faced the challenge of making a film that didn’t rely on those plot points, about an iconic singer-songwriter who seldom reveals much. Dylan never derailed his career with a debilitating drug problem (his 1966 tour was fueled by amphetamines, by many accounts, and a motorcycle accident that summer gave him the chance to take some time off), and his career doesn’t have a clear arc so much as a series of sudden left turns. He established himself as a folk singer, then left that scene behind to become a rock star — then veered into country, made an album about his divorce and recorded three gospel albums as a born-again Christian, all in the first two decades of a career that has lasted more than six. It’s not an easy story to make into a film, let alone one with commercial appeal.

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The film works, though. As of the first week of February, the movie has grossed more than $67 million in the U.S. and more than another $20 million abroad, according to Box Office Mojo, and it’s already one of the 10 most successful music biopics in history. It has also received critical acclaim, and numerous Academy Award nominations — including for Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor (for Timothée Chalamet as Dylan), Best Supporting Actress (for Monica Barbaro as Joan Baez), and Best Supporting Actor (for Edward Norton as a note-perfect Pete Seeger). Just as important for Dylan and the companies that have the rights to his music — Universal Music Group owns his publishing, Sony Music his recordings — the film has introduced both his story and his music to a younger generation.

From the beginning, the idea behind the film was to focus on a few years of Dylan’s life, from his 1961 arrival in New York to the summer of 1965, when he “went electric” by performing live with a rock band at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. Dylan’s company had been developing a project set at this time, and in 2016 it optioned the rights to the Elijah Wald book Dylan Goes Electric! Newport, Seeger, Dylan, and the Night That Split the Sixties, which HBO planned to develop into a film. Jack Cocks, who is credited with co-writing the screenplay to A Complete Unknown, wrote a script, but the project never moved forward.

A few years later, Alex Heineman asked his friend and fellow film producer Fred Berger if he would be interested in making some kind of Dylan biopic. “I asked, ‘How did you get the rights?’” Berger remembers. “And he said, ‘I don’t have them.’” The two went to Dylan’s management, which told them that HBO had the rights to another project.

Meanwhile, Berger and Heineman reached out to Chalamet, who was interested in playing Dylan. When the rights to the project became available in 2019, it ended up at Searchlight Pictures, with James Mangold directing — but it didn’t start shooting for another few years. “We got Searchlight and then we got Jim [Mangold], and then we got COVID,” says a source close to Dylan. After that came the writer’s strike.

By then, Mangold, along with Berger and Heineman and Dylan’s team, had the story, as well as an approach. “James Mangold and I and the other producers have a similar feeling about biopics, which is that a cradle-to-grave approach is an expanded Wikipedia page,” Berger says. (Mangold shares a co-writing credit with Cocks.) The director “focused on a narrow period of time” that offered a compelling story to make a larger point about Dylan and what drives him.

In his book, Wald shows that Dylan’s decision to go electric wasn’t just a matter of instrumentation but of leaving the folk scene, with its focus on authenticity and leftist politics, for a rock band and a style that involved more leather jackets than workwear. The original approach for the movie would have spent more time on that political context but the film casts the conflict in more personal terms: Dylan needs to turn away from familial figures, including Pete Seeger, in order to follow his muse. Mangold “approaches story from character,” Berger says. “It’s not about acoustic versus electric — it’s about the family that lifted him up and how those relationships are on the line.”

The stakes are personal, in other words, so A Complete Unknown lacks a rousing resolution, as well as rousing music to accompany it. (The last song Dylan is seen playing in the film is the same song that ended his actual Newport set, “It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue,” an acoustic kiss-off to a scene he had outgrown.) Afterward, Dylan seems to be contemplating his next move, rather than rejoicing in triumph, as Queen is seen doing in Bohemian Rhapsody after the scene set at its Live Aid performance.

It’s hard to know what the success of A Complete Unknown might mean for future music films, but it certainly opens up more possibilities. Coincidentally, one of the next rock biopics to come out will be Deliver Me from Nowhere, a movie about Bruce Springsteen essentially going acoustic, on his 1982 album Nebraska. (It’s Springsteen’s darkest and least commercial album, so don’t expect anthemic music there, either.) It will be interesting to see how that does — and what other stories will follow it to the big screen.

Classic rock is still big — it’s the pictures that are getting smaller.
The definitive modern pop music documentary was Beatles Anthology, the 1995 multi-night television project released with three CD sets of band outtakes and a coffee table book. More recent years brought Ron Howard’s 2016 documentary about the band’s touring years, Peter Jackson’s 2021 series about the making of Let It Be, and the self-explanatory Beatles ’64. In 2027, the Beatles’ Apple Corps will release four more films, one about each individual member of the band.

Bob Dylan, like the Beatles, has always loomed too large for one movie. Don’t Look Back, arguably the most powerful rock documentary ever made, followed Dylan’s 1965 tour of the U.K. Martin Scorsese’s 2005 No Direction Home chronicled the first five years of his career. Then the director made another documentary, this one full of fictional elements and in-jokes, just about Dylan’s 1975-’76 Rolling Thunder Revue tour.

Now James Mangold’s A Complete Unknown, which opened Christmas Day in the U.S., offers a fictionalized take on the first chapter of Dylan’s career, from 1961 through the 1965 concert at which he “went electric.” Timothée Chalamet stars as Dylan, with Edward Norton as Pete Seeger, Monica Barbaro as Joan Baez and Elle Fanning as a character based on Suze Rotolo (the woman pictured on the cover of The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan). It’s a fantastic film, and the performances are incredible — Chalamet captures Dylan’s lost-boy charisma, and Norton channels Seeger’s inflexible idealism perfectly. The movie, based on author Elijah Wald’s Dylan Goes Electric!, took in more than $23 million during its first week in theaters, and reviews have been almost universally favorable.

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The story of the movie is anything but unknown, and there’s not much suspense in it — Dylan grows up fast in the Greenwich Village folk scene, then plays an electric rock set at the Newport Folk Festival, upsetting much of the audience. Dylan’s early career now has the quality of myth, so even the most casual rock fan knows where the story is going — the joy is in seeing it get there in the hands of such talented storytellers. How surprising was Dylan’s decision to play with a rock band, given that the half-electric album Bringing It All Back Home had been out for three months and the single “Like A Rolling Stone” came out five days before the show? Were people booing because Dylan went electric, because the volume obscured his voice, or because his new songs weren’t political? Wald’s excellent book gets at the truth behind the myth — the movie just retells it.

And why not? Stories become myths partly because they’re compelling, and A Complete Unknown evokes nothing so much as a superhero origin story — except that in Dylan’s case, so much of his origin involves making up his actual origin as he went along. In the movie, by the time people realize that this brash young Jewish kid from Minnesota didn’t really work in a traveling circus, he had managed to acquire his own mystique. (In real life, it was a bit more complicated.) As with comic book movies, this leaves plenty of room for sequels, and jokes about this have already been made.

Now’s the time: Chalamet captures Dylan so well that I hope someone signs him up for a sequel based on Dylan’s 1965 tour with the Band, ending with his 1966 motorcycle crash. After that, there’s a domestic drama to be made about Dylan’s retreat into family life in Woodstock, ending with his divorce and Blood on the Tracks. That’s only the first decade and a half of Dylan’s career — there’s another movie to be made about Dylan’s born-again period, when he again offered new music to fans who didn’t receive it well. And what about a comeback story on the making of Oh Mercy or Time Out of Mind?

Dylan’s career lends itself to a certain kind of expansive storytelling, partly because he’s changed so much. (Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There had six different actors essentially playing six different Dylans.) But it’s also worth asking if Dylan is pointing the way forward for music films, as he did with Don’t Look Back. Think about it. Walk the Line told the Johnny Cash story in a way that ends in the late ‘60s, but Cash went on to decline in the ‘80s and came back in the ‘90s, with some of his best work, on the “American Recordings” albums. Isn’t that story worth its own movie? Straight Outta Compton tells the N.W.A. story, but the group’s members went on to have compelling careers that are worth their own stories.

Film executives might suggest that the big stories have already been done, but these days aren’t big stories just foundations for a franchise? Seeing a hero become himself is just the beginning — the best stories are often about what happens next. That’s certainly true in Dylan’s case, and I think it’s true of other artists, to one extent or another. That’s the idea behind the forthcoming Paul McCartney documentary Man on the Run, which tells his story after the Beatles broke up. I hope a Dylan movie sequel follows.