Think twice, it’s not all right
I’m "Not There" is in theatres this Friday, November 30
Warren Haas, the Peak (SIMON FRASER UNIERSITY)
To say I’m Not There will cause a divide among Bob Dylan fans as stark as when he switched from acoustic to electric guitar is a slight overstatement but not entirely unfitting. Where some fans accused Dylan of abandoning his folk music roots in favour of a commercial product, others embraced his new experimental sound. With this film, people may claim director and co-writer Todd Haynes has ignored the soul of Dylan’s life and legend in order to create a Hollywood gimmick with six different actors in the lead role, while there will be others who say Haynes has captured the indefinable essence of the enigma that is Bob Dylan (probably in exactly those terms).
Haynes takes the right approach in avoiding the rehashed troubled-music-figure biopic, but, in ignoring that focus, he fails to find anything to focus on. There are about six different stories going on at once, which is fine — the problem is that it’s very difficult to take anything away from each particular tale. To be clear, the six actors (Cate Blanchett, Ben Whishaw, Christian Bale, Richard Gere, Heath Ledger, and Marcus Carl Franklin) are all Bob Dylan, yet none of them go by his name. I’m Not There is a film of representations and allegories — much like a dream. It is not to be taken too literally, yet there is the unmistakable air of Dylan within almost every character.
The exceptions are Gere’s fictional “cowboy-esque” Billy and Ledger’s movie star Robbie, who prove to be little more than figures whose appearances in the film are as confounding as Dylan himself. This is almost certainly Haynes’s purpose, but unfortunately a mystical cowboy and an adulterous, alcoholic actor (who could be swapped with any substance-abusing celebrity stereotype) do little to offer understanding or even further the intrigue of such a mysterious person.
Bale, Whishaw, and Blanchett’s embodiments of the singer are the most coherent, but not overly so; Haynes has no desire to claim any definitive insight on Dylan. Blanchett gives the best performance as a male folk singer that has decided to start playing rock ’n’ roll and is unable to escape the media’s desire to understand him. Sadly, she also has dialogue that is at times completely convincing (in every scene her character is interviewed in a car) and at others totally absurd — Haynes repeatedly splices Dylan song titles in at random.
The dream-like nature of the film is perhaps best exemplified when Marcus Carl Franklin’s train-hopping troubadour falls into a lake and is swallowed up by a giant whale, only to recoup in a hospital a few days later. As exaggerated as it sounds, this scene tells the viewer that you are indeed meant to take nothing literally and expect no basis in realism. The film’s surrealism does assure you that it is no gimmick; Haynes appears genuinely interested in depicting diverse and extraordinary characters — but the fact that each story is open to interpretation leaves you questioning exactly why someone felt this film needed to be made.
This is where some Dylan fans may value Haynes’s effort; the movie is as inexplicable as the man. It’s doubtful anyone will ever understand Bob Dylan, just as they may never understand this film, and there are those that will be content with that. But part of the enjoyment of Dylan’s music and persona (for me, anyway) is trying to figure out something, anything, about where he’s been and what he’s done that’s inspired him. I’m Not There instead acts as cinematic fantasy that has been inspired by the man’s mystique and has little desire to examine what might be genuine about Bob Dylan.
