With a discography of 40 studio albums and 21 live albums over a 63-year career as a singer and songwriter, Bob Dylan’s accomplishments are staggering. A Rock and Roll Hall of Famer, Songwriters Hall of Famer, Pulitzer Prize recipient, Légion d’Honneur honoree, and Presidential Medal of Freedom award winner, among many other accolades, Dylan has been touring since 1988, performing over 3,000 live shows, and continues to do so at the age of 83. Unquestionably a living legend, he has touched the lives of millions worldwide through his songs alone. It’s hardly surprising, then, that numerous films—primarily documentaries—have been made about his life and career over the decades.
The latest of these, A Complete Unknown (directed by James Mangold) is a dramatic biopic that focuses on Dylan’s early career and rise to fame, from the moment he sets foot in New York in 1961 up until his pivotal performance at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, where his defiant decision to abandon his traditional, acoustic, folk-singing roots and embrace a more electronic, rock guitar sound would ultimately shake up the folk movement and give birth to the rise of “folk rock.”
Timothée Chalamet (Call Me by Your Name, Dune) portrays a young, enigmatic, and self-assured version of Bob Dylan in his twenties, whose nasally yet earnest vocals and skill with the harmonica and guitar quickly open doors for him. Dylan’s pilgrimage to visit his ailing folk-singer idol, Woody Guthrie, in a New Jersey hospital leads to a chance encounter with fellow singer and activist Pete Seeger (Edward Norton). Recognizing Dylan’s potential, Seeger eagerly takes the young singer under his wing, a move that brings Dylan into the Greenwich Village orbit of major players who would shape his trajectory and, in turn, be shaped by their interactions with him.
A Complete Unknown also explores two of Dylan’s early romantic relationships as an adult. One involves Sylvie Russo, a fictional character inspired by Dylan’s then-real-life girlfriend and muse, Suze Rotolo (played by Elle Fanning). The other focuses on Joan Baez, a folk-singing phenom with whom Dylan would closely collaborate professionally (played by Monica Barbaro). Baez’s interpretive covers of Dylan’s songs helped popularize them within the folk community, and as Dylan’s star began to rise, Baez frequently performed alongside him. She also invited him to sing duets with her on stage at the Newport Folk Festival, starting in 1963. Naturally, A Complete Unknown dramatizes the love triangle that developed between Dylan, Rotolo, and Baez.
What may go overlooked by many about this film are the fantastic musical performances by the principal cast—Timothée Chalamet, Monica Barbaro, Edward Norton, and Boyd Holbrook (the latter making a minor supporting appearance as Johnny Cash). The performances sound so effortlessly natural that they might not receive the credit they deserve. A significant part of the magic lies in the fact that all the performances are sung live by the actors themselves, using authentic period microphones, instruments, and equipment.
More importantly, while the actors sing in the “style” of the legends they portray, they use their own voices, making the roles their own instead of merely imitating the originals. Barbaro’s vocals as Baez, in particular, sound both elegant and hardened beyond their years. Norton’s genial turn as Seeger evokes nostalgia, reminding me of childhood singalongs in elementary school and Cub Scouts, albeit with a peaceful activist tone.
As the principal star, Chalamet has the most challenging role, performing an astounding 40 songs on the soundtrack, all live with guitar and harmonica. Even if you’re not initially a fan of his interpretation of Dylan’s intentionally fractured and ever-evolving vocal style, A Complete Unknown’s 2 ½ hour runtime provides plenty of time to grow accustomed to it. Personally, I enjoyed most of Chalamet’s solo performances (e.g., Like a Rolling Stone, The Times They Are a-Changin’) with some exceptions, but his romantically charged collaborations with Barbaro—such as their rendition of Dylan and Baez’s It Ain’t Me Babe—more than make up for any weaker material.
“I found myself shrugging with indifference during A Complete Unknown’s climax, wondering if what I was watching was truly significant.”
Having said all that, what’s somewhat problematic about A Complete Unknown, despite its wonderful singing and acting performances by Chalamet, Barbaro, Norton, Fanning, and others, is that A Complete Unknown feels more like a dramatization of Dylan’s seemingly boundless talent and ambition in his youth rather than a true character study. There is a moment around the film’s midpoint where a glimpse of struggle surfaces: Dylan expresses frustration over everyone expecting him to be someone different, while he would rather be left alone to become who he is meant to be. However, this struggle is never fully internalized—it’s simply a fleeting thought voiced in an elevator to a future colleague, Bob Neuwirth.
The scene in question effectively moves the narrative forward but earns Dylan little, if any, sympathy—not that A Complete Unknown ever suggests he requires it. In fact, from the very moment Dylan first meets Guthrie, and Seeger asks him why he “tramped all the way from Minnesota” to be at Guthrie’s bedside, Dylan replies with muted admiration, “I was hoping to catch a spark.” While seemingly innocent, this line becomes a fitting metaphor for several of Dylan’s relationships in the film, particularly with Baez, his manager Albert Grossman, and the folk movement (represented mainly by Seeger).
There’s a polite, unspoken undercurrent suggesting that everyone is using each other, but in “the business,” most are fine with it. On that note, Dylan and Baez share on-screen chemistry that smoulders, thanks in large part to their mutual understanding of this dynamic. Baez can be caring, but she also sees through Dylan (and his pretenses) immediately. She clearly understands the limits of their relationship, which is refreshing. She doesn’t try to claim Dylan for herself because she knows, deep down, that he can’t—and won’t—be claimed by anyone.
If there’s any performance in A Complete Unknown from a character who absolutely wants to claim Dylan and deserves special mention, it’s Edward Norton’s affable turn as Pete Seeger. Seeger faces the daunting task of being a trusted friend and mentor to Dylan while remaining steadfastly dedicated to the needs of the American folk movement—a movement that Seeger, Newport Folk Festival organizer Alan Lomax, and others are convinced Dylan represents the future of.
At one point in A Complete Unknown, Fanning’s Sylvie Russo likens her relationship with Dylan to a carnival performer trying to balance several spinning plates, where Dylan is the performer and she is merely one of the plates. However, Seeger is the literal personification of that metaphor, always smiling as he struggles to keep the powers that be in the folk community content while simultaneously working tirelessly to keep the increasingly rebellious Dylan in the fold. It’s a Sisyphean task destined to fail, but watching Seeger squirm to keep all those plates spinning—without ever giving in to anger, violence, or betraying his personal ideals—is highly entertaining and makes him a character worth rooting for.
Seeger’s dilemma brings me to A Complete Unknown’s biggest problem as a dramatic biopic: it’s extremely light on conflict and fails to explain the larger stakes for a modern audience, one far removed from Dylan’s youthful era (including my middle-aged self). For instance, why was it so crucial to the American folk movement that Dylan remain a strictly acoustic singer and not “go electric”? What made acoustic folk so sacrosanct that electrically amplified instruments couldn’t be used? Why was it considered so controversial for Dylan to perform as a lead singer in a “rock band” rather than as a solo folk singer?
A Complete Unknown never provides answers to these questions, instead assuming the audience already knows and understands the divide between folk and rock in the 1960s and why it existed. Because of this, I found myself shrugging with indifference during A Complete Unknown’s climax, wondering if what I was watching was truly significant. There’s no question that the 1965 Newport Folk Festival incident was an iconic moment that altered the course of music history, but without being given a full emotional connection to what was at risk—particularly for the folk movement—it felt more like observing a tempest in a teacup.
As a result of Dylan’s immense fame, he is never truly challenged, his career is never threatened, and aside from his lovers, no one ever says “no” to him. This results in a narrative that feels remarkably low stakes. Dylan was bound to go his own way regardless, and if A Complete Unknown is to be believed, there was nothing a group of uptight folk singers or disgruntled fans could have done to convince him otherwise. I just wish I could have rooted for him as much as I did for Seeger, who had a much bigger—and friendlier—stake in this fight.
