It's several weeks since I frittered away another afternoon in the build-up to Christmas with Haynes' take on the biopic in the depths of Soho. My memories of the movie are already splintered, erratic, imprecise.
Which could be exactly what they're supposed to be. The conceit at the heart of the film, that Dylan is played by half a dozen different actors, is an adventurous hook. Intellectually, it's an effective vantage point. No biopic can capture the complete essence of the star it portrays, so to acknowledge the fiction, and explore it, is a bold but strangely sensible decision.
Haynes knows he's scoring rock 'n roll points by casting a black kid or an australian actress as the legend. The Blanchett scenes ultimately seemed overblown, in the vein of Velvet Goldmine; whilst the Franklin scenes strived for and just about achieved the right level of winsome charm. Every viewer is going to walk away with their own favourite from the assorted Dylan selection; and every fan is likely to find one of the incarnations more convincing than the others. The conceit is liable to be as effective as it is counter-productive - there were some Dylans I was waiting to see more of, and others I could have done without.
All of which is part of the game Haynes is playing with the viewer. The only trouble with all this is the knowingness of the game's author. When Dylan is knowing, it is within the context of an audience which has travelled his journey with him - he's earned his right to tell it like it is. Haynes doesn't yet have that authority, no matter how fine a filmmaker he might be. We end up participating in his Godardian jeux d'esprit, without quite knowing what we're going to get out of it, or whether it's worth our while. Unlike Dylan's songs, there never seems to be any real body behind the film's games, or anything at stake. When Dylan sings: 'It was gravity that pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart', the line is endowed with the power of someone who sounds like they've been to that place we all believe we've been to at some point.
At no point does Haynes connect with his audience in the same way. As a result his film is entertaining but rarely compelling, and another that suffers by comparison with the voice it's paying homage to.
Having said which, the memories are now as splintered as the movie itself; and I did love the Black Panther scene.
Which could be exactly what they're supposed to be. The conceit at the heart of the film, that Dylan is played by half a dozen different actors, is an adventurous hook. Intellectually, it's an effective vantage point. No biopic can capture the complete essence of the star it portrays, so to acknowledge the fiction, and explore it, is a bold but strangely sensible decision.
Haynes knows he's scoring rock 'n roll points by casting a black kid or an australian actress as the legend. The Blanchett scenes ultimately seemed overblown, in the vein of Velvet Goldmine; whilst the Franklin scenes strived for and just about achieved the right level of winsome charm. Every viewer is going to walk away with their own favourite from the assorted Dylan selection; and every fan is likely to find one of the incarnations more convincing than the others. The conceit is liable to be as effective as it is counter-productive - there were some Dylans I was waiting to see more of, and others I could have done without.
All of which is part of the game Haynes is playing with the viewer. The only trouble with all this is the knowingness of the game's author. When Dylan is knowing, it is within the context of an audience which has travelled his journey with him - he's earned his right to tell it like it is. Haynes doesn't yet have that authority, no matter how fine a filmmaker he might be. We end up participating in his Godardian jeux d'esprit, without quite knowing what we're going to get out of it, or whether it's worth our while. Unlike Dylan's songs, there never seems to be any real body behind the film's games, or anything at stake. When Dylan sings: 'It was gravity that pulled us down and destiny which broke us apart', the line is endowed with the power of someone who sounds like they've been to that place we all believe we've been to at some point.
At no point does Haynes connect with his audience in the same way. As a result his film is entertaining but rarely compelling, and another that suffers by comparison with the voice it's paying homage to.
Having said which, the memories are now as splintered as the movie itself; and I did love the Black Panther scene.
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