I'm Not There Review
Posted by Chad Webb on 12.05.2007
Was Bob Dylan schizophrenic, or is this film uniquely great?
Christian Bale: Bob Dylan/Jack Rollins
Cate Blanchett: Bob Dylan/Jude Quinn
Marcus Carl Franklin: Bob Dylan/Woody Guthrie
Richard Gere: Bob Dylan/Billy the Kid
Heath Ledger: Bob Dylan Robbie Clarke
Ben Wishaw: Bob Dylan/Arthur Rimbaud
Benz Antoine: Bobby Seale/ Rabbit Brown
David Cross: Allen Ginsberg
Julianne Moore: Alice Fabian/Joan Baez
Michelle Williams: Coco Rivington
Charlotte Gainsbourg: Claire
Bruce Greenwood: Journalist/Pat Garrett
Kris Kristofferson: Narrator
Directed By: Todd Haynes
Release Date: November 21, 2007
Running Time: 135 minutes
Rated R for language, some sexuality and nudity.
I'm Not There is a refreshingly abnormal portrait of a legendary musician. Each of the six actors who portray Bob Dylan are reflections of personalities and attitudes during seven distinct stages in his life. None of them are actually called Bob Dylan. This is probably the most dedicated means to present his story on the big screen. Director Todd Haynes has transformed the controversy and enigmatic qualities of Dylan's career into a poetic form of storytelling that the singer/songwriter himself might utilize. However, while the non-linear/non-traditional narrative is anything but straightforward, that does not diminish its brilliance. This makes I'm Not There the 2001: A Space Odyssey of music biopics. Eat your heart out Pete Hammond of Maxim.
Explaining the plot is a near impossible task. As I said, approximately six people play Bob Dylan. The youngest is an African American boy who says his name is Woody Guthrie (Marcus Carl Franklin) while traveling homeless around the country. Second is Arthur Rimbaud (Ben Wishaw) sitting for an interview about his career. Jack Rollins (Christian Bale) is an aspiring folk singer in Greenwich Village who knows Alice Fabian/Joan Baez (Julianne Moore). Robbie Clarke (Heath Ledger) is an actor who played Jack Rollins in a Hollywood film. He has marriage troubles with a painter named Claire. Jude Quinn (Cate Blanchett) is a musician who has infuriated his fans by switching from acoustic to electric, and now must reap the consequences because of it. The sixth is Billy the Kid (Richard Gere), channeling Dylan's contribution to Sam Peckinpah's Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. Later, Bale returns as Pastor John, perhaps a brand new character, or an older Jack Rollins.
I was not a fan of Dylan as a child. I grew to become an avid follower of his music partly because of 1999's The Hurricane featuring one of his hit songs, and his critically acclaimed 1997 album Time Out of Mind. I wanted to hear that album because it received such rave reviews. From then on, I found myself seeking out more material by Dylan. His raspy voice and beautiful lyrics made a valuable impression on how I view music in general. Since I have quit and re-entered the Columbia House and BMG music clubs multiple times, I have acquired many of his CD's. I have also seen him in concert twice. It is an event everyone should attend at least once in their life.
The more one knows about Dylan’s life, the more satisfying I’m Not There will be. That is not to say that only fans should see the film though because my girlfriend literally knew nothing of the troubadour, yet she still managed to grasp and admire the storylines as they progressed. There are two parts that will be confusing to most viewers. The first involves Heath Ledger as Robbie Clarke, an actor who portrays Jack Rollins in a movie. Clarke’s life and problematic marriage with Claire parallels Dylan’s divorce from a woman named Sarah Lownds. Clarke glides into another version of Dylan, just like the others. Richard Gere and his Billy the Kid persona is a melancholy, yet rewarding, segment that seems a bit out of place, but pay attention. All the visuals mean something. The chaotic and intricate atmosphere suits the proceedings.
The main concern was whether or not the different actors would clash as the same person. I admit to being worried about this initially, but once the feature starts, this is never an issue that will cross your mind. The supporting female performance of the year belongs to Cate Blanchett. The casting process is extremely intriguing. Kudos to the person who thought Blanchett, a woman, would make a convincing skinny frizzy-haired Dylan. This is not merely “good” in terms of yearly performances. Blanchett has delivered a phenomenal and mind-blowing effort that will discussed for a long time to come. She has proven that her talent knows no limits or boundaries. She is better than every man in the film, and is a shoe-in for awards candidacy.
It is amazing that Heath Ledger can be so extraordinary as an actor when he eliminates his dashing looks from the picture. When he strips his media guise bare, and gets down to the task at hand, he is fantastic. As Robbie Clarke, Ledger is on par with his Brokeback Mountain work. He refuses to let any of the other Dylan characters steal the spotlight. In one great scene, he details how women can’t be poets. Watch the trailer, and you will notice a young black boy by the name of Marcus Carl Franklin stepping into the shoes of an adolescent vagabond Dylan who worshipped Woody Guthrie. Despite the race, Franklin is an eye-opening wonder who actually nails the expressions and strumming technique that remind us of Robert Allen Zimmerman. This is why awards for best children performers should be handed out annually.
Christian Bale is almost unfailingly splendid whenever he is on screen. Since 2004’s The Machinist, Bale has been an unstoppable rising force in Hollywood, never conveying anything but 110%. He assumes two parts, one as Jack Rollins, and later as Pastor John. Rollins is only seen sporadically, and described by a friend. This was wise so the audience does not become distracted by the fact that Bale looks like he normally does. No facial hair or make-up is applied until Pastor John arrives. I think Bale left more of an impact as the born again Pastor John, urging the congregation on in a tune called “Pressing On.” Ben Wishaw is still attempting to gain solid ground for his fresh career. He was painstakingly impressive in Perfume: The Story of a Murderer, and he remains a gifted and persuasive talent with a broad range here as Arthur Rimbaud, a tribute to Dylan’s fascination to the French poet. His responses to questions from notable interviews reveal many of the memorable quotes. Finally, there is Richard Gere as Billy the Kid. Gere’s moments are obscure, but enthralling, ambiguous, yet strangely gripping as the Dylan who went into exile. This is Gere’s second, maybe third, magnificent turn of the year following The Hoax and The Hunting Party.
While certain depictions are more compelling than others, no one takes center stage entirely. Each person occupies a vital aspect of Dylan’s life in I’m Not There. They are all effortlessly in sync. Hiring one actor for one smooth flowing story thread might have been ok, but not unique, and certainly not overly noteworthy. I’m Not There had a goal of supplying an inimitable study that was not only captivating, but faithful to Dylan’s preferences, and that is exactly what this is. The method Haynes uses should only augment its reputation with age. This is the first motion picture based on his life that Dylan has ever approved. He wanted it to be made into a musical, but those plans were scrapped years ago.
The lip synching by each actor is spot on and timed perfectly. It is evident, but not poorly constructed. Todd Haynes loves to experiment when directing, and luckily, his obsession with Dylan has paid off with tremendously positive results. This is Haynes’s best submission to date, exceeding the superb Far From Heaven. Haynes and co-writer Oren Moverman have weaved an elegiac, cockamamie, transfixing, and mythical screenplay that touches on all the most crucial corners of Dylan’s iconic life. Some sequences are copied seamlessly from album covers like The Freewheelin’ Bob Dylan, which I found very clever. None of the fragments segue way into one another. The structure does not make sense, but that is the cunning visionary tactics of Haynes at full effect. He supports Dylan’s constantly changing image, and adds to the fabled qualities of his spirit.
The cover songs are wound through the finished product with such elegance and splendor. Among the groups are the Million Dollar Bashers, a supergroup featuring members of Dylan’s own band, Sonic Youth, Wilco, and a random array of singers like Eddie Vedder and Stephen Malkmus. In the lobby of most theaters showing I’m Not There, you might notice a cardboard display detailing all of the seven characters, and what they represented. A brief paragraph even follows explaining every question one might be pondering. They are “The Young Romantic” (Marcus Carl Franklin) from 1959-1961, “The Prophet” (Christian Bale) from 1962-1964, “The Enigma” (Ben Wishaw) from 1965, “The Innovator” (Cate Blanchett) from 1966, “The Restless Lover” (Heath Ledger) from 1964-1973, “The Spiritualist” (Bale) from 1979-1981, and “The Lone Gun” (Richard Gere) from1967-??.
The title I’m Not There is a reference to a bootleg recording during The Basement Tape Sessions. The song circled around in bootleg copies for years, and was never available on a legitimate album. It was considered one of the most highly regarded outtakes, and if you listen to the lyrics, one could probably hear some striking resemblance to a certain character in this film. One of my fondest memories of Dylan was his performance at the 40th Annual Grammy Awards where the “Soy Bomb” boy sprinted on stage and interrupted him. Dylan continued playing as if nobody was there. It was no doubt meaningless compared to what he had seen on his many tours. Todd Haynes’s challenging exertion acts as a collage of Dylan, wrapped up into one frenetically exquisite piece of cinema.
The 411: I’m Not There is one of my favorite films of the year because it demands more from the audience, and that might not sit well with some. For those fans of Dylan, and even those who do not know much, this film offers a myriad experiences. It stands a terrific companion piece to Martin Scorsese’s brilliant documentary No Direction Home. For anyone saying this is nothing but pompous art house cinema, think again. This is a bravely poetic film that should be recognized for the art it is. This is currently hard to find on a limited release basis, but go the extra mile if you can.
