'A Complete Unkown'—Dylan Plays Us All Like A Fiddle, Yet Again

This movie is a figment of Dylan’s imagination, a fabrication, a fraud—just like Dylan himself.

Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures

The new Bob Dylan movie, “A Complete Unknown,” stirred many emotions in me.

But there was one line in the movie from actor Timothée Chalamet, who portrayed Dylan, that summed up the entire film for me.

“People make up their past…They remember what they want. They forget the rest.”

That, my friends, describes “A Complete Unknown” perfectly.

This movie is a figment of Dylan’s imagination, a fabrication, a fraud—just like Dylan himself. According to multiple reports, Dylan read through the script, line-by-line, with director James Mangold. And Jeff Rosen served as a producer on the movie.

According to production notes for “A Complete Unknown,” provided to the media by Searchlight Pictures:

“Jeff Rosen has spent the past 35 years as President of the Bob Dylan Music Company, which coordinates the professional interests of one of the world’s preeminent cultural figures. He has produced feature films and documentaries, most recently Rolling Thunder Revue: A Bob Dylan Story by Martin Scorsese, as well as the acclaimed 18-volume Bob Dylan Bootleg Series on Columbia Records. He has also worked as a consultant in the music and technology worlds. A three-time Grammy award winner, Rosen was named by Hollywood Reporter as one of the top deal makers of 2020 for orchestrating the sale of Bob Dylan’s music publishing catalog to Universal Music Group. “

So Bob and his team had their fingers all over this sweet potato pie. Ya dig? To me, that means that Bob was the engineer of this locomotive, and as with many of his past ventures, could only amuse himself by fucking with us, big time.

I am 210 percent sure that Dylan recognized “A Complete Unknown” for the glaring fraud that it is, and he let it go to market because he thought it would be funny to fuck with us—yet again. (In Bob Dylan voice) “Hey suckers! Go see this movie about me! It’s the real deal!” (evil snicker, also in Bob Dylan’s voice).

Shame on Bob? Shame on us.

During the two-hour-and-20-minute running time of “A Complete Unknown,” the most compelling thing the author of this review saw was the hallway he traversed to get to the cinema men’s room. Trippy, isn’t it?

So, back to Dylan the Fraud. Riddle me this: Who is Bob Dylan?

The kid from Hibbing, Minnesota, with the guitar slung over his shoulder in Greenwich Village?

“A Song and Dance Man?”

The Woodstock, NY, icon, performing with musicians who were much more talented than him, who later formed The Band?

The guy who sings with a velvet voice on “Lay, Lady Lay?”

The born-again Christian?

Mr. Rolling Thunder Revue ,who didn’t have any close friends to be honest with him and tell him that his caked-on white makeup was absurd and he was embarrassing himself?

The zombie-grump from the “We Are the World” recording session?

The outlaw slinging a six-string while commanding the universe and performing with the Grateful Dead?

The musician who finally figures out who he is with the albums, “Infidels” and “Empire Burlesque?”

The wanna-be cowboy with those kooky pants with the white stripes down the side?

Lucky Wilbury?

The guy who stood on the stage at Madison Square Garden on Nov. 19, 2001, two months and change after 9/11, and brought me to tears by opening with, “Wait for the Light to Shine?”

The guy who did the same to me at Saratoga Performing Arts Center in New York, on Sept. 4, 1993, when he performed a solo acoustic version of “Shooting Star?”

Bob Dylan is all of these people, and none of them. He has spent his entire musical career leading us all on a wild goose chase and calling into question his identity and our ability to keep up with him. I have seen Dylan perform many, many, many times. I once stood about 15 feet from him, while he was watching the great Levon Helm perform, also at SPAC. And what I’ve learned is that Bob Dylan LOVES to fuck with us all. I once heard someone say that Dylan achieved so much in such a short span of time that he had nothing left to do, to amuse himself, than to fuck with us.

And this movie is yet another example of that.

And please let me say that I’m dying to know how the producers of “A Complete Unknown” wrangled from Disney a tiny “Death Star” prop to be used as a microphone at the Newport Folk Festival? Was it easier than bulls-eye-ing womp-rats in a T-16 back home on Tatooine? In any event, bravissimo!

Courtesy of Searchlight Pictures

I will say that there were three things I enjoyed about this film:

• Charlie Tahan’s portrayal of the great Al Kooper.

• Will Harrison’s portrayal of the great Bobby Neuwirth.

• The scene in which Bob is recording “Highway 61” and blows that kooky whistle.

But the remaining two-hours and 14-minutes of this disaster of a film? Oy vey, as my Irish-American mother would always say.

How would I describe “A Complete Unknown?”

Tedious.

A two-hour-and-20-minute film that was an hour and 20 minutes too long.

Sappy.

Sloppy.

Soapy.

Tedious.

Way too dramatic.

As far away from real and authentic as cinema can be.

Embarrassing for all who were involved in its production, except for Charlie Tahan and Will Harrison.

Tedious.

One-dimensional.

Fabricated.

Detached from reality.

Tedious.

Shall I continue?

I’d also like to remind Timothée Chalamet, a poser of the first order IMHO! (as the kids say these days! LOL SMH L8R! POSER!), that as far as this non-actor (me) is concerned, actors are supposed to act, as in their facial expressions should change according to the dialogue, the scene, the other characters, the emotions of the story and the circumstances. How an actor can maintain the same facial expression for more than two hours, in a story that spans years, is yet one more example of how bad an actor Chalamet is, what a fraud he is and what a total train wreck “A Complete Unknown” has proven itself to be.

If you’re trying to tell me that Chalamet saw this album cover, and DIDN’T decide he was going to maintain this poker face for the entire film, then let me tell you that I’ve got a bridge to sell you. It starts in Brooklyn, crosses the East River and ends in Manhattan. I’ll give it to you for a fair price. Honest!

Hollywood can keep their Bob Dylan. And Bob Dylan, for that matter, can keep his Bob Dylan. I’ve got my Bob Dylan, from MSG in 2001; SPAC in 1993; and SPAC in 2008. And for my money, my Bob Dylan is the only real one of the bunch.

Or is he?