Saturday, February 22, 2025

A Complete Unknown

"I bargained for salvation, and she gave me a lethal dose."
Bob Dylan ("Shelter from the Storm")

Modern-day biographical films about musicians embrace a great man theory of music. That is, like the great man theory approach to history, in which some believe we can understand who we are through the examination of "great men" (powerful, transformation individuals—usually men—who were immensely talented), in biographical films, music can be understood by the musical contributions of a few exceptionally talented and famous individuals. Unfortunately, this great man approach has become hackneyed. Yes, it's impressive to watch Joaquin Phoenix become Johnny Cash or Jamie Foxx become Ray Charles, but both films (though fine) were so predictable that they became low-hanging fruit for a parody film like Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story

Some films (like Love and Mercy or Rocketman) have tried to be slightly different to avoid those pitfalls, and they mostly worked (though neither are great films), which brings me to A Complete Unknown, the James Mangold-directed film about the early years of Bob Dylan's career. A Complete Unknown doesn't try to rock the boat, though it simultaneously evades a check-the-box approach to these kinds of stories. We do see the story of young Bob Dylan, a great man of music (arguably the greatest—no other musician has an Oscar, ten Grammys, the Presidential Medal of Freedom, a Pulitzer, and even the Nobel Prize), and we see Timothée Chalamet deliver yet another fantastic performance in which he looks and sounds just like him. Yet fortunately for us (and perhaps mainly because it's Bob Dylan and not a musician whose life was a little more destructive), there are no scenes of him struggling with drug addiction, no scene where he gets so rich and famous that he abuses people, and no inevitable fall and glorious comeback. The biggest conflict in this movie seems to be him wanting to play an electric guitar at a folk festival.

That moment, of course, is not a simple footnote (for some reason) but a moment contentious enough that it has it's own Wikipedia page and has frequently been cited as one of the most controversial music moments in recent history. Mangold is a talented enough director that he keeps these moments intriguing, even if you know what's coming, and with an active camera that flies up and back to show us the practically rabid folk fans throwing things at Dylan and calling him Judas, all the while he's unfazed by it in the most Bob Dylan way, Mangold and his cinematographer Phedon Papamichael would make Martin Scorsese proud.

It's not simply Mangold and Papamichael who deserve credit for such a feat. Much of A Complete Unknown is a compelling watch because of its actors, especially Edward Norton as Pete Seeger, Monica Barbaro as Joan Baez, and of course Chalamet as Dylan. Chalamat in particular seems to perfectly incapable of bad acting; in just this past year, he was the star of both A Complete Unknown and Dune: Part II, and the two films collectively have thirteen Oscar nominations this year. The last time Chalamet was nominated was seven years ago for Call Me by Your Name, and one could certainly make an argument that he should have won then. (He lost to a much more theatrical and make-up-intense Gary Oldman in Darkest Hour.) 

Anyway, in A Complete Unknown, Chalamet, Norton, and Barbaro are all worthy of their nominations due to their very impressive singing and instrumental skills. Chalamet in particular gets that unique sound of Dylan's (what Jason Kelly described as a pinched Okie sound that mimicked Woody Guthrie's) and makes it all look easy. When he sings to a hospitalized Guthrie (played in the film by Scoot McNairy), it's moving in a sentimental way when someone meets their hero and it goes just the way it should; when he plays in the studio, his voice varies between reserved and liberated (based on the character's growing comfort and musical evolution). And maybe it was all in my head, but given that he's smoking in virtually every scene, it seems like he was able to incorporate the impact smoking has on the human voice in a way that doesn't come across as painfully obvious and forced (like Bradley Cooper was as Leonard Bernstein in Maestro). But Barbaro and Norton sure can sing, too, and the most charming scene in the film (or at least the one that doesn't involve Bob Dylan) is when Norton as Seeger leads his audience in a joyful rendition of "Wimoweh." 

Based on Elijah Wald's 2015 book Dylan Goes Electric!, A Complete Unknown avoids some of the aforementioned pitfalls of the typical biographical film about the great men of music by just focusing on his rise from 1961 to 1965. It's all a very romantic view of a struggling musician; when we first meet Dylan, he's crossing over into New York from New Jersey in the back of a stranger's car, jotting away in his notebook some notes for songs. He does it again the morning after spending a night in the home of folk hero Bob Seeger's home. Heavily promoted by Seeger as the man who can bring folk music to the masses, Dylan struggles to break through, but once he does, the rest is history. He sings at the 1963 March on Washington, courts Joan Baez (Barbaro), becomes the voice of a generation, and struggles with accepting his new-found fame.

Dylan enthusiasts whose favorite Dylan period is those early years will likely be thrilled with what they hear. A lot of those beloved tunes are included: "Highway 61 Revisited," "Mr. Tambourine Man," Girl from the North Country," "Blowin' in the Wind," "They Times They Are a-Changin," "It Ain't Me, Babe," "Maggie's Farm," "Song to Woody," "Like a Rolling Stone," and others are all there. Whether or not this film has much appeal to audience members who are not Dylan fans or musicologists or anything like that is something I'm not sure I can answer. Still, it has grossed about $100 million since it was released last December, and it has eight Oscar nominations, though (despite a superb performance by Chalamet) it is the underdog in just about all of them. One way or the other, it is a recommendable watch.


My favorite Bob Dylan songs:

Note: This list was compiled in 2020 during the pandemic. I suspect the order would be slightly different if I were to devote more time to reorganizing it these days.

50. Jokerman
49. With God on Our Side
48. Bob Dylan's 115th Dream
47. Song to Woody
46. Sad-Eyed Lady of the Lowlands
45. Heart of Mine
44. Saved
43. Billy 1
42. Love Minus Zero/No Limit
41. Mozambique
40. Main Title Theme (Billy) 
39. Tangled Up in Blue
38. Shelter from the Storm
37. House of the Risin' Sun
36. Outlaw Blues
35. Baby, Let Me Follow You Down
34. Ballad of Hollis Brown
33. I Want You
32. Maggie's Farm
31. Buckets of Rain
30. Shot of Love
29. All I Really Want to Do
28. Queen Jane Approximately
27. From a Buick 6
26. Masters of War
25. Wigwam
24. Girl from a North Country
23. Subterranean Homesick Blues
22. Ballad of a Thing Man
21. Visions of Johanna
20. Forever Young
19. Things Have Changed
18. The Man in Me
17. If Not for You
16. Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues
15. Hurricane
14. It Takes a Lot to Laugh, It Takes a Lot to Cry
13. Highway 61 Revisited 
12. Desolation Row
11. Tombstone Blues
10. It Ain't Me, Babe
9. Mr. Tambourine Man
8. Blowin' in the Wind
7. The Mighty Quinn
6. Lay, Lady, Lay
5. All Along the Watchtower 
4. Rainy Day Woman #12 & 35
3. Knockin' on Heaven's Door
2. Like a Rolling Stone
1. The Times They Are A-Changin' 

Honorable Mentions: Chimes of Freedom, Emotionally Yours, Make You Feel My Love, Tweeter and the Monkey Man, Highlands, When the Deal Goes Down, Black Rider

Sunday, February 16, 2025

Saturday Night

The past fifty years have been an incredibly rapid rise and sustained run for Lorne Michaels, the man who went from juggling a thousand different problems in the hour running up to his iconic show's debut to telling Taylor Swift that he doesn't negotiate with terrorists as he tossed popcorn into his mouth after she demanded his staff cut a sketch making fun of her. Among the following problems Saturday Night Live creator and executive producer Michaels was dealing with way back in 1975 (according to last year's Saturday Night about the run-up to the first-ever episode of what was then called Saturday Night) are the following: the runtime was too long, his host (George Carlin, played here by Matthew Rhys) was snorting cocaine and angry about the sketches he was supposed to appear in, his actors were fighting (and one, John Belushi, played by Matt Wood, wouldn't even sign his contract), the network executives (mainly in the form of David Tebet, played by Willem Dafoe) were breathing down his neck hoping he failed, and even Johnny Carson (voiced here by Jeff Witzke) was making threatening phone calls warning him not to get ahead of himself. "It's my fucking network, it's my fucking night" the late-night icon hisses at him. Needless to say, this last one is one of the film's exaggerations.

Saturday Night, exaggerated or not, can all seem like a lionizing official portrait of the Canadian most Americans have adored for fifty years (or more like forty-five, since he had noting to do with the show from 1981-1984), but who can blame director Jason Reitman and co-writer Gil Kenan? Just think of all the show has done: It has survived five very different decades through evolving beliefs about comedic taste (winning eighty-four Emmy Awards and three Peabody Awards along the way), it has implanted catchphrases into our collective pop culture minds and practically broken political stars (to the point where now, surely most Americans think that Sarah Palin actually said she could see Russia from her house), and it has launched the movie careers of dozens of stars. Ten years ago, just before the fortieth-anniversary show, Rolling Stone released their comprehensive list of all of the cast members in the show's history ranked (with Season 11 cast member Robert Downey Jr. coming in dead last). Just look at some of the names in the top twenty: future Senator Al Franken (played in Saturday Night by Taylor Gray), Maya Rudolph, Adam Sandler, Chris Farley, Kristen Wiig, Bill Hader, Will Ferrell, Dana Carvey, Chevy Chase, Gilda Radner, Amy Poehler, Phil Hartman, Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Mike Myers, Tina Fey, Eddie Murphy (who, it should be pointed out, was a star during the Dick Ebersol years, not the Michaels years), and Belushi. Lorne Michaels deserves all the praise by this point.

The story of the very early days of the show have been told to death at this point, between various NBC specials and the highly recommendable oral history Live From New York: An Uncensored History of Saturday Night Live, and yet the anecdotes in the film still feel fresh. They're all there, like stand-up comedian and future cast member Billy Crystal fretting about the potential cutting of his number, Andy Kaufman's post-modern "Mighty Mouse" lip-sync, Jim Henson's muppets (the worst part of those early episodes—I don't think the audience laughed even once), and Chase's dreams of bigger things. (It's worth noting that both Kaufman and Henson are both portrayed in very amusing performances by Nicholas Braun.) If you really know your SNL history, though, you also will know which ones they are exaggerating in the movie, like the physical fight between Chase and Belushi. Though there was a rivalry between the two, the real legendary fistfight actually broke out the following season between host Chevy Chase and the man who replaced him: Bill Murray.    

Opening with the cast members' auditions (that is, the actors playing them), we meet the original players: Aykroyd (Dylan O'Brien), Belushi, Chase (Cory Michael Smith), Jane Curtain (Kim Matula), Garrett Morris (Lamorne Morris), Loraine Newman (Emily Fairn), and Gilda Radney (Ella Hunt). Lorne Michaels is played by Gabriel Labelle, whom you may have seen in The Fabelmans. Despite all the problems, Michaels can rely on the support of fellow producer Dick Ebersol (who ran the show in the early Eighties after Michaels had briefly left and who is played here by Cooper Hoffman) and Rosie Shuster, a writer for the show and then-wife of Michaels, who is played by Rachel Sennott. Also appearing in the film is Jon Baptise, who plays Billy Preston and who scored the film. 

The long takes, the rapid dialogue, the multiple storylines, and the high stakes can make the whole thing feel like it's from Aaron Sorkin, but Reitman and his team make it work. This is chiefly because it's so fun to watch the actors, especially J.K. Simmons as Milton Bearle, a legend of NBC past (and present, circa the 1970s, I guess) who shows up and taunts those he views as beneath him, like Chase, who can't seem to not pick a fight with anyone around him. (Pretty true; read the aforementioned tell-all book and/or anything ever written or said about Chevy Chase.) 

As for the other actors, the ones portraying the Not Ready for Primetime Players do an effective job of portraying those iconic figures without appearing to be a, well, SNL impersonation. Smith captures Chases's charm and comedic timing but also his arrogance and impertinence; Lamorne Morris demonstrates the exceptional talent of Garrett Morris (no relation) while feeling distant from his younger (and white) cast mates; and Wood, while showing us all those eyebrow raises and animalistic chaos, still gets across to the audience that this man was a superstar who unfortunately was destined for tragedy. The best performance, however, is the lead, LaBelle, who looks and sounds the least like the person he's playing among the cast but whose sincerity and drive really make one want to root for the debut show's inevitable success. Like George Lucas on the set of Star Wars, he's the captain of something truly great that apparently only he can see. As one crew member (Robert Wuhl as the director Dave Wilson) mockingly tells him, "I think I can speak for the entire crew when I say that this is exactly where we want to be on Saturday night!" In the script by Reitman and Kenan, everybody (for the most part) has something to do; it's not simply the Lorne Michaels Show. For example, Dan Aykroyd wants a more specific type of gun for the sketch he's in, Belushi doesn't want to wear the bee suit, and Jim Henson can't understand why everyone is putting his muppets into compromising (and violent) positions. This is all with just an hour or so to go.   

One likely problem is that while it's a fun watch, but it's not particularly funny. There are a few decent one-liners that may make one chuckle, but that's it. This is ironic given that it's about one of the funniest shows of all time. It also will not have the staying power of Saturday Night Live. On a budget of about $30 million, it didn't make even half of that at the box office last year, despite it being a film about a show heading into a highly anticipated fiftieth anniversary (which is only a few hours away as of this writing). Still, it's a must for those who have at least any memories of the show, especially those who were around in 1975 to see it from the beginning. For its younger members who know it mainly for its viral moments (like "Black Jeopardy with Tom Hanks" or "Sean Spicer's Press Conference"), it could serve as proper education for those who don't have time for a lengthy oral history or a Vulture subscription.