I'm Not There

by Ari

Inspired by the music and “many lives” of Bob Dylan, Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There is a fascinating and thoroughly spectacular portrait of the enigmatic musician and an imaginative, brilliant exploration of the unknown, dazzling possibilities that exist in the realm of art. This may very well be the most original American film since David Lynch’s masterful Mulholland Drive, reshaping and analyzing the concept of the biopic with an experimental, avant-garde flavor comparable to the international giants of the 1960’s. Part Richard Lester, part Federico Fellini, I’m Not There radiantly defies genre convention with every sequence, every performance, every image. I thought it was surprising that Anton Corbijn managed to break into his own form and style with his Ian Curtis biopic Control, but I didn’t expect anything like it to happen again so soon. Todd Haynes has taken that artistic freedom and created a vital work of cinema, something for people to celebrate and dissect.

I suppose it makes sense that a film about Bob Dylan would have to find some crazy, inspired way of telling his story, but what Haynes has done here should surprise and impress even the most eccentric of filmgoers. This is remarkable filmmaking in every respect, so full passion and daring and ambition. It’s exhausting to even begin to organize your thoughts about it once you leave the theater - the effect of the film is too dizzyingly mad to properly handle at first. Six actors portray the different phases in Dylan’s life, from “poet, prophet, fake and outlaw”, and once you see how well these actors perform their roles it makes Haynes' stylistic choice seem so perfectly sensible. The entire film is about questioning the nature of this legendary musician and artist, and as one of his alter-ego’s states, “most of the time I don’t know”.

Dylan is as much a mystery to me after this film as he was before it (although I admit to not being as knowledgable about his life as some of his more ardent fans), but I believe the point of the film isn’t to make him more understandable or identifiable or normal, but to present exactly what he is and how glorious and challenging that is. Is it possible to understand the depths of a person who constantly reinvents himself as an artist? A person who struggles to even understand himself? The film is just as interested in examining the image of Bob Dylan as it is his heart and soul. The way Haynes presents his view is a stroke of narrative genius.

Christian Bale portrays him at the folk singer stage and then later on after he converts to Christianity. His transition alone is incredible to watch and Bale gives one of his best performances. Heath Ledger represents the artist-turned-celebrity as an actor who plays Bale’s character in a major Hollywood movie. This story examines a more personal side to Dylan’s life with family and children. He falls in love with a beautiful french artist played by the sensational Charlotte Gainsbourg and struggles to keep things stable under the pressures of fame and fortune. Marcus Carl Franklin is a young boy who introduces himself as Woody Guthrie, complete with his guitar case that states “this machine kills fascists”. He drifts from one family to the next, a fugitive on the run. In one of the film’s most powerful moments, the boy visits the real Guthrie in the hospital, tears streaming down his cheeks before playing him a song.

Ben Whishaw provides much of the exposition and insight into the character through a lengthy interview/interrogation of sorts. He discusses his life, his art, his feelings. “I accept chaos...but I don’t know if accepts me”. In one of the most surreal aspects of the film, Richard Gere plays Dylan as Billy the Kid in hiding. Gere’s sequences are the most difficult to pin down and could signify a number of things depending on how you view the musician’s life. Obviously Bob Dylan had a supporting role in Peckinpah’s Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid, but there’s something much deeper and contemplative about these moments, something I have to see again before I can properly express how I feel. Last but not least, there’s Cate Blanchett as Bob Dylan during the period when he shocked and angered fans by switching from acoustic to electric guitar. Blanchett has the juiciest bits of the film, from the rowdy concerts in London to hanging out with Allen Ginsburg (played by David Cross) to causing trouble at hip, swinging ‘60s parties. Blanchett’s performance is instantly classic, her most entertaining work since appearing as “Cousins” Cate and Shelly in Jarmusch’s Coffee and Cigarettes. These different “lives” of Bob Dylan are masterfully intercut.

I’m Not There is a breathtaking film, easily one of the year’s most intriguing, wild, refreshing and essential experiences.