By the time the lights fade on A Complete Unknown, James Mangold’s bold retelling of Bob Dylan’s early career, you’ll have heard classics like “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “Like a Rolling Stone” performed with a raw immediacy that feels both timeless and shockingly new. Front and center is Timothée Chalamet, whose portrayal of Dylan in the key 1961 to 1965 period proves he is an actor of almost unlimited range, and a serious contender for Best Actor at this year’s Oscars.
Mangold, returning to the biopic terrain he explored so well in Walk the Line, co-writes with Jay Cocks, adapting Elijah Wald’s Dylan Goes Electric! into a spellbinding odyssey through folk’s heyday and the birth of Dylan’s rock persona. The narrative follows a restless Dylan, fresh off the bus from Minnesota, stumbling into the coffeehouses of Greenwich Village. There, he dazzles promoters and purists alike with his sharp wit and poetic swirl of lyrics, only to grow disillusioned when the movement around him insists on preserving him as a kind of acoustic folk messiah.
Electrifying Performances and a Magnetic Ensemble
Chalamet’s Dylan radiates both innocence and insolence. He is confident in the bold transformation he’s about to unleash, swapping acoustic guitars for electric ones, yet also quietly distressed by his responsibility as the “voice of a generation.” Chalamet’s greatest trick is capturing Dylan’s dual nature: one minute a puckish kid charmed by the strum of an old Gibson, and the next a scowling superstar whose success both thrills and terrifies him.
Monica Barbaro delivers an equally nuanced performance as Joan Baez. Her resonant soprano, clearly honed for the role, complements Dylan’s rougher style, and their acoustic duet of “Blowin’ in the Wind” has a fragile beauty that lingers long after the scene ends. Edward Norton is heartbreakingly earnest as Pete Seeger, the folksy mentor whose devotion to musical purity cannot quite align with Dylan’s craving for fresh horizons. Norton navigates Seeger’s parental warmth and his frustrated disapproval so skillfully that the climactic moments at the Newport Folk Festival feel all the more wrenching.
Meanwhile, Elle Fanning is quietly compelling as Sylvie Russo, a fictionalized stand-in for Suze Rotolo, who famously appeared on the Freewheelin’ album cover. Her character, practical yet star-struck, offers a grounding perspective. As she witnesses Dylan drifting from one persona to the next, she comes face to face with a man whose devotion to reinvention eclipses all else. Boyd Holbrook’s turn as Johnny Cash provides a counterpoint of laid-back charisma and homespun swagger.
Chalamet’s Oscar-Worthy Performance
Amid such accomplished performances, it is Chalamet who truly astonishes. Dylan’s signature snarl, nasal inflections, and seemingly offhand stage banter are all done with uncanny accuracy, yet never so fussily that they feel like hollow mimicry. Chalamet sings and plays guitar with impressive fidelity, capturing the raw edges of Dylan’s early style without slipping into parody. On “Like a Rolling Stone,” he conjures both the fury and the vulnerability of a cultural icon on the cusp of a seismic shift. It is a performance brimming with lived-in detail and surprising humor, and it stands as one of this year’s strongest awards contenders.
What is more, A Complete Unknown does not flinch from Dylan’s ambiguities and contradictions. Mangold and Cocks craft a portrait of a man who molds his identity as restlessly as he does his music. There is authenticity in the way Chalamet reveals Dylan’s self-defense mechanisms, withdrawal, sarcasm, dark glasses indoors, yet you sense a guarded artist who never stops searching for the next verse.
A Fresh Take on Familiar Mythology
Historical liberties abound. The infamous “Judas!” heckle, actually from a 1966 UK performance, is transplanted to Newport in 1965. Likewise, invented or condensed encounters among Dylan, Seeger, and ailing folk giant Woody Guthrie serve the drama more than the strict timeline. Yet these narrative choices mostly work in favor of the film’s theme: a young troubadour rewriting himself and his entire musical era in real time.
Visually, A Complete Unknown is sumptuous. From cramped Greenwich Village basements to wide-angle shots of the Newport stage, Mangold frames Dylan’s journey as both an intimate coming-of-age story and a seismic cultural event. The color palette shifts from smoky browns and grays to vibrant festival scenes buzzing with excitement and dread over what “electric Dylan” might mean for folk orthodoxy.
Conclusion
In the end, A Complete Unknown leaves us with more questions than answers about Bob Dylan, which might be the highest compliment possible for a film about the master of reinvention. As the final credits roll, we have not cracked the enigma of Dylan’s soul, but we have glimpsed the thrill of his transformation. Timothée Chalamet’s mesmerizing, shape-shifting portrayal is central to that thrill, showcasing a rare depth of talent that makes him not just an Oscar hopeful, but also one of his generation’s most captivating actors.
Love him, hate him, or simply find him a mystery, Bob Dylan remains a “complete unknown.” Mangold’s film embraces that enigma and gifts us a leading performance so electric it practically crackles on screen. A well-strummed chord indeed.