I’m Not there, the Fourth Time Around Thu. Nov 29th, 07
Well, the film’s out. The new biopic on Bob Dylan (I’m Not There) wherein a handful of juxtaposing actors play fanciful flights on the legends surrounding Dylan. I’ll say this much: if you’re familiar with Dylan to the point that you know what he looked like in 1962, 1965, 1973 (amongst other times), then you won’t be confused by the shifting in character names (no one is actually called Bob Dylan in the film) and actors’ faces. Otherwise, you could become impatient and think it all a sore affectation. But I think the shifting works to profound effect. The film is endowed with a sublime gift of storytelling; the myriad foldings of ideas and myths in the film allow for the impact of the film to be more than just a fan piece on Dylan by Dylan though I don’t think I can delve into it now. And the fact that Dylan cowrote the script (I forget the clever pseudonym he uses) makes many of the lines in the film quite moving, I think.
BTW, Cate Blanchette as Dylan is a fucking bad ass though it’s tough to say who does the best job — everyone in the film is acting their asses off.
Oh yeah, the music is simply wonderful. Much of the soundtrack is backed by the Million Dollar Bashers, consisting of Sonic Youth stars Lee Ranaldo and Steve Shelley, Wilco guitarist Nels Cline, Television guitarist Tom Verlaine, Dylan bassist Tony Garnier, guitarist Smokey Hormel and keyboardist John Medeski. That’s a superband.
Here’s a few glimpses of the soundtrack:
I’m Not There.mp3 — Sonic Youth offer an instantly classic version of this obscure (until now) Dylan tune. Sing along, “She’s gone like a rainbow…”
Fourth Time Around.mp3 — Yo La Tengo give listeners a near overdose of lovely sound in this authoritative cover. I can’t imagine anyone else doing this must justice to this wondrous Dylan tune.
Going to Acapulco.mp3 — Jim James and Calexico do this song with a grace that is silencing. I love this song. I quickly fell in love with Dylan’s version years ago, so much that I learned the song and used to sing it to myself, on repeat. There’s something about the tone and melody of the song (in both versions) that combines a feeling of aching pain and beautiful comfort. I’ve often used the line, “It’s a wicked life, but what the hell,” like a mantra to aide in lasting the day, and there’s a charming sentiment in the story told in the song that I like returning to.
Ballad of a Thin Man.mp3 — Stephen Malkmus & The Million Dollar Bashers. Enough said.
