Folk singer Bob Dylan is a man of many faces. He’s lived many different lives, and he’s taken on many personae. Or at least that’s what writer/director Todd Haynes demonstrates in his art-house Dylan bio-drama, I’m Not There. Using six different actors, Haynes creates seven different characters, meant to depict different aspects of the enigmatic singer/songwriter’s life. For instance, there’s Woody (Marcus Carl Franklin), the young boy who rides the rails. There’s Robbie (Heath Ledger), the actor. And there’s Jude (Cate Blanchett), the worn-out addict.
Sound confusing? Well…it is. Of course, if you’re a Dylan fanatic, you may find something to hold onto in I’m Not There. You might find some fascinating little insights. For everyone else, though, it could very well be the most perplexing two hours and 15 minutes of your life.
While I can definitely respect and appreciate the attempt—and I can see the film for the creative, artistic work that it is—it fails to get its message across (if, in fact, there is one). Often, with films of biographic nature, there’s some sort of a story that plays out. And even if you didn’t know anything about the subject when you walked into the theater, you’ll walk out having learned something—and, in many cases (or, at least, in the best of cases), you’ll find yourself wanting to know more. But in I’m Not There, it’s hard to figure out what’s true and what came straight out of Haynes’s imagination. And when it’s over, it’s unlikely that you’ll know anything more about Dylan than you did when you walked in—except, perhaps, that he’s a complex and mysterious character.
At the same time, though, I’m Not There is an intriguing film. It doesn’t really tell a story—and it skips back and forth through time (and, thus, from character to character)—but there’s still something strangely poetic about it. While I had no clue what was going on through most of it, it still held my attention. Of course, that’s mostly due to Blanchett, who gives a brilliant performance. While the cast, in general, is impressive, Blanchett definitely stands out. She easily overcomes the challenge of being a female playing a male character—and she excels in the role. In fact, that could be why her character, Jules, gets the most screen time—because she is, by far, the most compelling of the six actors.
Despite its intriguing moments—and Blanchett’s brilliant performance—though, I’m Not There is far from a must-see for general, mainstream audiences. If you enjoy an artistic yet obscure indie from time to time, you’ll be able to appreciate its eccentricities. But if you’re just interested in learning more about Bob Dylan, you’d be better off renting a documentary.
DVD Review:
When I popped I’m Not There into my DVD player, I was looking for answers—some insight or clarification that would make everything make sense. Somewhere, in those two discs filled with several hours of material, I figured I’d find some explanation.
In putting together the DVD of I’m Not There, writer/director Todd Haynes didn’t leave anything out. Of course, there are the standard features—like a commentary, some trailers, and a few deleted scenes. But there’s a whole lot more—from coverage of the red carpet at the premiere to a feature on the music. There’s also a whole bunch of stuff to read—from brief, text-only descriptions of the characters to reprints of articles about the movie to information about Dylan himself, including timelines, discographies, and more.
Possibly the most insightful feature, however, is A Conversation with Todd Haynes. Through a series of clips from various interviews, Haynes discusses his vision for the movie and the filmmaking process. The interviews cover everything from the concept to the casting—and they offer a few other tidbits, too.
Did the features make me understand the movie? Nope. But while some of the features are fluffy extras, many of them actually offer all kinds of new insights—into both the movie and Dylan’s life. So whether you’re a Dylan fan or just an interested outsider, you’re sure to walk away with a new appreciation for both the man and the movie.