The Bob Dylan biopic is finely acted and captures the aspects of the musician impressively, but not the full political power of the songs, finds Jonathan Maunders

A Complete Unknown is an evocative exploration of Bob Dylan’s early career, brought to life by James Mangold’s assured direction. Charting Dylan’s arrival in 1961 New York as an unknown nineteen-year-old from Minnesota, the film follows his meteoric rise over four years, culminating in his controversial performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival.

It was at that festival, armed with an electric guitar, that Dylan defied the purists, shattered the boundaries of folk music, and ignited the burgeoning folk-rock genre that would reshape American music in the second half of the 1960s.

Based on Elijah Wald’s book Dylan Goes Electric!, the film captures Dylan not just as an artist but as a phenomenon. Timothée Chalamet delivers a brilliant performance, avoiding the temptation simply to mimic the musician. Having spent five years mastering Dylan’s distinctive guitar, harmonica, and vocal style, Chalamet’s commitment is evident throughout, especially in the film’s live-recorded musical performances.

Moments like Dylan’s impromptu hospital serenade to Woody Guthrie (hauntingly portrayed by Scoot McNairy) and his electrifying duet with Joan Baez (Monica Barbaro) feel like vivid glimpses of musical history.

Barbaro’s portrayal of Baez is a revelation. Her chemistry with Chalamet shines brightest in their bittersweet duet of ‘It Ain’t Me Babe’, where the tension between them can be heard through every note.

Edward Norton also stands out as Pete Seeger, Dylan’s mentor and a giant of the folk music scene. In one unforgettable moment, an astounded Seeger watches, toothbrush suspended midair, as Dylan casually plays an early version of ‘Girl from the North Country’.

A Complete Unknown captures the way Dylan’s relationships with artist and activist Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning), based on the real-life figure of Suze Rotolo, and Joan Baez, inspired him to write about social issues. Yet, it does little to place this, and the protest-driven folk music revival of the 1960s, within the polarised political context of the period. Without doing so, the viewer is prevented from truly appreciating the radical and subversive power of songs like ‘The Times They Are a-Changin’ and ‘Masters of War’.

For all the film achieves, it keeps Dylan at arm’s length. Chalamet’s portrayal exhibits the charisma and talent but not the person behind the persona. As the film suggests, the shades, the sneer, and the aloof swagger weren’t just stylistic choices; they were armour against the pressures of fame.

Unlike many recent biopics, the film isn’t afraid to show the negative aspects of its subject’s character. This is particularly evident in Dylan’s turbulent personal relationships and is best summarised by Baez’s honest observation: ‘You’re kind of an asshole, Bob’.

With an incredible soundtrack and some brilliant acting performances, A Complete Unknown is both a traditional biopic and a celebration of the artist as an enigma. The film might not peel back many of Bob Dylan’s layers, but it is a captivating depiction of his genius.