A Chalamet-Charged Dylan Tale That Strums the Right Chords—Mostly
When A Complete Unknown rolled into theaters on December 25, 2024, it arrived with the weight of Bob Dylan’s mythos and the buzz of Timothée Chalamet’s Oscar-worthy transformation. Directed by James Mangold, this Searchlight Pictures release—now streaming on VOD as of February 2025—chronicles Dylan’s meteoric rise from a Minnesota dreamer to the folk-rock revolutionary who shocked Newport in 1965. With a stacked cast including Edward Norton, Monica Barbaro, Elle Fanning, and Boyd Holbrook, it’s less a biopic and more a lyrical snapshot of a cultural pivot. After soaking it in on the big screen, I’m left impressed but not fully converted. Here’s why this Dylan riff hits high notes—and where it stumbles.
A Folk Poet’s Electric Origin Story
The film opens in 1961, with a 19-year-old Bob Dylan (Chalamet) drifting into New York’s Greenwich Village, guitar in hand and Woody Guthrie on his mind. His pilgrimage to a Jersey hospital to meet the ailing folk legend (Scoot McNairy)—where Pete Seeger (Norton) just happens to be—sets the stage. From there, it’s a whirlwind: Dylan charms the folk scene, woos Joan Baez (Barbaro), spars with girlfriend Sylvie Russo (Fanning, channeling Suze Rotolo), and pens anthems like “Blowin’ in the Wind” amid the Cuban Missile Crisis. The climax? That infamous 1965 Newport Folk Festival set, where he plugs in, goes electric, and flips the folk world upside down.
Mangold, co-writing with Jay Cocks and drawing from Elijah Wald’s Dylan Goes Electric!, sidesteps the cradle-to-grave biopic trap. Instead, he zooms in on 1961-1965, capturing Dylan’s evolution from earnest troubadour to enigmatic rebel. The choice pays off early—the first half hums with energy. Chalamet’s Dylan is a wiry bundle of ambition and aloofness, strumming “Song to Woody” with a reverence that morphs into restless innovation. Scenes like his March on Washington performance or a tense elevator chat with Bob Neuwirth (Will Harrison) crackle with authenticity, bolstered by Phedon Papamichael’s gritty cinematography and a soundtrack that lets full songs breathe, not just snippets.
Chalamet’s Star Turn and a Stellar Ensemble
Let’s talk Timothée Chalamet—he’s the film’s beating heart. Channeling Dylan’s nasal twang, twitchy charisma, and cryptic edge, he’s not just mimicking; he’s inhabiting. Whether crooning “The Times They Are a-Changin’” or snarling “play it loud” at Newport, Chalamet’s performance is electric—pun intended. His eight Oscar nods (and counting) feel earned; he makes Dylan a prickly genius you can’t look away from, even when he’s pushing everyone away.
The supporting cast doesn’t slack either. Monica Barbaro’s Joan Baez is a revelation—her crystalline voice and fiery chemistry with Chalamet steal scenes, especially their duets. Edward Norton’s Pete Seeger is the soulful mentor, radiating decency as Dylan’s folk roots fray. Elle Fanning’s Sylvie brings quiet heartbreak, her tears a counterpoint to Dylan’s detachment. Boyd Holbrook’s Johnny Cash pops in briefly, urging Dylan to “make some noise,” though his role’s too small to shine. It’s a who’s-who of the ’60s scene—Phil Ochs, Dave Van Ronk, Peter Yarrow all cameo—turning the Village into a living jukebox.
Where the Melody Falters
For all its highs, A Complete Unknown hits sour notes. The second half, post-Newport buildup, loses steam. Mangold’s focus on Dylan’s public persona—aloof, self-mythologizing—leaves his inner life a cipher. Why does he pivot to electric? Is it rebellion, evolution, or spite? The film shrugs, leaning on Chalamet’s charisma over depth.
The script’s safe streak doesn’t help. Unlike Todd Haynes’ kaleidoscopic I’m Not There, Mangold plays it straight, dodging Dylan’s circus tales and personal quirks for a polished narrative. The Newport climax—electric set, booing crowd—should roar, but it’s oddly muted, more reverent than raw. At 141 minutes, it drags in spots; Sylvie’s Europe trip fallout and Seeger’s court hearing feel like detours. Some call it “overlong and sluggish,” and I can’t disagree—tighter cuts could’ve kept the tempo.
A Visual and Sonic Feast
Visually, it’s a treat. Mangold recreates ’60s New York and Newport with uncanny detail—think cigarette haze, beatnik dives, and folk fest fervor. The sound design—harmonicas wailing, amps buzzing—pairs with a killer soundtrack (Dylan originals, Baez covers) to make you feel like you’re there. It’s no surprise it snagged Golden Globe wins and Critics Choice nods; the craft’s impeccable, even if the story doesn’t always match.
Dylan’s Myth, Mangold’s Lens
Thematically, A Complete Unknown wrestles with art versus expectation. Dylan’s shift from folk savior to rock agitator mirrors his refusal to be boxed in—a middle finger to purists. Yet, the film doesn’t probe deep enough into that tension, settling for a surface skim. It’s reverent yet frustrating, celebrating Dylan’s impact without cracking his shell. For superfans, it’s a love letter; for casuals, it might feel like a pretty karaoke session.
Verdict: A Rolling Stone Worth a Spin
I’m landing at 3.5 out of 5 for A Complete Unknown. It’s a slick, Chalamet-charged ode to Dylan’s early years, with standout performances and a vibe that captures the ’60s shift. But its conventional core and reluctance to dig into Dylan’s psyche keep it from masterpiece status. Rotten Tomatoes’ 91% feels generous—audience scores (95% Popcornmeter) align more with its crowd-pleasing polish.
For Dylan buffs or Chalamet fans, it’s a theater must—the music and mood demand a big screen. Casual viewers might wait for streaming; it’s engaging but not essential. A Complete Unknown doesn’t unravel the man, but it sure makes you feel his shadow. Drift along with it—you’ll enjoy the ride, even if the destination’s a bit foggy.
