I really like the lyrics to this song. I mean, I get that I probably appear to like Dylan’s lyrics all the time, but I really like them in this song. They’re caustic and clever and cogent. Just the refrain itself is a beautiful piece of simple, forceful poetry: “Something is happening here/But you don’t know what it is/Do you, Mr. Jones?”

The song is pretty clearly directed at a music critic, which may seem petty or small-minded of Dylan, particularly since Dylan himself admitted that “Mr. Jones” is a real person who would have been known by name when the song was released (although you have to take anything Dylan said to the press at that time with, like, 87 grains of salt). But it’s not petty. Not at all. Because Mr. Jones isn’t just a music critic—he’s a tastemaker, a peddler, a card-carrying member of the establishment and the status quo.

What’s so great about “Ballad of a Thin Man” is that Mr. Jones doesn’t become just some caricature of the Old Guard to be ridiculed by Bob Dylan, hip new superstar. Mr. Jones is one of Dylan’s most fully realized figures. Like Miss Lonely and the female figure on Blood on the Tracks, we get a real sense of who Mr. Jones is. Indeed, it’s hard not to recognize a bit of Mr. Jones in yourself.*

*I, for one, sometimes cringe at the line, “You’re very well-read, it’s well-known.”

Mr. Jones may be best represented as a music critic, but what he really is at heart is an arbiter of good taste, sent to pass judgment on the value of something new. Dylan’s attack is not on criticism itself—it’s on the notion of sending somebody from one world to evaluate something from another.

Mr. Jones is alienated from the beginning. Everyone he meets in the song is a freak of some kind—a “geek” or a “sword swallower” or a “one-eyed midget.” Mr. Jones may be good at what he does, and he may “have been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books,” but that is of no use to him here. Here, as somebody points out to an incredulous Mr. Jones, he is the freak. 

It’s not simply that Mr. Jones is out of place, but that he ventures out of his comfort zone for the sole purpose of passing judgment. Everything Mr. Jones does is for the purpose of gaining approval or doling it out. He wants to impress people with his looks and how well-read he is, and he wants everything in this new, unknown world explained to him for his benefit. This is what makes him so venal and, in the end, inhuman. As the one-eyed midget tells him, “You’re a cow: Give me some milk or else go home.”

Musically, “Ballad of a Thin Man” is eerie and menacing. It feels completely natural for Dylan to ditch the guitar completely for this song, showing how far he’s evolved from his folk roots. The first notes on the piano lay the groundwork for the whole song, setting up the condemnatory feel of the entire composition. Dylan’s vocals in this one also convey the perfect sentiment: He seems to be alternating between scolding and downright mocking of Mr. Jones.

This song is an example of Dylan at his best: Sharp, witty, audacious, crisp, melodious. It’s a song that is both simple and resonant, accessible and impenetrable, explicable and deep. There’s a lot going on here, and I only know some of what it is.

Outre ces éléments, l'édition française comprend en plus un CD exclusif

Sans compter parmi les réussites majeures du Maestro, l’album Together through life de Bob Dylan, sorti le 27 avril, est un disque intense, qui se bonifie à chaque écoute.

Des titres comme Jolene ou I feel a change comin’ on sont particulièrement plaisants. L’édition collector spécifique à la France est plutôt réussie, avec le CD de l’album, un CD avec un épisode de la Theme time radio hour de Bob Dylan (hélas sans indexation permettant d’écouter chaque titre individuellement), un DVD avec la “Lost interview” de Roy Silver (pas visionné pour l’heure), un poster, un sticker et un CD bonus “my Bob Dylan”. Celui-ci est présenté par Gilles Verlant (on a échappé à Philippe Manoeuvre !). Il retrace la carrière de Bob Dylan avec des témoignages de chanteurs ayant été influencés par le Maestro, comme Elliott Murphy ou Joseph d’Anvers. On a aussi droit à quelques belles reprises comme Cauchemar psychomoteur (traduction de Motorpsycho Nitemare par Pierre Delanoé pour Hugues Aufray) par Hubert-Félix Thiéfaine et Paul Personne, ou Ballad of a thin man par Elliott Murphy. Signalons enfin que Françoise Hardy raconte sa rencontre avec Bob Dylan en 1966. Un regret : ce CD bonus est collé au dos du coffret qui contient les autres disques. Ce qui donne à l’ensemble un côté un peu cheap.

Pour lire la critique du Monde, cliquez ici.

Et vous, que pensez-vous de cet album ? Vos avis dylanophiles sont les bienvenus !

On the encouragement of another reader, (thanks Lee!) I have taken my inspiration for this post from a hero of mine; Bob Dylan.

In the surrealist song taken from the album “Highway 61 Revisited” “Ballad of a Thin Man, ” he sings;

The meaning behind this whole song is still being debated by Dylan fans many years later. Who is Mr Jones and what is he doing that he doesn’t understand?

Some commentators feel Mr Jones represents a music critic who just didn’t get Dylan, his (new) musical direction or even his songs. Mr Jones appears to be an establishment figure, one of authority or presumed superiority yet he displays his misunderstanding of his situation and the lesser people within it, ultimately being rejected by them, “how does it feel to be such a freak?”

Mr Jones is the wrong man in the wrong place at the wrong time.

What purpose am I trying to fulfill by posting this? I suppose partly to highlight my own confusion over things management and my place within it as well as addressing some of the confusion surrounding me and my opinions of all this.

I appreciate that I present a very negative view of management. This comes from my own, ongoing experience and therefore is subject to my own interpretation. As the vast majority of this is negative it should come as no surprise that my representation of the issue is necessarily thus. It is neither a stance of nihilism nor criticism, merely repeated disappointment and undoubtedly confounding mis-interpretation. As a critique however it cannot be denied. Whether it makes sense or not, like Dylan’s sword swallower and his offer to return your borrowed throat, is not actually the issue.

Some have criticised my position suggesting cynicism and “wrongheadedness”. That logically comes from an alternative stance, one with a positive understanding or experience of management that is not mine to share. The two stances cannot be mutually exclusive and so both parties have to accept that this confusion is actually highlighting the problem rather than explaining it.

Medical management must be effective; without it the clinical practice as defined and prescribed by government and society simply would not exist. What is clear however is that the vast majority of clinicians view management as understandable as Mr Jones or his behaviour. Clinicians go to work, perform their duties and leave with very little direct influence or interaction from management other than in a coersive or regulatory sense. This develops the negative viewpoint.

To to deny or allocate blame in this is neither helpful nor appropriate. To chose to develop and progress the relationship clearly is the responsibility of both parties, recognising the divide and working towards reducing it. Surely no organisation can be at its most effective if it is so clearly dysfunctional.

I’m not saying I’m Mr Jones or the commentator, I’m just saying this is actually quite surreal.

Anyone?

Y llegó el momento, es difícil pero no puedo dilatar esto mucho mas, voy a hablar de Bob Dylan.

Esto no me resulta nada fácil, entendamos que me estoy metiendo con uno de los mas grandes, mas respetados y mas odiados de este mundillo rockpopero, para colmo de males no soy un conocedor de su obra a rajatabla, pero después de tantos años de rock en mi vida empiezo a entender el hombre que hay detrás del mito.

El detonante de este post fue empezar a leer su autobiografía “Cronicas”. Un libro muy interesante que cuenta en primera persona la génesis del personaje. Una de las cosas mas maravillosas que tiene el libro es ver como Bob fue recogiendo elementos de muchas influencias diferentes para construir una identidad propia, si a este libro le sumamos el documental de Scorsese “No Direction Home” podemos empezar a ver la punta del ovillo.

Yo llegue a Dylan por otros, durante años escuche muchas canciones de su repertorio interpretadas por personajes de todo tipo, de Nick Cave a Sonny and Cher pasando por Guns and Roses, U2, Rolling Stones y demás bestias del ambiente, y siempre sentía que me gustaba mas Dylan en la voz de otra gente. Pero llego un momento que tuve que abrir mi corazón al gran Bob y cuando eso sucede ya no hay vuelta atrás.

Tengo mis favoritas, “Hurricane”, “Simple Twist of Fate” o “Ballad of a Thin Man” son las que ocupan un lugar especial en mi vida, pero cuando uno empieza a internarse en el mundo Dylan pasa lo mismo que con Zappa, su producción es tan grande y variada que uno no puede quedarse con solo una parte, lo quiere todo y cuando mas lo conoces mas se mete en tu vida y no te lo puedes quitar de tus oídos.

Cuenta la leyenda que el gran cambio de la historia de la música pop de dio cuando Lennon y Dylan se conocieron, parece que la conversación entre Bob y John fue algo asi:

- Dylan:

 ” A ver si te empiezas a preocupar por las letras”

 A lo que Lennon respondio:

 ” y que tal si tu le metes electricidad a tus canciones”, 

Meses después de esta conversación vino el famoso grito de “Judas” para Bob y Sgt Pepper para John, el resto de la historia ya la conocemos todos.

Yo se que en estos tiempos tan neo posmodernos pedirle a los jóvenes que escuchen a un viejuno con voz nasal no es tarea fácil, pero se los recomiendo, si empiezan ahora van a poder disfrutar de la obra de este genio durante mas tiempo en su vida.  Y como última recomendación les sugiero que se hagan con el disco “I’m Not there” es el soundtrack de una peli basada en la vida del gran Bob, allí se encontraran con grandes canciones en la voz de lo mejorcito del patio en este momento, una buena forma de acercarse de a poco al universo Dylan.

Há exatos 67 anos, fomos presenteados com o nascimento de um dos maiores gênios da cultura contemporânea. Falar de como Bob Dylan foi importante para a música é perfeitamente dispensável, mas sua importância vai muito além disso. Ele foi um dos personagens chave para a notável década de 60, que mudou os cursos da influência da cultura nos EUA e em todo o mundo. O garoto de 20 e poucos anos, com voz fanha e gaita estridente conseguiu como ninguém penetrar nos veículos de massa americanos, que na área musical eram dominados pelas figuras politicamente corretas, com vocais limpinhos e arranjos elaborados.

Com certeza, o cara foi um dos artistas mais influentes do século XX, e parece continuar influenciando nossa cultura atualmente. Prova disso são as freqüentes regravações de sua música por artistas que vão de Avril Lavige à Johnny Winter, e os recentes filmes de muito sucesso baseados na figura de Dylan, os muito bons No Direction Home, dirigido impecavelmente por Martin Scorcese; e o enigmático I´m Not There, de Todd Haynes, que conta com nada menos que seis atores de peso para interpretar Bob Dylan em cada uma de suas fases. Aliás que metamorfose ambulante é esse Bob Dylan.

As várias faces de Bob Dylan

Dylan começou a carreira na cena folk, composta na época por intelectuais e universitários. Suas músicas com letras fortes e muito interpretadas como de protesto logo o fizeram um dos “reis” do movimento americano. Eis então que em um belo dia Dylan troca seu violão pela guitarra elétrica, se junta a uma banda e faz um show de rock-blues chocando milhares de seguidores folks, que o elegiam como um de seus principais ícones. As reações estão muito bem retratadas no documentário No Direction Home, e uma das cenas mais legais do filme é essa aí de cima (se você não vê nada, atualize seu IE ou baixe o Firefox), onde Bob nos brinda com uma performance marcante sob vaias e gritos de “Judas!” da platéia folk enfurecida.

Dylan não se acomodou com o sucesso alcançado, pelo contrário, procurou evoluir e sofisticar sua música, mesmo que isso tenha lhe custado atritos com seu público mais fiel. Com isso enriqueceu sua obra. Além dessa transição brusca do folk para o rock, Bob Dylan já teve refletido em suas letras suas fases de contestador, introspectivo, sócio-responsável e até religioso, com sua aproximação da música gospel.

Um dos pontos mais brilhantes de sua obra foi a aliança entre literatura e música, muito pouco antes vista com tanta eficiência. As metrificações e rimas perfeitas adicionam uma profundidade poética essencial em sua música. Vários outros pontos interessantes marcam positivamente a obra de Dylan, listá-los demandaria quase outro texto, portanto vou parar por aqui. Ele foi sem dúvidas (pra não perder a oportunidade de usar o chavão) um homem à frente de seu tempo. Parabéns para essa lenda viva da música!

Escrito por renanfig.

Esto de no ser dylanita ni ser dylanólogo ni mucho menos ser expertos en nada nos hace, por un lado, más débiles respecto de varios temas y respecto de su crítica. Pero por el otro, nos permite ciertas cosas más flexibles. Por ejemplo, este post. Como el anterior, pensado para mitigar un poco la ansiedat ante una nueva visita del great Bob (para nosotros, la primera), esta vez vamos con un ejercicio no de crítica ni de musicología, si no de “momentos Dylan”: cinco momentos por cada co-blogger en los que cada uno de nosotros dos sintió, primero, nacer el amor por el maestro. Y segundo, las otras cuatro veces que ese amor renació o, como se dice ahora, “renovó sus votos”. A verrrrr!!!

FEDERO:

Blowin’ in the Wind.
Un tema que siempre estuvo en el aire –traído y llevado por el viento- y que, como los grandes temas, nunca supe cuándo fue la primera vez que lo escuché. Pero esos temas empáticos, esos temas cómo-vas-a-conmover-tanto-con-tan-poco que te generan una inmediata corriente con el artista. El tema que me hizo pensar desde muy chico (sin haber escuchado otro tema Dylan más) que a mí me gustaba Dylan y los versos “how many roads must a man walk down before you call him a man” que siempre me dieron ganas de agarrar todo y picármelas a la mierda.

Mr. Tambourine Man.
En mi mente, la continuación de Blowin. Otro rasgueo hipnótico y unos dichos crípticos pero de cualquier modo llegadores. Llegadores en forma de forma y no de contenido, como a veces sucede, y que elevan las letras a otro nivel. El tema favorito de mi hijo a la hora de aplacarse un poco en versión deslucida pero amorosa de su padre osea yo. Y, perdón si soy denso con hallazgos líricos, esa seguidilla que dice así: “Then take me disappearin’ through the smoke rings of my mind/ Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves/ The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach/ Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow”, casi sobre el final, que Bob la va estirando y no termina más… uf, termina con uno, en realidad.

Changing of the Guards.
Para mí, el mejor tema de Dylan. Por varias razones. Quizás porque cuando lo escuché me pareció tan sorprendente, tan poco Dylan, tan poco canción. Un Dylan seguramente divirtiéndose, escribiendo nueve estrofas ¡un rap en 1978! diferentes una de la otra, apoyándose en un coro maravilloso y en vientos y experimentando nuevas maneras de decir las cosas. Un tema con muchos climas, exuberante, inabarcable y esperemos que lo haga el sábado porque va a decepcionar por lo menos a uno. A mí.

Not Dark Yet.
De su seguidilla de resurrección, time out of mind me parece el mejor disco. Un dylan triste, como decepcionado, que mira al final y lo mira con no mucho optimismo. Y en ese reguero de temas tan tristemente arriba, destaco, yo, not dark yet. Cómo podés estar contento, feliz, lleno escuchando esa triste voz… que encima te dice todavía no está oscuro papá, pero en cualquier momento se pudre la momia. Cómo puede ser? Un gran dolor dulce de manos de nuestro querido amigo Dylan.

Ballad of a Thin Man.
¿Será el “Porque algo está sucendiendo acá y vos no sabés qué es”? ¿Será esa frase maravillosa o su carácter surreal, lúdico, inapresable? ¿O será ese piano tan pero tan único que lo sentís repiquetear solito en tu cabeza sin –incluso sin- la voz graciosa y tentada de Dylan? I don´t know. Pero cómo te queda… cómo no desaparecen esos mágicos sonidos, una vez que el tema –con un riff y un decrescendo de piano- se van yendo del tracklist.

LAUREOT:

Blowin’ in the Wind II.
Cuando salió una tapa de Página/12 con la foto que está arriba (y el título “Soplando en el Viento”) porque Dylan había anunciado, muy sobre la marcha, que teloneaba a los Stones en dos de sus cinco recitales en River, 1998. Y la sensación, sin la noción de todo lo que era Dylan, de que se me estaba yendo algo muy grosso por la cara.

Things Have Changed.
Una canción poco Dylan y muy Leonard Cohen, (la relación es de Rodrigo Fresán, ahora hablaré de él). Pero una canción muy moderna y de este Dylan que es más ciudadano del mundo, leyenda que camina con onda y poderoso seductor. El mismo de las publicidades. Ni cerca del folkista, ni del anfetoso con anteojos adentro de una limousine, ni tampoco del maduro de Modern Times.

Ballad of a Thin Man II.
Mi rescate es muy visual. Bob cantando este tema en, creo, el Albert Hall de Londres. Lo vi en el tremendo documental que es No Direction Home, de Martin Scorsese, donde te muestra cómo fue que existió primero ese muchacho que tocaba canciones de Woodie Guthrie y que los jóvenes quisieron hacer su Mesías, y se transformó en el eléctrico al que le gritan “Bobby go home” y que él hace burlas sentadito al piano.

Visions of Johanna.
Y este, más allá de que es un temazo, es nada más que como un saludete a Fresán. Y semejante tema, que lo pone como equivalente a A Day in the Life, “una catedral de canción”, le dice. Fresán viene hablando de Dylan en el Radar desde que yo leo el suplemento, desde que salió digamos. Fresán es LA PESADA de Dylan. Tanto que mucho tiempo logró el efecto contrario, a mí me alejó por insistente. El Dylan de Fresán nunca pifia porque claro, el chabón es un fanático. Asumidísimo, porque le sobran razones para serlo y lo argumenta muy bien. Otros éxitos de persuasión de Fresán sobre mí, como Chever, terminaron por acercarme de a poco a Dylan, y eso se lo agradezco. Y ahora cada vez que escribe sobre Dylan, como el domingo pasado con su con la lista de temas que le gustaría para el concierto que se viene, me lo leo de toque.

Like a Rolling Stone.
Primero porque me parece que es la que más quiero que toque. Después porque a mí me parece ver en esa canción el salto mental que pegó Dylan para terminar siendo Dylan. También porque me copa la entonación esa que mete, y acá se nota perfecto en el “conceal” de cuando dice “you got no secrets to conceal”. Y por último la cadencia, vomitiva dicen, pariente de otra canción que a mí también me gusta mucho y que es “Positively 4th Street” (you got a lotta nerve!), de la forma en que a uno le gustaría decirle las cosas a la gente que no quiere.

I’m Not There
Directed by Todd Haynes
2007

bakinakwa says: 

Having been too young to pay attention to things like film and music during the 80s and early-to-mid 90s, it’s almost impossible to imagine a time when Bob Dylan was unpopular or, worse, irrelevant.  Since the dawn of the new millennium he’s had two critically revered albums, a best-selling autobiography, a much raved-about radio show on XM, appearances in ads for products it would be beneath me to mention, hundreds of sold-out concerts and now, with Todd Haynes’ I’m Not There, the second of two film treatments from major directors.  Is Dylan at the height of his appeal?  Let me put it this way, when it came time for Haynes to create a soundtrack for I’m Not There, the majorest of major talents in indie music not only came out of the woodwork, but they spent the entire time doing their best to ape Dylan’s delivery on his classic recordings: names like Cat Power, Stephen Malkmus, Antony of Antony & The Johnsons, My Morning Jacket’s Jim James, members of Sonic Youth, Yo La Tengo, Wilco’s Jeff Tweedy, and Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs seemed more than happy to offer their best Bob impersonations.  Hell, even Sufyawn Stevens took a break from writing Christmas songs.

All of this is mere background to what really must be considered one of the most ambitious films of this year.  No one would’ve expected Haynes to turn out something ordinary, but I’m Not There still manages to seem weird, at least to someone who hasn’t seen Superstar.  There’s the oft-ballyhooed multiple actors playing Dylan, the complete lack of chronology or literal plot-line and countless liberties taken with the life and times of the man being biopic-ed.  By the end of the picture, however, that weirdness feels more like a veneer, a sheen, a stylistic touch meant to compensate for a lack of genuine content.  The end result of I’m Not There reads like a bullet-point presentation of Dylan the myth.  Meeting Woody Guthrie on his deathbed?  Check.  An inflammatory jump to electric music replete with Pete Seeger lookalike wielding an axe?  Check.  ’66 motorcycle accident?  Check.  Failed relationship with ex-wife Sara Lownds?  Check.  Conversion to Christianity?  Get the point?  All of these highlights and more get air-time, but not one is enhanced with anything resembling insight or revelation.  One could obtain the same information with less confusion from a good Dylan biography, like Clinton Heylin’s Bob Dylan: Behind The Shades Revisited.  Also like Heylin’s book, these things and more are approached with that air of gossip and rumor that darkens nearly every discussion of Dylan: the man wrote the book on obscuring the truth to such an extent that even those closest to him don’t know what did and didn’t really happen, or if they do they’re not telling.  Reading Chronicles, his autobiography, it often seems that Dylan himself might not even know what’s true, and unlike Martin Scorsese’s No Direction Home, I’m Not There doesn’t appear to have much in the way of source material or firsthand accounts.  Nothing is revealed, indeed.

Which isn’t to say I’m Not There isn’t enjoyable.  It’s not a bad film in the same way that No Direction Home wasn’t exactly good: when it comes to making a film about Bob Dylan, I suspect that representing the truth is the least necessary tool for good film-making.  What I’m Not There does is literalize the Dylan myth: it does it efficiently, it does it incorporating beautiful sights and sounds, it does it freewheelin’ly and it does it with flair and humor.  Which ought to be enough, I suppose, but it would’ve been nice if it had sacrificed the rest (well, maybe not the sights and sounds) and just done it with purpose.  As a Dylan fan(atic), I appreciate Haynes’ effort.  Any film that allows me to listen to sizable chunks of Dylan’s discography over those gigantic theater speakers is worth my money.  It’s just that I really can’t imagine anyone not already heavily invested in the artistry of Dylan getting much from this picture.  Does that matter or does that just suck for them?  You’re asking the wrong person.  The way I look at it, I’m Not There is like the Star Wars sequels: films targeted at a cult-like audience that, ultimately, isn’t as concerned with quality as they are with reveling in the opportunity to spend some time with their leader.  It just so happens that Yoda is a bigger icon than Dylan, so the film about my guy still retains that air of in-joke about it.  A film for Dylanists made by a Dylanist.  What else do you need to know?

I suppose now would be a good time to say something about the actual film.  Well, the six actors “are all Bob Dylan” approach is nowhere near as controversial as one might’ve guessed.  In fact, it makes sense.  Several of the actors do try to impersonate Dylan, but mostly they seem content to play their small part in the grand scheme of Bob.  Only Cate Blanchett goes overboard.  Yes, she ends up looking the most like Dylan and most accurately conjures a specific Dylan (the Dylan of D.A. Pennebaker’s original Dylan picture Dont Look Back), but she’s also the only one who really overshoots the mark.  Her delivery and mannerisms attempt to mimic him so completely that her performance ends up offering the least resonance.  The scenes between her and the press are evidence of this: she had Dylan’s phrasing and jittery combativeness down, but she still lacks the feeling of effortless wit and wonder the real Dylan embodied.  Richard Gere and Marcus Carl Franklin, however, come off the best: Gere because he seems the least interested in doppelgangery and Franklin because he offers the most original conceptual take.  Of the non-Dylan’s, Charlotte Gainsbourg deserves mention for both the vibrancy and joie de vivre of her earlier scenes as well as the sadness and emotional vulnerabilty of her later scenes.  Gere’s scenes in the town of Riddle, however, stood out as the most engaging because it was here that Haynes best approximated, without actually duplicating, the mood and feeling of a Dylan period.  That period, of course, being The Basement Tapes era, and the approximation made possible by a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, masks, animals, lyric-bits, sight-gags and more.  From the vantage point of Gere’s Billy the Kid we observe such brilliant images as giraffes emerging from behind buildings and crates of meat.  It’s about imagery, and Haynes does very well here at recalling the swirl and rush of images that one gets from the best Dylan songs.

Indeed, the highlight of the picture, the funeral scene (from which the picture above is culled), takes place against this backdrop; once Jim James’ take on “Goin’ To Acapulco” kicks into high gear backed by the gorgeous horns of Calexico, Haynes finally hits with the emotional punch of Dylan at his best.  If only more of the film were like this it might have risen above the level of homage to something more meaningful, something able to stand on its own.  As is, it’s yet another companion piece to a body of work that needs no companions.  In the same way that we only have Homer’s retelling of The Iliad and The Odyssey to go on, it wouldn’t surprise me if Haynes’ picture became the dominant Dylan document in the future.  The film’s unrestrained creativity makes it a captivating enough film to be that, but that’s ultimately all it is: an excellent retelling of a story that those of us who care already know by heart.

bakinakwa’s rating:

lakelia says:

I was enjoying this movie, interested in some of the characters’ fates, intrigued by the imagery and music, having fun recognizing the references to Dylan’s many stories, until somewhere around the time that Jim James stood up on stage in the town of Riddle and sang “Goin’ to Acapulco.” From then on I was truly impressed. First of all, Jim James has an amazing voice. I’ve always liked it, as much for its straightforward beauty and expressiveness as for that strange quality it has of sounding almost electronic – like it’s a setting on a synthesizer, or maybe coming through a speaker twice. But his voice was especially amazing singing this song. Mournful and sweet and yearning, it swung out above this scene of James on stage with his face painted white, the girl in the casket whose eyes looked sometimes forward and sometimes up and away, an uneasy and aching moment in a Halloween town – I loved it.

It was also right around this time in the stories that Pat Garrett said to the Recluse Formerly Known as Billy the Kid, “You think you’re speaking for the people? We have ways of dealing with scoundrels like you.” I guess when I first heard that line I vaguely interpreted it as pointing out how the public, or the media, or whoever, had made Dylan pay a price for “speaking for the people,” even though he himself had never, as far as I know, said anything at all along the lines of, “I am the voice of my generation.” I’m by no means an expert on Bob Dylan, but I’ve learned enough to know that it’s not a good idea to try to say anything about what Dylan did or did not (or does or does not) think about himself as a public figure. So, that fairly direct interpretation of Pat Garrett’s line isn’t really why it stood out to me. It was more that it seemed to be a transcendent line, something that touched all six Dylan-people. Somehow, it unified the different stories for me into all being about one multi-faceted thing – the mythology around Bob Dylan.

I can’t imagine seeing this movie without being able to recognize references to Dylan’s story/stories, both those the public watched and those Dylan made up at one time or another. I doubt I caught all the references, but I did see them fairly frequently and it was a lot of fun. The photograph of Julianne Moore in profile as Joan Baez, although one of the most obvious, was one of my favorites, just for its cheekiness and humor. During most of the film, the six different stories seem totally unrelated and, aside from the love story and the story of 11-year-old Woody, were rather thin on plot, so it was the little in-jokes thrown out to Dylan fans that kept me having fun.

Cate Blanchett’s portrayal of Dylan was fun to watch, but its quality could only be called excellent for something about the length and depth of a Saturday Night Live skit. The look was good, the mannerisms were a well-done caricature, but I didn’t believe her most of the time. She did have some great moments written for her character, though – I loved when she rolled around on the grass with The Beatles, all of them talking in little helium voices. And saying to Jesus on the cross, “Why don’t you do your early stuff?”…well, that speaks for itself. I also thought the exchange between Blanchett’s character, Jude, and the BBC journalist about whether Jude actually cared about anything was one of the most interesting displays of tension and ideas. The way this scene then transitioned into a sort of montage-as-music-video for “Ballad of a Thin Man” was excellent.  It combined more faithful mimicry of Dylan footage (this time, his 1966 performances), images from young Woody’s story and a humiliating indictment of this journalist as a manifestation of Mr. Jones.

Overall the movie was greatly creative and very enjoyable. Even though there was nothing besides my own familiarity with Dylan’s history to hold the six stories together, none of the scenes dragged. There were a number of moments that were like Dylan’s songs – the giraffe coming out from behind a house in the Wild West being the one that stood out the most. The whole film even was a bit like a Dylan song. Moments of insight, moments of humor, and something that, taken all at once, can really work your senses and your psyche.

lakelia’s rating:

Sannerligen. Ju äldre man blir, desto mer lär man sig. Jag har alltid trott, eller snarare varit övertygad om, att Mr Jones i Bob Dylans klassiker Ballad of A Thin Man från 1965, bar självbiografiska drag. Jag tror dessutom att det var min kompis Hans som en gång ledde mig in på det. Och han brukar ha stenkoll på den här sortens fakta, påläst som han är.

Men får man tro den här texten så var Mr Jones verkligen en Mr Jones, tillika en nidbild av en reporter som Dylan inte kunde låta bli att spotta ur sig. Alla som sett D.A Pennebakers dokumentärfilm Don’t Look Back vet ju att Mr Zimmerman hade för vana att äta journalister till frukost.

Låt följaktligen den riktige Mr Jones vila i frid.