Review of I'm Not There (2007) by Manny C — 12 Jan 2011

Presenting biography as collage. It may not actually reveal much about the Zimmerman (that'd be Bob Dylan) but Todd Haynes' colorful, vibrant bio I'm Not There is a remarkably visionary movie that puts the myths and music of Dylan up front and center with all his phases and personalities intact. And he has six wonderful actors portraying six variations of the great troubadour. Even non-Dylanologists can find something to love in this visual feast, whether it's the great performances or the Dylan originals and covers that appear throughout.

As aforementioned, Haynes was not content to have just one actor be Dylan. He instead went with six, six actors of mixed race and gender who capture Dylan in the act of inventing and reinventing himself. In between are inspired cameos from Haynes muse Julianne Moore, Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth, My Morning Jacket's Jim James' singing a one-of-a-kind version of 'Goin' To Acapulco' and more.

The best of those performances comes from Aussie actress extraordinaire Cate Blanchett. It's no stunt, it a miracle. Blanchett plays Jude, a version of Dylan as he goes electric, hair frayed on end, body thin as a rail. Blanchett doesn't miss a beat, whether cavorting with poet Allen Ginsburg (David Cross of all cool people) or hitting on an Edie Sedgwick-like socialite (Michelle Williams) or gunning down the audience at the Newport Folk Festival, Blanchett is a wonder. That she lost the Oscar for Best Supporting Actress perfectly illustrates the Academy's stupidity.

She does have some stiff competition though. Notably the late Heath Ledger, essentially playing the Blood On The Tracks Dylan. Ledger plays Robbie, an actor who plays Christian Bale's version of Dylan in the movies, and ends up marrying French painter Claire (Charlotte Gainsbourg), mirroring Dylan's marriage and divorce from Sara Lownds. Ledger digs deep, even when hiding behind dark sunglasses in broad daylight. It's a masterful tribute to such a lost talent.

But speaking of Christian Bale, he gets to bring to life two sides of Dylan. First as Jack, a popular protest singer then as Pastor John, who revs up a congregation with a rousing rendition of 'Pressing On' (even though it's X's Jon Doe singing). Bale is wonderful.

In between is young Marcus Carl Franklin as Woody, portraying the young Woody Guthrie-obsessed Dylan. Ben Whishsaw plays Arthur, the poet Dyalan obsessed with symbolist poet Arthur Rimbaud. And finally there's Richard Gere as Billy, playing a variation of the Dylan who exiled himself to Woodstock after a motorcycle accident and the Dylan of Sam Pekinpah's Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid, lost amid a Fellini-esque fantasia.

Haynes, in collaboration with screenwriter Oren Moverman makes a deft mixture of film styles, including Godard and Richard Lester to illustrate Dylan's refusal to be pinned down. The never becomes clearer than in Cate Blanchett's confrontation with a journalist, which segues into 'Ballad of A Thin Man' in a brilliant music video montage showcasing incredible camera work from Ed Lachmann.

Haynes knows what it's like to be an artist rattling the cages of limitations as well. His films (Poison, Safe, Velvet Goldmine and the sublime Far From Heaven) never skimp on using art as a tool to burrow inside audiences' head. In the end, Dylan does appear, but silent, because he's still not there. But those who are illuminate the screen like torches.