I'm Not There: A
Over the past several years, audiences have been bombarded with music bio-epic films, which chronicle the trials and tribulations of iconic musicians.
From Jamie Foxx's take on Ray Charles in "Ray" to Reese Witherspoon's portrayal of June Carter in "Walk the Line," roles are chock-full of opportunities for actors and actresses to demonstrate their versatility and deliver histrionic performances that make for excellent Oscar clips. After seeing all of these aforementioned films, the stories of the tortured musician grappling with greed and pride become mundane and all too familiar.
When it was announced last year that inventive filmmaker Todd Haynes began production on a biographical film about Bob Dylan, it was clear that the music bio-epic genre would be revolutionized. Haynes frequently experiments with themes of personal alienation and repression in his films, such as his analysis of 1950s suburbia in "Far From Heaven" and his harrowing, Barbie-acted "The Karen Carpenter Story." His latest film, "I'm Not There," is easily the most unorthodox cinematic account of a musician in the history of filmmaking.
Rather than cast one actor to portray Bob Dylan, Haynes hired six: Heath Ledger, Richard Gere, Christian Bale, Ben Wishaw, Cate Blanchett and Marcus Carl Franklin, an 11-year-old black boy. The actors each depict phases of Dylan's life under different aliases, from his initial gigs in early 1960s Greenwich Village to his self-imposed exile from the public eye. Haynes poetically intermingles each of Dylan's eras together, assembling a poignant patchwork of the musician's life that transcends genre constraints of the music bio-epic.
A life as complex as Dylan's demands an equally complex cinematic treatment, and while many may find difficulty with the multifaceted structure of "I'm Not There," the film's abstract, nonlinear plot truly captures Dylan's renegade spirit. Haynes is notorious for taking risks, and casting Cate Blanchett as Dylan during a publicity stint in 1960s London serves as testament. Blanchett's scenes as Dylan - wisely filmed in black and white - employ surrealism to illustrate his imagination. This is evident when Haynes has Dylan and his bandmates firing machine guns into the crowd at large, channeling the sensations of shock and disgust patrons at Newport Folk Festival experienced when Dylan used electric instruments for the first time.
As Blanchett carouses through London's hip party scene with socialite heiress Coco - a variation of Edie Sedgwick - and delivers press interviews with Dylan's signature sense of ironic detachment, she fearlessly embraces Dylan's blunt wit and feverish yearning to acquire a reputation of rebellion. Blanchett's performance is not characterized by deft imitation, ? la Jamie Foxx in "Ray," but by an exhilarating assumption of character, culminating in the most remarkable performance of her career and perhaps in any modern film about music.
"I'm Not There" is an unconventional music odyssey that requires a degree of patience and trust in Haynes' judgment, yet it is an essential experience for any Dylan enthusiast, or rather anyone who considers themselves a fan of music in general. Haynes' vision is based on anecdotes, tales and rumors that may be true, exaggerated, imagined or fictitious, brilliantly reflecting Dylan's mysterious life. With its intricate, smoky cinematography and haunting performances, "I'm Not There" is a chaotic, spellbinding circus - one that could very well be the best film of the year.
