I'M NOT THERE

I guess it helps to be a Dylanologist to really appreciate this film. Needless to say, I'm not a Dylanologist.

Going into the movie, there were three things I knew about I'm Not There. One: It was about Bob Dylan. Two: Several actors play the Dylan character, most intriguingly Cate Blanchett. And Three: Critics had been falling all over each other since the film's release, trying to see who can make out with the movie most graphically.

But one thing my friend and I didn't know was WHO directed it. We knew it was one of the Two Todds. There's Todd Haynes, whom we normally like and trust, with his track record of movies like the glorious Far From Heaven, as well as intriguing movies like Velvet Goldmine and Safe. Then there's Todd Solondz, aka the creepy and weird Todd. Solondz won over all the geeks in the world with Welcome to the Dollhouse, but his movies have been progressively giving me more and more severe cases of the heebie-jeebies ever since. And heck, his movie Palindromes has the same schtick, with many different actors playing the same character. But when the credits unfurled at the beginning of I'm Not There, we breathed a sigh of relief when Todd Haynes' name flashed across the screen.

But then after, oh, half an hour or so, we found ourselves scratching our heads and mumbling, "Uh... what?"

This is what I figure: All those critics making out with I'm Not There are all probably huge Bob Dylan fans. In the "Official Guide to the Movie" (a little flyer I picked up at the theater), Los Angeles Times' Ann Powers writes (excitedly), "Only a so-called Dylanologist could have made this film, and Haynes can't deny us the pleasure of noting every shirt that matches one worn in a vintage film clip, and every quote lifted from a press conference from 1965." Well, that's good and all, but how is the movie?

Six actors play versions of Dylan (who is never named as such in the film), including Christian Bale, Richard Gere, Blanchett, and Heath Ledger. An 11-year-old black boy (Marcus Carl Franklin) slinging a guitar is also Dylan, riding the rails and telling tall tales to bums in boxcars. The kid actor speaks all affected (and distractingly), and (I've read) is a dead-on impersonation. Um. OK. Another disheveled actor, a young white guy who calls himself Arthur Rimbaud (Ben Whishaw) is just as annoying, speaking to the camera/judge with an affected nasal tone. OK. We get it.

It is unsurprising when you think about it that the best Dylan is Cate Blanchett. I mean, what can't the Great Cate do? Surprisingly, she also looks the most like him, and these scenes are the most interesting visually, recreating a black-and-white rock-and-roll film from 1965 (even with an homage to The Beatles' own films). Cate is magnetic as a Dylan-esque singer named Jude Quinn, a guy who has tired of his folksie image and is re-inventing himself by electrifying his sound. Michelle Williams even turns up as Dylan's ex-fling Coco (aka Edie Sedgewick). Alas, since they already hate each other, we don't get to see them make out. Too bad.

The other stories range from interesting-but-undeveloped (Bale's) to annoying (Whishaw's) to boring (Franklin's) to simply weird and baffling (Gere's). But as far as acting is concerned, the only plot that actually moved me was Heath Ledger's. But he doesn't get the credit. The best thing about I'm Not There (other than Blanchett) is Charlotte Gainsbourg as the wife of Ledger's hipster-actor character. They meet cute, get married, and she is slowly left behind as his fame grows and he is contantly away, partying with beauties and scenesters. Gainsbourg, with her quiet acceptance and determination to finally leave him is heartbreaking. And luckily for Ledger, he is better every time he shares the screen with her.

You may guess that I'm not a Dylanologist. I'm sure if you were a big fan, you'd have a different perspective and appreciation of such an homage as I'm Not There. But since I'm not a Dylanologist, I just have to simply review I'm Not There for what it is: a movie. And as a movie, I have to say that it didn't really work for me.