a date with dylan

just finished watching don't look back, a documentary like film made in 1965 and released in 67 which follows Dylan on tour in england. am watching it because i want to give the guy a chance. once again am trying to round out my musical education and to see what the hype is all about. i have been able to appreciate his influence and his gifts as a writer but i just never really liked his voice or his persona. found him full of himself and off putting. couldn't warm to him.

the film is insane, in a good way. apparently the seminal film in the realm of cinema verite. camera to be able to pull it off brand new and style of being fly on wall also innovative. feel so close to all who are alive in the black and white and gray. get a very intimate sense of knowing them, love the small moments, the silences, the hanging out in between the snapshots of the scene they were in musically and historically.

bob himself if a bit of an enigma, both to us as viewers and apparently, to himself. speaks out of both sides of his mouth often, as twenty somethings do. is in one moment intense, waxing philosophic about nothing meaning anything, about him not being a folk singer, his lyrics, candid, astute, well observed and biting. in the next moment, he is reading and basking in, his own press, joking with friends, checking himself out in the mirror, toying with the power that comes with celebrity.

i loved the scenes with the interviewers. poor souls. bob absolutely eviscerates the poor sods. gave them absolutely nothing that they were looking for. turned all questions as opportunities to launch into lectures about their futility as a means through which they could ever hope to come to truly know anything about him. makes a great case for the ridiculousness of celebrity and the whacked way that people deify musicians, looking to them for answers to life's questions.

while i was impressed by his incredibly articulate arguments i was equally pissed at the little upstart. was being a real dick for the sake of being a dick at one point. showed no feeling for them and dismissed them as misguided idiots. again the two sides of the coin. the man that devotes himself to highlighting the social ills of the world is an asshole to his fellow man in his daily life. funny how want the words to do more than provoke. want them to be tied to behaviour and action so can fully fall under his spell.

of course that's the point i guess. that we are, human. that these are ideas after all. that if you want true change can't expect a prophet to make change for you. that idealists can't help but also be cynics. hard to look in the face of truth and not be daunted and defeated by it. keep coming back to this idea that we want to put a different face on things to make them more palatable. like the way that i struggled with france's historically bloody streets being so gorgeously maintained and beautifed, beatified.

was impressed by dylan's musicality. one scene where he was playing the piano. very bluesy and deeply rich. so musical that i feel like i got an answer to the question, why sing? why not be a poet? why choose to be a musician where you esentially do little more than just strum and strain as a singer. his ear was great, his taste, true, many scenes of him playing country tunes and bluegrass ditties he loved with joan baez. this feeling, this sound, full and rich, was driving him internally as he spewed through his own shaky instrument. now that i knew what he was hearing in his own mind as he played i found myself forgiving him his foibles as he performed throughout the film and started really hearing him.

find myself wanting to go and read lyrics to his tunes. am a fan of poetry and this is the real deal. images and phrasing so great. it's a kind of stream of consciousness that provides you with more of a paddle than most.

am rewatching it with the commentary as i write. so great. love the extra layer to the tale.

all in all i still wouldn't want to have him over for dinner but the guy had a whole lotta somethin goin' on.