A Complete Unknown ★★★

Released: 17th January 2025

Director: James Mangold

Starring: Timothée Chalamet, Elle Fanning, Monica Barbaro, Edward Norton, Scoot McNairy, Boyd Holbrook & Dan Fogler

After directing Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny, you get the impression James Mangold needed to get A Complete Unknown out of his system. It occurs in one scene: Bob Dylan (Timothèe Chalamet) with his latest girlfriend/muse on his arm attends a party. With his trademark sunglasses, wild hair and black leather jacket, he’s the man of the moment. He has an adulated world in the palm of his hands, a world eager to know when the new album is coming out or to sing a song from his Freewheelin’ album. You sense the awkwardness within him, that feeling of being trapped, a performing puppet for a baiting audience, and it’s not long before he leaves. “They should let me be,” he says.

Despite the insinuation, that’s not to say Mangold had an unpleasant experience on Dial of Destiny. Personally, I liked the film despite a myriad of flaws. Mangold is no Spielberg – but then again, who is in this economy? It was always a tall order to recapture the magic when for a generation, Indy is a childhood hero. Its reported near $300 million budget also didn’t help sway the online detractors although that figure couldn’t be helped when costs ballooned during the COVID pandemic. And frankly it’s pacing and editing befalls the same issue as Kingdom of the Crystal Skull – too long, too drawn out and lacking the zip and energy the original trilogy had accomplished in half the time with abundance. Yet, for the parts that didn’t work, Dial of Destiny was still an admirable effort, especially for its ballsy third act. It hasn’t deterred the passionate filmmaker from working with Lucasfilm again though, this time on his proposed Star Wars film about the birth of the force and the Jedi. Fingers crossed it sees the light of day (amongst the sea of changes currently happening at the House of Mouse), but his latest film does come at a time when the industry is once again at a crossroads.

To use American Dad as an example – like Stan and Francine, studios have “dipped a toe” into the jacuzzi pool of nostalgia. Hypnotised and comfortable, they’ve sunk deeper into the aquatic depths of familiarity refusing to relinquish its magical powers, and what was once just a storytelling tool to connect the past and the present, they’ve succumbed to over-reliance and thus applying the wrong lessons in the process. Hollywood has decided fans have a greater sway in creative directions than the artists themselves. Films now have a whiff of “decided by committee“. Every story beat having to be checked, verified and signed off for maximum wishlist coverage. AI continues to rear its ugly head, now scraping the internet for film and TV scripts for training purposes – without permission or compensation for the talent who wrote them. These dogged thoughts come from a fear of not being willing to upset fans (and the capitalist apple cart) by essentially giving them what they want. This year alone, we’ve gone from one end of the spectrum and back, from the Comic-Con vibes of Marvel’s Deadpool & Wolverine where its endless cameos are worthy of a Hall H crowd versus the toxic backlash against Star Wars: The Acolyte when it dared to do something different outside of the Skywalker timeline. 

That sentiment becomes more prevalent with Edward Norton’s Pete Seeger in a pivotal point in A Complete Unknown. He desperately pleas with Dylan to not change his sound – folk music is on the verge of a shift. He’s a purist, fighting for the genre’s survival amidst the oncoming wave of rock ‘n’ roll. Dylan’s fans – attending the Newport Folk Festival – want the thing they fell in love with. They want “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are A-Changin’” sung for the millionth time. At a crucial junction in his young career, the musician sees change as a chance for experimentation, an opportunity to be unshackled by those who want to control him and its direction. Dylan would later perform to boos and ruckus at the festival with his new electric sound but hindsight is a beautiful thing when we know how Dylan’s career progressed after that moment. “Like a Rolling Stone” charted at #2 in the US charts, and in the latter part of his career, he won a Nobel Peace Prize and went on to be recognised as one of the greatest singer/songwriters in history. Who knows what his career would have been like had he played “safe” within the comfort zones of what audiences and the organisers of Newport Folk Festival wanted. But whether conscious or unconscious thought by Mangold and Jay Cocks’ screenplay, A Complete Unknown does ask a pertinent question: how does art continue to thrive when the world refuses to let it evolve? Mangold doesn’t offer a simple answer considering he’s still functioning in both worlds as a filmmaker, but it’s fun watching him return to his biopic stomping grounds where the question looms beneath the surface as a benefit rather than a detriment. 

A Complete Unknown has the same aura as Walk the Line, but for those expecting Walk the Line 2: Walk Harder, should think again. After all, Walk the Line came at a time when the world was less cynical about biopics with the formula clocked to satirical levels by Jake Kasdan’s Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story. Mangold’s feature is a traditional biopic rooted in a safe pair of hands directing that doesn’t reinvent the wheel per se. It remains a counterculture to some of the modern biopics such as Rocketman or the new Robbie Williams film Better Man where they’re committed to its imaginative yet audacious musical experience without feeling like a contrived entry controlled by the music’s estate (Paddington hard stares towards you, Bohemian Rhapsody). Like Indy in Dial of Destiny, Mangold explores Dylan’s life as a man curious about his worth and value amidst change and its focus on a specific time point rather than committing the cardinal biopic sin of cramming in an entire lifetime is a welcomed breath of fresh air. 

Admittedly, Walk the Line fares as the strongest piece out of the two: you walk in (pun intended) for the star appeal of Joaquin Phoenix’s Johnny Cash but leave with a greater respect by the MVP performance from Reese Witherspoon’s June Carter. A Complete Unknown doesn’t have that same foundation. It pits social activist Elle Fanning’s Sylvie Russo and folk singer Monica Barbaro’s Joan Baez who vye for Bob’s love and attention – but don’t get enough screen time to feel they take complete ownership of their role in the way Ginnifer Goodwin and Witherspoon were able to dominate in their roles in Walk The Line. Granted this origin story transpires through very different circumstances, perhaps the funniest element that Walk the Line and A Complete Unknown share is how Mangold opened up the music biopic multiverse where Dylan and Boyd Holbrook’s Johnny Cash interact as pen pal friends! Would it make a great Sunday afternoon double bill? Absolutely, but I guess A Complete Unknown is more aloof in its examination of Dylan’s life, meaning you’re working harder as an audience to find its flow.

The reason stems from how Mangold and Cocks’ screenplay positions Dylan as an enigma. At the start of the movie, he hitchhikes his way from Minnesota to New York to be part of the infamous Greenwich Village folk scene of the early sixties. Taking a detour to New Jersey, he meets Pete Seeger and a seriously ill Woody Guthrie (Scoot McNairy). Hoping to “catch a spark” (as Dylan would say), he plays a song for them and the rest is history. Seeger introduces Dylan as “The Future”, performing at local bars and clubs, and as his popularity rose, he begins dating Slyvie (who avoids Bob’s increasing fame and limelight) whilst cheating on her with Joan (who sings some of Dylan’s songs as part of her growth as an artist). Through this, we see the birth of a mythological icon.

Within this construct that Mangold fully throws his directorial weight behind, there’s nothing to emotionally latch onto. No tragic backstory. No horrible family member to cite “the wrong son died”. No rock and roll lifestyle where the crippling harm of drugs and alcohol are involved (although Dylan’s affair with Joan was described as tumultuous). “Bob Dylan” is not even his real name and the only story he’s comfortable in sharing is how he learned to play guitar at a carnival. The film’s entertaining source of dramatised conflict comes from finding out that Dylan’s ego and occasional abrasive tone made him a dick to others! He might as well be an alien at this point, descended to Earth, attuned to the planet’s sounds before finding his jam in folk music. It’s happy to live in the moment, succumbing to Dylan’s loose vibe and quest for freedom, thus living up to the film’s title (insert Leo pointing meme from Once Upon a Time in Hollywood).

While that element does separate it from most biopics, as Dylan wanders from place to place like a travelling musical explorer, so does the film’s focus and depth before re-finding its purpose towards the end. Those with a stronger affinity for Dylan’s work will enjoy and appreciate the comfort Mangold presents. They’ll love the jukebox selection of Dylan’s melodic hit songs and dramatised recreations of his concert performances. They’re designed to “take you back”, a feeling made possible by Chalamet, Barbaro, Holbrook and Norton’s commitment to live singing their respective songs (and they’re accredited for their performances). But for those trying to glean a deeper understanding of the American singer/songwriter, A Complete Unknown makes do as an introductory rather than something definitive.

Messy drawbacks aside, the admiration for Mangold’s film comes from how much it speaks about identity and reinvention amongst a transactional society, where ‘give and take’ acts as a currency before intentions are realised. This is where Chalamet naturally shines, operating between the lines of fame and creativity. It’s easy to draw some semblance between himself and the real life Dylan in some scenes. Roles in Dune: Parts One and Two, Wonka, and Bones and All have all but shown his growing range and increasing celebrity. Although his Dylan accent does take a while to get used to, that embodiment of the musician’s personality and mannerisms adds another layer to his stardom. But what continues to impress about him is how he finds pocketed spaces that allow whoever he shares the screen with their moment to shine. Chalamet is happy taking a back seat knowing he doesn’t always have to be the centre of attention, and that shared understanding not only allows the scene to breathe but gives Unknown some of its best engaging moments.

It’s clear Mangold enjoys this period of American culture, a time of highly-charged political changes, rebellious spirits and generational shifts where its resonance is still felt today. Mangold’s tribute to Bob Dylan is a sincere effort despite the near 2 ½ hours running time steeped in convention and light touches. But as a tried-and-tested formula, the confidence in Chalamet’s performance brings the vision home.