Last night my husband and I went to see “A Complete Unknown,” the Bob Dylan biopic based on Elijah Wald’s book Bob Dylan Turns Electric.

To say we were in awe of Timothee Chalamet’s performance is an understatement. He was brilliant. I understand that he worked five years on preparation for this role—learning to sing and play guitar to replicate Dylan’s voice and musicianship. The movie had an excellent cast and was well paced. I predict we will watch it many, many times. Apparently, the film’s music was performed live. If anyone knows if Chalamet did the motorcycle sequences, I would love to hear about it in the comments. 

I don’t want to give any spoilers but at one point in the film, Dylan’s audience responds negatively to his music because it isn’t delivered in the style they expected. Dylan seems unperturbed. In fact, he seems to enjoy their outrage. I found myself thinking, “How can these people reject his work? The songs are brand new. They’re what he’s into. Just go with it.”

A moment later, my husband leaned over and whispered, “Kind of like when we were in Regina, right?”

Right.

Throughout the film, I’d been feeling guilty about my negative response to a Dylan concert experience. In 2013, we bought tickets to see him at the Brandt in Regina and took along Blaire, our youngest daughter. Although I’m too young to have listened to Dylan in his heyday, my brother had a few of his albums. I’m not a huge fan of Dylan, particularly his voice, but he’s Bob Dylan. He was coming to our neighbourhood, and we needed to see him. He’s one of the greatest songwriters of his generation.

Mark Knopfler, lead singer for Dire Straits, opened. We didn’t recognize a single tune that Knopfler played as he focused on his Privateering album and his body of work as a solo artist. Even so, his set, which had a Celtic flare, was fantastic. Many of the young musicians accompanying him played Celtic instruments. The Brandt was on fire! On the way home, I downloaded three albums of Knopfler’s music. If you’re not familiar with it, give “Darling Pretty,” “Corned Beef Blues,” and “Miss You Blues” a listen.

After intermission, Bob and his band shuffled out, wearing black coats and broad-brimmed hats. The stage was lit with what appeared to be living room floor lamps. I wondered if the audience seated on the other side of the rink could even see Dylan. The set list was performed in a style which I can only describe as “Chopsticks,” making each song virtually unrecognizable. At one point I said to my husband, “My favourite number is ‘A Simple Twist of Fate.’” I listened for a moment and then said, “Oh. Wait. They’re playing it right now.” 

Furthermore, Dylan’s band looked miserable, even bored, the opposite of Knopfler’s enthusiastic, energetic accompanists.

To add to our disgust, the security guard assigned to our area was vigilant in monitoring cell phone use. He wouldn’t even permit us to take them out to check the time. He was constantly in someone’s face. Likely Dylan had insisted that no one record or take pictures. I had no idea why anyone would want to.  At the end of the concert, I told the security guard that he had ruined the event for all of us. 

This was categorically one of the worst concerts I’ve attended. Others have told me that they felt entirely the opposite—as they were carried away by the euphoria of seeing this music icon perform live.

I now realize Dylan couldn’t have cared less if we liked his vibe or not. He is the consummate rebel—the “complete unknown.” The film left me wondering if anyone truly knows him or understands him. The lyrics for “Rainy Day Woman,” another favourite, take on an entirely different significance.

Another revelation I had during the movie was how much Dylan might have influenced two of my favourite artists/bands—Blue Rodeo and Tom Petty. Petty’s vocal style is so like Dylan’s that I have no idea why it never occurred to me earlier. 

In any case, I’ll think differently about that concert in 2013 and about Dylan’s discography in general. I listened to Highway 61 Revisited this morning on a walk and picked up the pace by a solid minute.

Thank you for your music, Bob, but most especially for the poetry. I was too young to understand you in the ’60’s, but I’m paying attention now.