Martin Scorsese’s Bob Dylan documentary is below expectations

Here is a question I never thought would arise for a film by the great Martin Scorsese. Why  was this documentary on a well-known concert tour by the legendary Bob Dylan,  made? For the love  of Dylan ? Or for  the  love of Dylan’s massive fan-following?

At the risk of sounding blasphemous I must confess I’ve never understood what Bob Dylan sings. Except for the track ‘Blowing In The Wind’(a prominent part  of this week’s  Hindi release Article 15) I am yet to decode what  ‘Upon four-legged forest clouds…The cowboy angel rides’  and  ‘He just smoked my eyelids…And punched my cigarette’ means. Those who have the answer, please share.

The  Scorsese documentary has made Dylan even more inaccessible for me. It conjures up a collage of frames and images shot during the 1975 Dylan concerts, when something  monstrously relevant was said to be happening to American politics (Nixon was the cause of friction) and juxtaposes them with fictional material that  probably—mind you, PROBABLY—reflects what went on inside that Nobel prize-winning mind while America churned.

The Dylan we see in this film is inscrutable and obstinate, unyielding and opinionated. The images of Dylan on stage and Dylan backstage don’t speak to me at all. They tell me nothing about his personality.

There is a lengthy conversation between Dylan and the love of his life Joan Baez. I listened to it twice in the hope of a clue to the great genius’ mind. But hell, this genius  even speaks his normal conversations like the lyrics of a song. Which means, essentially we are clueless. The answer, my friend, may be blowing in the wind. But it ain’t reaching my mind. Sorry.

Besides the sheer  randomness of  the material (I mean, does anyone care what happened during a series of Dylan concerts in 1975?) the other big obstacle to enjoying this piece of enigmatic inanity is the sheer incoherence of  the opinions expressed. The show managers and co-musicians who speak about Dylan express awe. But there is no real love in that tone of  hero-worship.

Is Dylan really as great an artiste as he’s made out to be? This  documentary  offers  no clues.I came away as  confused  by the  purpose  of this  film, as  I am by Dylan’s  lyrics.  I wouldn’t recommend it  to even diehard Dylan devotees. As  for the non-believers, try the new Elton John  bio-pic Rocketman  instead. He is  more  fun.And  less joyless.