A Complete Unknown

Timothée Chalamet

James Mangold's A Complete Unknown is a satisfying film, worthy of the plaudits it has received. The script by Mangold and Jay Cocks, based on Elijah Ward's Dylan Goes Electric, wisely restricts its purview to the four years between Dylan's move to New York City and his plugged in performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival. The focus is on the embrace of Dylan by the folk music community and Dylan's eventual estrangement from the orthodoxies of that movement. Even with the film's narrow focus, there is a lot left out: no Ramblin' Jack Elliott, no Paul Clayton, no Mavis Staples, no Suze Rotolo abortion, no Tom Paine Award speech, no Beatles, and no drugs. Naturally, you can't include everything in a two hour film, though I kinda feel the absence of Bob's copious consumption of reefer and speed in this period was the price Mangold had to pay for Dylan's cooperation. Nevertheless, Dylan's pallor and nocturnal habits in the second half of the film provide enough of a clue to what was going on with Bobby after he hit it big.

Even with the director of Walk the Line at the helm, I honestly thought that this project was going to be the usual biopic debacle. Surely Chalamet was too tall and too lightweight of a performer to portray the Nobel laureate. I stand corrected. Chalamet fully inhabits his role and is especially convincing as a musical performer. Even Dylan detractors like Leonard Maltin can grok the songs now that the nasal whine of the Bobster is lessened. As good as Chalamet is, for me the outstanding performance of the film is Edward Norton's uncanny impersonation of Pete Seeger. Norton's rendering of Seeger's basic decency and timbre is completely dead on. Indeed, A Complete Unknown is a feast of supporting performances that conjure the historical figures without resorting to impersonation: including Monica Barbaro as Joan Baez, Boyd Holbrook as Johnny Cash, Dan Fogler as Albert Grossman, Will Harrison as Bob Neuwirth, and Norman Leo Butz as Alan Lomax. The only actor I was not satisfied with was Elle Fanning as the Suze Rotolo stand-in called here by the name of Sylvie Russo. This is not entirely Fanning's fault. Rotolo was an Italian-American red diaper baby and Fanning just seems too much of a WASP for the role. If I have a slight criticism of the film is that its heavy use of recreated musical performances tends to ameliorate the drive of the narrative. When the script shows real life events intersecting with the legend of Bob Deity, like the sequence of Dylan regarding his neighbors watching President Kennedy address on the Cuban Missile Crisis, Mangold's subtle touch reaps dividends. I'm a big Dylan fan, so the more poetic musings of a Martin Scorsese or a Todd Haynes to me better capture the complexities and profundity of the subject. However, if someone who was ignorant of the life and work of the bard from Hibbing wanted to watch a film to learn about the man and his music, I'd unhesitatingly recommend A Complete Unknown.  

Rebel Ridge

 

Aaron Pierre

I came away a lot less excited about Jeremy Saulnier's Rebel Ridge than most. Aaron Pierre plays Terry, an ex-Marine driving his ten speed alone through Louisiana (!), with $30,000 in bail money (!) to spring a cousin from jail. The corrupt local cops pull him over, throw him in the hoosegow on trumped up charges, and confiscate his loot. Terry spends the rest of the film trying to reclaim his money and spring his cousin. His only help comes from a courthouse clerk played by AnnaSophia Robb. Snooping by the two triggers a showdown with the Sheriff (Don Johnson) after a wearying series of subterfuges and double crosses. Terry, a martial arts expert, tries to avoid killing the police officers hunting him, so we get the crunch of bone instead of the splatter of brain. Progress?

I have enjoyed most of Saulnier's previous films, but what I appreciated in them is what is most lacking in Rebel Ridge: tautness and restraint. The film is 131 minutes, but could have been improved were it 40 minutes shorter. Rebel Ridge is an B picture inflated with pretension. The message seems to be that there are racist and corrupt members of the constabulary in the deep south. As they say in New Orleans, quelle surprise! A cutting edge statement, for 1947. Saulnier's skill as a director makes most of the non-lethal whup-ass watchable, but his self written narrative is hokey. Maybe I should cut the guy some slack because Rebel Ridge was a troubled shoot, delayed by COVID and other problems. John Boyega, originally cast as Terry, left the project after a month of filming and his character appears in nearly every scene. I appreciated Aaron Pierre's understated performance and felt that it helped ground a film prone to hysteric overkill. Pierre seems to realize that his character's mythic aura need not be proclaimed loudly. He is nonchalant even plucking, bare handed, a fish from a stream. I also liked Ms. Robb, who showed promise early in both Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Bridge to Terabithia. Most of the other actors are fine, but Saulnier indulges his veterans. Don Johnson is pure cornpone as the sheriff and James Cromwell muffs his accent as a judge. Overall, Rebel Ridge is not bad, but it is certainly not good. 

Hickey & Boggs

Bill Cosby and Robert Culp

Robert Culp's Hickey and Boggs, from 1972, is a mediocre LA based noir with Bill Cosby (Hickey) and Culp (Boggs) as private investigators. The project was a reteaming of the pair who had starred together in the lightweight television espionage series I Spy. Cosby had insisted that Culp direct as a condition for participating on the film. This brought mixed results. Culp excels in the dialogue free exposition sequences, but flubs the film's action sequences. The ensemble scenes, mostly focusing on the film's cops busting Hickey and Boggs' chops, are lively, but Culp is so indulgent with his cast that Vincent Gardenia and Robert Gandan over act badly. There are a number of good performance by faces familiar to those who revere 1970s American cinema: Rosalind Cash, Michael Moriarty, Ed Lautner, and James Woods.

The film's script, which has Hickey and Boggs investigating a missing woman sought by both the police and the mob, was the first Walter Hill screenplay to be produced and is the film's major asset. However, Hill envisioned a seamier picture than what resulted. He thought that the ideal casting would have been Jason Robards (as Hickey) and Strother Martin. Cosby and Culp have a pleasant, PG rated cameraderie that is somewhat at odds with the picture's milieu. When the lead actors are confronted with darker moments in the script, Boggs' drinking and Hickey's losing a loved one, they flounder. Still, I felt Hickey and Boggs is better than its rather dire reputation. Most people can probably live without it, but fans of 1970s noir should check it out.