Anne Groves is global head of PR at Clifford Chance
With a soundtrack like this, it can hardly fail.
I'm Not There, a complex film with multiple layers of allusion and reference, creates a atmospheric and beguiling narrative around the ever-changing personality and public persona of Bob Dylan, accompanied by a soundtrack of his music over almost 40 years.
Using six actors to represent aspects of the artist from the age of eleven, director Todd Haynes gives a highly impressionist account of his life and times: no character has Dylan's name but all embody different facets of his persona.
One big existential question posed in the film is 'who is Bob Dylan?'. Right from the start the young Dylan is creating an identity for himself. 'Woody' - in a wonderfully assured performance by youngster Marcus Carol Franklin - is already weaving an image to the two hobos he encounters on a train and to two different families he stays with. He is later seen quietly playing guitar at the deathbed of Woody Guthrie, a seminal influence on Dylan.
The film moves between colour and black and white in a number of different film styles: lush colour photography for a period in the 19th century where Richard Gere - 'Billy' - protests about land rights in a US countryside idyll; amateurish video style for the awkward young protest performer and later gospel singer, played by Christian Bale; and grainy black and white reportage style during the London tour of 'Jude Quinn' in the 1960's.
Playing styles vary too. Some is naturalistic, such as Heath Ledger as the young artist developing into the seasoned performer, and his first wife 'Claire', poignantly played by Charlotte Gainsbourg.
Other scenes are highly stylised, notably when the shock of 'going electric' is emphasised by a scene in which the band strafes the crowd at Newport Folk Festival with machine gun fire. Ben Whishaw as 'Arthur Rimbaud' the poet, speaking directly to camera, offers advice to artists: 'never create; never change'.
The real revelation is Cate Blanchett as 'Quinn' - the superstar of the 60s on tour in the
Change is a recurring theme in the film: bewildered and angry folk music fans at the Newport Festival complain that 'he's changed' and let down his fans; interviewers challenge him as to why he has changed direction from protest songs and folk music to a more personal idiom; old friends lament the change in him that success has brought. Julianne Moore as the Joan Baez character recollects the power and charisma of the artist who started as her protégé before swiftly moving on.
In a later Blanchett scene, Quinn questions whether songs can ever change anything, although he also asserts that 'all I ever do is protest'.
This allusive, complex and highly inventive film brings to life both the elusive personality and 'the idea of Bob Dylan'. It's sometimes confusing and on occasions the director's intentions are not clear (I'm still not at all sure what the Richard Gere episode is about), but it's a hugely enjoyable evocation of the mysterious identities of one of the most significant cultural figures of our time.
'Go see it', as they say in NYC. It will open in
