I’ve never seen Bob Dylan live. In theory, I would love to, but I’ve been convinced that the artist whose music was such a beacon of personal resistance and revolution for me in my college years isn’t what he once was. As if by design, he deprives his audiences of the freewheeling early breakouts that largely define his career, favoring newer material—predominantly smoky R&B tracks with even smokier vocals. And yet, Bob Dylan, as presented in James Mangold’s smartly constructed and slippery biopic A Complete Unknown, has always, almost instinctually, rebelled against our expectations of him, bristling at the idea that his value as an artist is tied to his willingness to embrace any outmoded form of who he is. The Bob Dylan of today and the Bob Dylan of yesterday may be in conversation with one another, but the living continuum is not a hostage of the past. He doesn’t seek to be known, but he wants to be understood, especially for who he is in the here and now. Read More