The
popularity of the biopic can be traced back to the first feature-length
film, The Story of the Kelly Gang (1906). It feels as though in recent
years this genre has gained pace and I suspect that it is the format
through which an increasing audience engages with historical narratives,
which make sense of contemporary times.
When I
was at university my interest in studying history came from the film
studies major that carried me through my first undergraduate degree. The
unit called History On Film forced me to sit through Forrest Gump
(1994) and allowed me to write an essay on The Elephant Man (1980),
which was an early David Lynch movie that impacted me as a child. That
latter film was analysed through the lens of narrative to show how it
referenced Mary Shelley's Frankenstein story, for example.
Storytelling
has always drawn on the significance of other narratives to give
meaning and resonances and there are so many ways, from explicit
acknowledgment through to allusions or Shakespeare's famous plays within
plays. Soundtracks are also employed to great effect and there are
songs that have become cliches in movie trailers from overuse in
creating meaning. The musical biopic uses these techniques with the
added benefit of blurring diegetic and nondiegetic songs, through having
music performed by characters transformed into overtures.
An
aspect of storytelling in contemporary films, particularly those
influenced by Hollywood, has been a preoccupation with structure and, I
think, biopics often suffer from feeling like they've put a lifetime of
experiences into a mold like a biscuit-cutter to give them a certain
shape from the pacing of emotional beats. Academy Award-winning
screenwriter Michael Arndt has discussed a structure that is widely used
beyond biopics to create a satisfying ending through linking character
and contextual arcs —although, I'm not going to elaborate too much on
that here.
It does a good job of
explaining the outrage that accompanied Dylan's move to electric
instruments at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965, although I get the
impression from reading reviews from younger viewers that this is
possibly not as remarkable these days. In the film you already see
Johnny Cash performing with accompaniment from an electric guitar.
In
some ways I think the film's focus on concluding with Newport fails
to achieve those arcs mentioned earlier for character and their context.
Maybe this is part of what led one reviewer to write that the film
"lacks purpose," which surprised me as I found it gave me a new
appreciation for what Brian Eno calls the "scenius" -- where the milieu
of an artist becomes a focus, rather than the individual.
In
the cinematic version of Dylan's origins a good deal of the events
shown include those roles played by Joan Baez and a Sylvie Russo, who is
largely based on Suze Rotolo and she was significant for politicising
the folk singer. It's hard to imagine that a song like 'Blowin' In The
Wind' could've pushed his career along without either of these women.
It's their place in the film that prompted me to write, as I think the
equivalent of the Frankenstein moment in The Elephant Man is a bit early
on where Dylan and Russo/Rotolo discuss Picasso. The film could have
shown that Dylan made his own visual art in the 1960s, but I feel the
brief reference to the famous Spaniard is highlighting how we view that
painter's career through the influence of his muses.
A
Complete Unknown is a fun film and I found the music particularly good.
It left me feeling like clapping throughout! In particular I thought Ed
Norton brought a great dad-like energy in his role as Pete Seeger.
There weren't many people at the screening I attended, so go see it soon
if you want the cinema experience.
