A Complete Unknown (2024): Review – Timothée Chalamet Mumbles His Way Through the Best Bob Dylan Biopic We Didn’t Ask For
If you’ve ever thought, “You know what would make my week? Watching Timothée Chalamet wear a harmonica like a fashion statement while pretending to hate fame,” then A Complete Unknown (2024) is your cinematic bingo card. Directed by James Mangold – the man who brought us everything from Logan to Ford v Ferrari to Indiana Jones and the Death of Logic – this Bob Dylan biopic is a surprisingly reverent yet entertaining look at one of music’s most mythologised mumblers.
Yes, it’s another musical biopic. No, it’s not a Bohemian Rhapsody-style jukebox farce with teeth whitened for streaming. This one actually has artistic intent, god help us.
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The Plot: A Boy, A Guitar and A Nation on the Brink of a Nervous Breakdown
Let’s get the obvious out of the way – A Complete Unknown is not a start-to-finish life story where Baby Bob is born clutching a harmonica and dies whispering lyrics to the wind. It focuses tightly on Dylan’s early years – specifically the mid-60s point where he transformed from scrappy folk darling to electric messiah of counterculture. In other words, it zooms in on the bit where he metaphorically (and almost literally) tells the folk scene to shove it while plugging in an electric guitar at the Newport Folk Festival.
This is the Dylan of chaos: the one who redefined songwriting while confusing everyone in the process. If you came here for Greatest Hits and nice moments with Joan Baez under candlelight, best head back to Walk the Line. This is more “Zen riddles through a haze of smoke and political upheaval.”
And yes, Timothée Chalamet sings. No auto-tune. No double. No safety net. Just him, channeling a young Bob Dylan like a haunted thrift-store mannequin given life by Allen Ginsberg’s ghost.
James Mangold: Directing Like It’s a Damn Legend
You’ve got to hand it to James Mangold. He’s made a career out of turning “That might not work” into “Oh wait, that was actually decent.” He gave Wolverine a gritty Western swan song, somehow made race car drama sexy and now, he’s taking on Bob Dylan – a man who was allergic to narrative structure even in his own autobiography.
Mangold doesn’t treat Dylan like a prophet or a rockstar. He treats him like an enigma caught in a machine, a reluctant legend sidestepping fame like it’s a sexually transmitted infection. You can feel the tension between art and fame, protest and apathy, truth and theatre. It’s less a music biopic, more a cinematic tone poem punctuated by harmonica solos.
In short, Mangold respects the chaos. And when you’re dealing with Dylan, that’s half the bloody job.
Timothée Chalamet: Cheekbones of Destiny, Voice of Gravel
Let’s talk Chalamet. The man’s played everything from a hormonal peach-fancier in Call Me By Your Name to a wan sand prince in Dune. But here, he steps into the curled boots of America’s most reluctant poet with a commitment that borders on spiritual possession.
He’s not doing an impression. This isn’t a Saturday Night Live sketch with wigs and fake nasal tones. It’s a proper performance – restrained, lived-in, strange. Chalamet doesn’t just play Dylan, he embodies that maddening mix of insecurity, arrogance and otherworldly insight. He shuffles, sneers, deflects and delivers lyrics like they were channeled directly from another dimension.
And yes, again: he sings. If you were expecting a butchered karaoke version of “Like a Rolling Stone,” you’ll be disappointed. He actually nails it – or rather, he captures the essence of it. Which, given Dylan’s relationship with traditional pitch, is possibly even more impressive.
The Soundtrack: No Cheap Nostalgia Here
This isn’t a mixtape of Dylan’s bangers sandwiched between montages of teary-eyed fans. The film treats the music as part of the drama – not a break from it. Chalamet performs many of the songs live on camera, warts and all. There’s no sheen. No studio gloss. Just raw, emotionally dissonant performances that sound like they might fall apart mid-verse – which, let’s face it, is basically Dylan’s aesthetic.
From “The Times They Are A-Changin’” to “Maggie’s Farm,” the film uses these songs not just as mood-setters, but as narrative devices. They speak when Dylan won’t. They rage when he sulks. They illuminate what’s deliberately obscured in every side-eyed shrug he gives the press.
It’s not a jukebox. It’s a manifesto.
Supporting Cast: The Bohemian Rhapsody Without the Camp
The film features Elle Fanning as Sylvie Russo – a fictional folk singer who represents the women left dazed and bruised in Dylan’s creative wake. She’s not just the love interest. She’s the witness. The reminder that for every cultural revolution, there’s collateral damage.
Also lurking in the haze are portrayals of real-world figures like Woody Guthrie, Joan Baez and Pete Seeger, though this isn’t Forrest Gump. No one’s green-screened into historical footage. They’re treated with the messy ambiguity they deserve.
A few critics will call this film “meandering” or “frustratingly elusive,” which is true. But that’s the bloody point. Bob Dylan was frustratingly elusive. The man built a career on giving interviews that sounded like someone doing riddles after six pints of absinthe.
Cinematography and Vibes™: Folk Noir for the Soul
Visually, A Complete Unknown feels like it was shot through nicotine-stained glass. There’s a permanent haze – part nostalgia, part emotional fog. It’s gorgeously grimy. The cinematography borrows more from noir and New Wave than anything remotely resembling Hollywood biopic gloss.
New York feels like a character – cold, indifferent, buzzing with the energy of something breaking apart and reforming. The club scenes are claustrophobic; the concert footage is jittery and immersive. It’s like being locked inside the head of a man who both loves and loathes attention.
It’s beautiful. And occasionally, like Dylan’s own lyrics, completely impenetrable.
What It’s Really About (Aside From Dylan)
At its core, A Complete Unknown is a film about identity. Not the cuddly Instagram kind, but the messy, performative, existentially exhausting kind. Who are we, really? Are we the person we say we are? Or the version people see on stage? Can you be authentic while being watched by millions? And more importantly, can anyone truly understand what Dylan was banging on about in “Desolation Row”?
The film doesn’t pretend to answer these questions. It just throws them at you like open-mic poetry and lets you stew in it.
Trivia & Tidbits: Things You Didn’t Know About A Complete Unknown (And Maybe Wish You Still Didn’t)
Timothée Chalamet Actually Sings. Really.
That hushed, breathy warble you hear in the film? That’s all Chalamet. No ghost vocals, no studio wizardry. He trained for months to mimic Dylan’s distinctive nasal twang. It’s unclear whether he was method acting or just really into karaoke at 3am.
It’s Not Really a Biopic (Because Dylan Said So).
Bob Dylan hates the word “biopic” almost as much as he hates answering straight questions. The film takes inspiration from real events but jettisons anything resembling a traditional narrative. It’s more like a fever dream curated by someone who owns three vintage typewriters and a collection of bootleg vinyls.
No Permission? No Problem.
While Dylan eventually gave the film his blessing (and music rights), the project began with a script that sort of tiptoed around the idea of being a Dylan biopic. For a while, it was the cinematic equivalent of “I’m not saying it’s about him, but it definitely is.”
Filming Was Delayed by an Actor’s Strike – and Dylan Didn’t Care.
Production was stalled during the 2023 SAG-AFTRA strike. Meanwhile, Dylan continued his Rough and Rowdy Ways tour like a man who had never heard of Hollywood. Spoiler: He probably hasn’t.
It Reunites Director James Mangold with Musical Icons (Again).
After Walk the Line (2005) – the Johnny Cash biopic – Mangold returns to the music genre, proving once again he has a knack for making tortured geniuses both mythic and kind of unbearable. At this point, he’s a few Leonard Cohen candles away from becoming a spiritual medium for dead singer-songwriters.
No “Blowin’ in the Wind”?
Despite being one of Dylan’s most iconic songs, “Blowin’ in the Wind” is noticeably absent from the film’s early press screenings. Either they’re saving it for the end credits… or someone forgot to pay royalties.
There’s a Cameo You’ll Miss Unless You’re a Hardcore Dylan Nerd.
A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment features an actor resembling Allen Ginsberg in the background of a Greenwich Village coffeehouse scene. If you caught it, congratulations – you win a beatnik starter pack and a crippling sense of nostalgia.
The Working Title Was… Not Great.
Before settling on A Complete Unknown, the film was rumoured to be titled Going Electric. Which sounds less like a biopic and more like a dodgy reboot of Tron starring folk singers.
Yes, There’s a Tambourine. And Yes, You’ll Hear It.
Would it really be a Dylan movie without one? Of course not. There’s even a lovingly shot scene featuring a lone tambourine on a stage. It’s probably a metaphor. Or maybe the props department just ran out of ideas.
My Final Thoughts: A Biopic That Actually Has the Guts to Be Weird
Here’s the shocking part: A Complete Unknown might be the best music biopic since I’m Not There and possibly the only one since then with the audacity to not spoon-feed you a three-act morality play.
This film isn’t for casual fans who just want to hear “Blowin’ in the Wind” and get weepy. It’s for people fascinated by myth-making, media manipulation and the weirdness of being talented in a world that wants you to pick a side, smile for the camera, and stay exactly the same.
It won’t make you understand Bob Dylan. It might make you like him less. But it will absolutely make you feel something – and then question whether that feeling was yours, or just something you read in Rolling Stone.
If You Like A Complete Unknown, I Recommend These Movies:
I’m Not There (2007) – Six Dylans, one Cate Blanchett and zero chance you’ll fully understand it sober.
Walk the Line (2005) – Johnny Cash biopic where Joaquin Phoenix broods, sweats and out-Dylans Dylan.
Inside Llewyn Davis (2013) – A folk singer, a cat and a slow descent into beautiful, tuneful misery.
A Complete Unknown
Bob Dylan
Pete Seeger
Sylvie Russo
Joan Baez
Woody Guthrie
Albert Grossman
Johnny Cash
Bob Neuwirth
