Dont Look Back

Do you know that feeling when a song captures you completely? One minute there's all these thoughts running around in your head and the next minute someone switches the radio on and it's kinda like it screams, STOP!

You can feel it. You let your whole being be absorbed by it. You're on a high. Then you catch your breath . . .

Bob Dylan, as depicted in Don't Look Back, is the kind of megastar that can grip you emotionally and intellectually. While their neighbours joined screaming mobs that bayed at the Beatles, Bob Dylan fans listen in rapt silence, taking in every word.

"How many times must the cannon balls fly - Before they're forever banned? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind, The answer is blowin' in the wind."

He inhabits a hallowed quality. Anti-war protesters, educated and disenchanted youth, all see him as their hero. An emblem of hope. Dylan inspired people. Made them feel they could make a difference. Somehow make it a better world.

It was also the Swinging Sixties. Music videos hadn't been invented. In cinema, TV commercials director Richard Lester had kicked off a style of pop musical with the Beatles in A Hard Day's Night (1964). Andy Warhol projected live footage of a band to heighten a live performance (The Velvet Underground and Nico, 1966). Whereas for the opening scene of D.A. Pennebaker's film, Don't Look Back, a deadpan Dylan simply discards one large white card after another. They contain random words from the overlaid soundtrack song, Subterranean Homesick Blues.

That scene has been copied and parodied. Like the kiss-on-the-beach-at-the-edge-of-the-waves in From Here To Eternity, far more people know of and recognise the scene than have ever seen the film. Words are deliberately misspelt. Alan Ginsberg haunts the background as if he's wandered in from another film lot. The scene became one of the first 'music videos'. And the film became one of the early examples of fly-on-the-wall cinema.

Don't Look Back is one of the important movies of the decade for its development of cinema verité, a documentary style with many offshoots but at that point made possible with the new lightweight cameras and sound recorders. These were less intrusive and meant that events could be recorded in a way less staged, the filmmakers having opportunity to follow subjects down corridors or seemingly eavesdrop on conversations.

Don't Look Back follows Bob Dylan through his most iconic phase, dark glasses and leather jacket, on his 1965 UK tour at the height of his fame. (He is about to dispense with a rustic folksy style and upset fans by embracing rock and roll and electric guitars.) It is the Bob Dylan so cryptically emulated by Cate Blanchett in I'm Not There. This is the legend. And the man who became a legend in his own lifetime, constantly reinventing his poetry. He would one day be awarded a special Pulitzer Prize for his "profound impact on popular music and American culture, marked by lyrical compositions of extraordinary poetic power." Not to mention an honorary degree from the prestigious St Andrews University in Scotland.

The follow-the-tour format is a little like In Bed With Madonna. But the immediacy of the film foreshadow movies like Control. Stark black and white photography and a personality that dominates the screen without even trying. Joan Baez (who was near the end of an affair with Dylan) is singing in a hotel room. Dylan looks up with rapt attention (and obvious admiration) for the shy young folk singer Donovan. And clips from his sell-out Albert Hall concert. Throughout – and in sharp contrast to almost everyone else captured in all their bygone sixties primness – Dylan still looks cool and self-assured in his own skin even by 21st century standards. Somehow his image hasn't aged.

There was something almost mystical about Dylan at the time. Press conferences in the film (that would also be re-staged later in I'm Not There) show journalists nonplussed by the youngsters response. News stories marvel at how thousands of well-behaved youngsters are packing concert halls – in essence to listen to several hours of one man's poetry. His lyrics, ranging from poignant stories to stream-of-consciousness collections, were emotionally resonant with metaphors and phrases that could be appropriated to every person's private suffering, every cry of pain behind anti-establishment (and particularly anti-war) sentiments. Dylan never claimed to be any other than a poet and a guitarist. "I got nothing to say about these things I write – I just write them . . . I don't write them for any reason. There's no message." His almost angry 1960s disclaimer in the film will still be uttered almost 40 years later at great length in his Chronicles biography. No-one wanted to believe he was only interested in writing poetry. But his openness and honesty in facing down critics is disarming.

For non-music fans and people not specifically interested in the period, the film has slightly less to offer. Poor definition on many hand-held shots gives a lack of visual elegance. The lack of any voice-over means the viewer has to work out many details themselves. And, while it is a remarkable and very vibrant portrait of an esteemed artists at one of the most famous and influential periods of his career, there are maybe too few songs for fans.

Dylan would go on to win Grammy, Golden Globe and Academy Awards and receive several Nobel Prize nominations for literature. The film stops long before he had achieved such mainstream critical acclaim. It never features him singing the credits song, Subterranean Homesick Blues, or the song from which the title is taken. Ironically, it looks back to a period he himself had abandoned by the time the film was released.

To get this window into Bob Dylan on tour in England in 1965, at that specific time, and with such a high level of access, makes this documentary fascinating. Dylan was the voice of a generation, a true poet, and the film was made after a string of albums changed popular music forever (including Freewheelin', The Times They Are a-Changin', and Bringing It All Back Home) but right before he "went electric" to great controversy at Newport, and released Highway 61. Throughout his career, he defied boundaries and labels others tried to constrain him with, and deliberately tore himself down in one genre in order to explore another as an artist. We see some of his frustration here, with the British press baffled about how to approach or analyze him, and Dylan going from earnestly trying to answer questions early on to getting antagonistic with them. Combined with concert footage, and moments like Joan Baez and Dylan singing in his hotel room, it's a true gem.

This is the documentary that gave meaning to the term "cinema-verite";

a term used to describe films that looked as if they were happening in real time. This is one of those films. It is a gritty black and white documentary that follows the legendary Bob Dylan during a tour in England. This is not a conventional rock documentary where we are shown endless concert footage and interviews with musicians talking about their philosophies and the meanings of their songs. Instead, the camera follows Dylan in a frenzy capturing every detail of social interaction with his fans, entourage, and the press. Dylan appears arrogant but it is no surprise when Pennebaker allows us to see the hypocrisy and greed of the outside world. A memorable moment in the film involves a fan whose invited himself backstage to meet Bob Dylan. He asks him absurd questions such as "what is your attitude on life?" Dylan decides to tease him and the conversation gets pretty ugly. Nevertheless, it is an important scene to the film because it shows us how difficult it is for a superstar such a Dylan to keep a smile and act nice to everyone. Do we gain sympathy for Dylan? We do because we see how alienated he feels among even his closest friends. We also feel a sense of envy for his ability to be so unapologetic and rebellious about his attitude. He is honest but he also has to protect himself from the public. After a Time magazine reporter asks him whether or not he cares what he's saying . Dylan attacks him and then tries to give him a straight answer . "Do you think anyone who comes to these concerts is looking for anything other then entertainment?" The next day, Dylan hears a quote from the papers that describes him as an anarchist. The sequence of these events show clearly how Dylan is at a loss with the public's perception of him. He can't just be himself. He wants to come across as a guy like anyone else but his sarcastic and meaningless interaction with the press only makes things worse. The film also includes appearances with Joan Baez, Donovan, Allen Ginsberg, and Dylan's sleazy manager Albert Grossman. I've seen this film dozens of times and I still see something new with every viewing. It is a true masterpiece.

This is a look at one of the greatest minds in modern music during his most prodigious period. It does a great job of capturing the character of Dylan and placing it within the context of the events happening in the film. It's fascinating hearing him ask about electric instruments and talk about folk music when we know, in hindsight, that his shift from folk to rock would be one the most important artistic shifts in music history. The footage gathered and the way it's presented are good for allowing the subject to be seen as it is but I think a little more direction could've been used at times. That being said, I appreciated the honesty that the film treated Dylan with. We don't see him as anything close to perfect. He's not as wordy as you'd think, his logic isn't always sound and he's rude to the point of meanness but the viewer is still witness to his genius. This is a must-watch for any fan of music.

Perhaps I'm biased -- Bob Dylan is quite possibly my favourite performing artist in the world. This very cinema-verite look at Dylan's 1965 tour of England offers both a serious justification of the man's genius and a very unflattering look at the costs and results of that genius. This was clearly not a happy time for Dylan, who rushes through most of the songs included here like a man who clearly wishes he were somewhere else. Not that the performances are poor (quite the contrary) but the heart and sincerity are quite obviously missing (note how "The Times they are a-Changin'" speeds up gradually but unmistakably throughout the film). The backstage material (the bulk of the film) shows Dylan being generally nasty to everyone around him, including Joan Baez (well, he's not nasty precisely, but he never really even acknowledges her presence), a newspaper reporter (the "science student") and basically anyone he comes in contact with.

In other words, this is not a portrait of the artist that I happen to like, but it is the truth (or at least it was at that time). In addition, Albert Grossman, Dylan's manager, is shown in possibly the least flattering light possible. A bonus is that the film begins with the brilliant 1965 promotional clip for "Subterranean Homesick Blues", and watch for the scene in a hotel room when Dylan and Bob Neuwirth sing "Lost Highway" - it's worth the price of admission.