A Complete Unknown (2024)

A Complete Unknown is a story about the relentless pace of change, whilst steeped in its own nostalgia. This is not a criticism, just an observation. This is a successful film and that success lies in part in the nostalgic atmosphere, as well as the conflict of the drama – progression vs. tradition, or change vs. consistency.

A traditional film review will rate the film on writing, directing, production values and performances. So, I can say all of these are great. It is no surprise that there is an Oscar buzz around the film and Timothée Chalamet in particular.

But I watched the film with an acute sense of my own nostalgia – even though I was not alive when the action occurred.

Here is a photo of my Dad on his honeymoon in Scotland in 1963. My Mum must’ve taken the photo. I understand that it was a wet holiday, where they would alternate between camping and drying out the tent while they stayed in a Bed and Breakfast. My Dad is reading a copy of Sing Out!, the folk journal, in which Pete Seeger was a regular columnist. My Dad was a Bob Dylan and a Pete Seeger fan. In his out of tune, high-pitched voice he sang about Little Boxes made of ticky-tacky to his daughters and his grandchildren. By some sort of osmosis I was aware of the story being shown on screen.

My Dad’s politics and those of Pete Seeger aligned. He was a gentle, caring socialist. He was a history teacher less interested in kings, queens and battles, but the stories of movements and ideas.

A Complete Unknown opens with Pete Seeger in front of congress standing up against charges of Unamerican Activity. From the start his quiet, but persistent demeanour is central. I recognised his tone from the records, but also in my Dad who could quietly show his support and advocacy for the children with learning disabilities he went on to work with. He used the same tactics of quiet, unassuming, but carefully crafted argument. (Unless he was hungry and then well, my Dad’s language could turn quite blue).

A Complete Unknown isn’t history. It is a story. It is concerned with Dylan's move to electric instruments. It was a pivotal moment of change and resistance that formed a part of the 1950s and 1960s folk revival. But not all details are accurate. Elle Fanning plays Dylan’s girlfriend renamed as Sylvie Russo from a real-life relationship that Dylan didn’t want named in the film. The timing of Dylan meeting Johnny Cash is a little out. And while the board of the Newport Folk Festival disapproved of Dylan’s electric set, Seeger himself was actually supportive. Most importantly, the heckle of “Judas” actually took place at the Free Trade Hall in Manchester a year later. (I know why the film chose to place it at Newport, but as a resident of the North of England this did rankle a little. The North quite often gets ignored and written out of policy and history).

But the film is not an historical re-enactment. It is a story. A story about time, place and ideas.

Film has a massive advantage over the written word when it comes to setting. A large caption says 1961 and the clothes, shop fronts and cars give us the detail. It is an interesting era to evoke cinematically. It isn’t the glamour of Hollywood’s heyday, or the pastel cheesiness of a 1950s rom com. It isn’t the metallic sci-fi future. Instead, the film’s setting looks familiar but shabby. A Greenwich Village that needs it window sills dusting. An out of town hospital that isn’t clinical white. A New York city with yellow taxis, but less crowds. A black and white TV screen that flickers in the background with serious intonation. A colour palette that looks muted and ragged. It looks old-fashioned. It needs shaking up.

There is something interesting about a bio-pic that isn’t about a whole life, but an episode. This seems a more interesting and honest way of telling a story – a more convincing narrative arc than a full-life approach. We pass through people’s lives and they can’t know our whole back story. And it allows us to focus on the specifics, the details, on the context. It gives an opportunity to consider what an era offers a character, as well as what the characters stamp on the era.

I wonder how to do this with story writing – how to evoke the nostalgia of an era, without the reliance on clichés, and overblown descriptions of things the characters will barely notice. But A Complete Unknown gave me some clues. It is all about the senses. Dylan is rarely without a cigarette, how does the stale tobacco smell? There is the texture of the bedding. There is the taste of the beer and the fresh air and the closeness of crowds. And of course there is the music.

I like some folk and blues music. When I met my partner I was playing John Lee Hooker on a cassette recorder. I understand the appeal of the pared-back song. Pete Seeger was right when he said a good song can stand alone. But sometimes I thirst for something more. And as the film progressed I was craving something deeper to the point I felt relieved when the electric Hammond organ finally made its debut, giving depth and layers to the music.

Nostalgia and tradition matter, but they shouldn’t hold back new ideas and ways of creating.

And good writing takes our senses on a journey that lets us know what we might be missing.

I miss my Dad.

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