Hey, I'm over here!

I'm Not There
directed by Todd Haynes
starring Cate Blanchett, Ben Whishaw,
Christian Bale, Richard Gere, Marcus Carl Franklin,
Heath Ledger
Rating: A





If a movie director stubbornly insists on dragging us back to the well-trod hardpan known as The Sixties one more time, then he'd be wise to keep in mind that many of us know where the bodies are buried, and spare us from the wailing sitars, the love beads, the groovy platitudes and the fuzzy acid washed philosophies that droop like so many overripe Sweet Dream peaches.

In other words, surprise us.

You couldn't ask for a more imaginative and enjoyable trip in the way-back machine than Todd Haynes's I'm Not There.

Haynes shoplifts the dusty idol called Bob Dylan straight off the shelf and parades him past the fun house mirrors not once but six times. The resulting fractured images are marshaled and maneuvered through time and space, race and gender are blurred, identity and ego are Silly-Putty malleable. It's audacious and idiosyncratic and gleefully self-indulgent, and it's as close to a work of genius as anything that is worthy of the label.

Rare is the agnostic on the subject of Bob Dylan's cultural significance. We stake our ground in one of two extreme camps; Dylan is a musical prophet or whining poser (me, I'm an Old Cadre Dylanista patiently awaiting the end of the rainy season and the delivery of my marching orders).

But all the messy emotional baggage that comes along with any discussion of Dylan can be safely left in the vestibule and Haynes's film can be viewed by both the unbeliever and the pious for what it is - a celebration of the many incarnations of the mumbling Oracle of Hibbing, Minnesota, a good-natured mugging of bone-weary narrative techniques, a six-ring circus, and a cinematic equivalent of a physics thought experiment.

Haynes uses his avatars to explore various aspects of Dylan's life and legend, with special attention paid to the extraordinary fuss made when the heir apparent to Woody Guthrie plugged in his axe and kicked out the jams at the Newport Folk Festival in 1965 (for many it was as if the Dalai Lama had suddenly decided to become an international arms dealer). The result is a kind of "many universes theory" of a man who has spent his entire life like a ragged Gypsy moth fighting any attempt to be pinned and mounted.

To single out one actor in I'm Not There as exceptional is both unfair and close to impossible.

Marcus Carl Franklin is an old soul in a youngster's body, Heath Ledger is (tragically) an intriguing amalgam of Steve McQueen cool and Laurence Olivier control - even our old pal Richard Gere takes a break from fussing with his hair long enough to give a sensitive and sincere performance.

But Cate Blanchett is the straw that stirs the drink. She plays Jude Quinn, the androgynous and reluctant superstar who amuses himself/herself by spewing pearls of coldly calculated Zen-like wisdom and enjoying the mad stampede that ensues to catch them. (To really appreciate just how amazing Blanchett is in this role, I highly recommend Martin Scorsese's documentary No Direction Home as a companion piece to Haynes's film).

Todd Haynes has taken an unorthodox narrative structure, a Mulligan stew of visual and audio techniques, and enough brilliant performances to fill - well, six movies, and crafted a film that is partly an irreverent puppet show and partly a hymn of praise. He gives as much concrete form as possible to a subject who prides himself on being shadows and fog, and he does it with a light touch and great sensitivity.