Hip, hip, hooray.
Happy birthday, Bobby.
It was Bob Dylan's birthday yesterday. The curly-haired musician is still alive at 65 years old.
And what better way to celebrate his birthday than to remember what the boy from Minnesota was up to in 1965?
D. A. Pennebaker filmed the documentary, "Don't Look Back," during Dylan's last solo acoustic tour in the middle of jolly old England in the 60s. The film depicts Dylan's arrogance toward reporters, brilliantly unaccompanied concerts and witty exchanges with friends and fans in a very intimate setting.
The close-up camera angles and long scenes may come across as a shock for many viewers accustomed to big-budget Hollywood films, but that's part of the allure. "Don't Look Back" is a black-and-white documentary that feels like a home movie with Dylan's slippery demeanor at the forefront.
The film opens with the famous scene of Dylan holding up cue cards that build on the lyrics of his song, "Subterranean Homesick Blues," with the famous American poet Allen Ginsberg hanging out in the background.
From there, Pennebaker captures the unhinged and frantic lifestyle of the elusive musician. At one point there's a woman clinging to Dylan's car as his crew tries to drive him away from a concert.
The frenzy that Dylan evokes in his fans is similar to what The Beatles generated, but what is so shocking is how Dylan demands such pensive attention during his performances.
The Beatles had fans just going bonkers during shows, but Pennebaker captures quite the opposite from Dylan's audience. It sits quietly and dwells over every word floating from Dylan's raspy voice and only applauds, whistles and screams after a tune's completion.
Not only is Dylan playing to sold-out concert halls, but the venues have packed in seats behind the singer/songwriter. The high-risers on stage, for extra seating, stress Dylan's intense popularity during the mid-60s.
One of the highlights of the film is when Dylan performs "The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll." The crowd's fierce concentration accents the fact that it hadn't heard a song with such an overwhelming social consciousness before.
And it isn't just the onstage performances that make the documentary so dazzling — what goes on behind the scenes is also engrossing.
There's a great scene in which Dylan's manager, Albert Grossman, verbally abuses a bunch of hotel workers because they're complaining about the loud noise coming from the rooms checked out to Dylan.
The acoustic jam sessions in the hotel suites featured in the film are very insightful into Dylan's early influences and writing process. He sings a wonderful version of Hank Williams' "Lost Highway," with friends sitting around the room.
At another point, he diligently taps away at his typewriter while Joan Baez delicately sings folk songs in the background.
Call it avant-garde garbage or artsy crap, but if you go into this very creative and personal documentary with an open mind, you'll be rewarded with a spontaneous glimpse into Dylan's rise to superstardom.
