Here I go breaking one of my rules for this blog again, going backwards in my timeline. It's just for a wee bit, several months on this occasion, not nearly as egregiously as I did with that massive 10,000 word assemblage of observations about Charlie Chaplin a couple weeks ago, in which I leaped several decades in reverse from my current point in the Criterion Chronology (December 1967), to a point in time that preceded even the earliest post in this long-running series by a good six or seven years. That exception was driven by my desire to contribute something special to the Criterion Blogathon. This divergence from the norm is motivated by my desire to cover one of the newest releases in the collection, D.A. Pennebaker's Dont Look Back, which premiered in San Francisco in May 1967, just on the cusp of the legendary Summer of Love, and went into slightly wider circulation in New York City and elsewhere later that year. More of an exercise in cinéma vérité than traditional documentary, the film is the result of a fortuitous hunch by Bob Dylan's manager that granted Pennebaker and his crew free-ranging access to the singer/songwriter and his entourage as they swept through an 11 day tour of England in the spring of 1965.
Contrary to what contemporary viewers might assume about a project that looks on its surface to be a self-consciously promotional "tour documentary" of the sort that's been preserved by hundreds of bands and performers over the subsequent decades, there were no particularly commercial aspirations that gave the green light to this project. At the time, Pennebaker was all but unknown, a guy who dabbled in making slightly experimental short films, shot on 16mm stock, and was beginning to find his preferred subject matter in the form of musical acts. A few samples of his early work are included as supplements on this disc, and Pennebaker goes on to describe in greater detail how it all fell into place in a commentary track recorded in 1999. As he tells it, he was working in TV at the time when Dylan's manager Albert Grossman approached him to see if he'd be interested in coming along with them to England for the purpose of capturing events on film. Dylan was already famous as a leading voice in the folk music scene, but his sound and image were rapidly evolving in new directions, with more long-lasting ramifications for the future of popular culture than probably anyone then realized. Even though Dylan would go on to have a remarkably long, varied and fascinating career that still isn't done yet, here he was approaching the very zenith of his artistic proficiency and iconic status. This was his final solo acoustic tour, before he'd get himself a back-up band and plug in the electric guitars and jump off the folkie ship in order to join forces with the rock & roll movement of the mid-60s that he would soon enough withdraw from on his own terms anyway. That's really the aspect of Dont Look Back that makes the film so essential and unforgettable. We're given the opportunity to see some riveting concert performances, just his head against a black background most of the time, strumming guitar and blowing into a harmonica, stark severe and dominating the music halls all by himself. It's also a treat to observe so much of the commotion and culture clash surrounding an American pop star's whirlwind tour of England - but beyond all that, it does feel like we get a glimpse into the fertile, turbulent environment of Dylan's creative process, at a time when he was composing some of his most evocative and memorable songs - a level of unfettered access that we're rarely privileged to witness so directly, and certainly a degree of openness that the famously enigmatic singer would never be reckless enough to allow ever again.
Pennebaker's technique was straightforward, simple, spontaneous - load the camera with film, position himself as unobtrusively as possible so that as much of whatever action was taking place in the moment could be successfully captured. So we sit with Dylan and company in hotel rooms for late night jam sessions with Joan Baez, Donovan, the ex-keyboard player for the Animals, and others. We ride along with them in taxis and limousines, and take our seat in impromptu press conferences and interview sessions. We peek in on conversations between Dylan's representatives and various officials from theatrical venues, media organizations, local civic leaders and agitated property managers. We mingle with mobs of giddy teens hoping for a glimpse of their idol. Pennebaker invites us to referee verbal sparring matches between Dylan and a succession of interrogators who try to pin him down or show him up in the hopes that the poet of his generation will reveal his secrets and admit that his whole act is just an elaborate con job aimed at feigning profundity, lowering cultural standards and/or making a quick and easy buck. Music and lyrics permeate the environment, talented young people expressing themselves with fluency and freedom, steadily aware that they are doing something creative, unique and important but really they're just expressing themselves and having a fun time of it along the way.
That way weaves its route from their first arrival at Heathrow Airport through a few performances in cities scattered across the English industrial heartland before completing the circuit with a climactic concert at London's Royal Albert Hall. All the banter and chatter and wisecracking we've witnessed for the preceding hour is set aside for the night as Dylan sits under a bright spotlight, seriously alone on his stool at center stage in the vast arena. The brevity of the film and the limitations of the recording technology at hand allowed just a selection of snippets to make it into the final film, but they're powerful and affecting in their simplicity - songs that were bold and innovative at the time, unlike anything listeners were hearing from any other source back then, now so familiar and canonical that they seamlessly blend into the background of our lives, but ready to capture our attention and jolt us once again whenever we get around to giving them a fresh listen, fragments of a unique moment in time by one of the greatest lyricists and essential, galvanizing artists of our lifetime.
When Dont Look Back hit the theatrical circuit, against all odds since it was initially deemed unpalatable by the studios that Pennebaker initially offered it to, Dylan had already gone into an extended retreat from the public eye that had fixed so strongly upon him in his initial burst onto the scene. Injuries he sustained in a 1966 motorcycle accident gave him the pretext to cease his touring activities for the foreseeable future, and much like the Beatles had discovered around that same time, it was becoming possible for recording musicians of a certain status to maintain their careers without having to take their show on the road. This film effectively served as Dylan's visual surrogate for many years, and still stands up as a vital expression of the zeitgeist at a crucial moment, preserving his essence at a pivotal stage of a career that would continue to unfold with surprising new discoveries, reversals and revelations in the decades ahead.
This newest edition of Dont Look Back is loaded with bonus supplements, and it had to be in order to warrant a new purchase from Dylan aficionados who owned earlier home video releases of the film. A deluxe box set from 2006 still sits on my shelf, containing two DVDs with supplemental features (including Pennebaker's hour-long composition of outtakes titled 65 Revisited that he created for the release) that are fully replicated in Criterion's version, but also including a wonderful reproduction of a paperback book from 1968 that provided the most convenient format for studying the documentary without have access to a copy of the film and a projector to run it through. (Also, a cool little flip book of images from the famous short film promo for "Subterranean Homesick Blues.") I won't be getting rid of these relics, but the new Blu-ray is definitely worth the upgrade. An additional 25 minutes worth of outtakes (surely, the final scraping together of anything useful from the archives) and an interview with Patti Smith stand out as the new content highlights, along with a gorgeous film restoration that cleans up practically all of the damage that was still evident on the old DVD. For personal and sentimental reasons, this is definitely among my most treasured Criterion releases of the year.
Next: The Firemen's Ball