Any biopic or biography attempting to capture the entirety of the creation called 'Bob Dylan' is bound to land on its arse. This movie makes no such attempt.
Instead, it's a portrait of how a genius took root, grew, then got his feet out of the growbag - fighting the entire world's wish for him to remain catalogued, potted, and put in the shop window of the folk protest scene.
It could be said that Dylan was the first postmodern popular artist, and his battle has been with the prescriptions of modernism - but that would be too wordy for an amateur review.
However, there is no doubting that this skinny kid had a pair of cojones to match his talent, which this movie does well to display.
(More mundanely, all the extras are bona fide, and the quality of the sound and image has been burnished as nicely as a Telecaster scratch plate).
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