In Martin Scorsese\u2019s documentary No Direction Home (2005), Joan Baez says of her onetime paramour Bob Dylan, \u201cThirty some years, whenever I go to a march, sit-in, or lie-in, or jail-in, people always say \u2018Is Bob coming?\u2019 I say, \u2018He never comes, you moron. When are you going to get it?\u2019\u201d She was right, of course, that the so-called \u201cVoice of a Generation\u201d rejected that label almost the second he was given it, and left the \u201860s protest movement without looking back. But in the decades since, every now and then, Dylan has let his political opinions be known, and even occasionally dipped a toe into activism. It just has never come in the form that many of his early fans expected or wanted.<\/p>\n
In the \u201870s, there was his fierce advocacy for the wrongfully imprisoned middleweight champ Rubin Carter. A few years later, there was that odd period of Christian proselytizing, and then, once he had re-embraced Judaism, his love affair with Israel (listen to \u201cNeighborhood Bully\u201d). There was that abrasive performance of \u201cMasters of War\u201d at the Grammys during the First Gulf War, and the election-night concert in 2008 where he played \u201cThe Times They Are A-Changin\u2019.\u201d More recently, he contributed a single to the soundtrack for Reagan (2024). In other words, you can never predict what the Voice of a Generation is going to say.<\/p>\n
Political confusion is the subject of Masked and Anonymous (2003), the last and arguably strangest of Dylan\u2019s occasional forays into feature filmmaking. Conceived in collaboration with director and co-writer Larry Charles, the story takes place in a dystopian near-future where North America has been ravaged by a revolutionary war that may just be a false-flag for shadowy corporate and government interests. The terms of the conflict are never explained. \u201cI don\u2019t know what they\u2019re fighting about,\u201d says Jessica Lange, playing a producer. \u201cI mean, do the Hindus, Arabs, Jews, Irish, Muslims, Buddhists know what they\u2019re fighting about? The last person who actually knew that was killed a long time ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sleazy promoter Uncle Sweetheart (John Goodman) sees an opportunity to cash in and plans a phony benefit concert. To headline, he secures \u201cJack Fate\u201d (Dylan), a half-forgotten icon vaguely associated with a radical past (the concert\u2019s funders are disappointed they couldn\u2019t land Springsteen). This plot almost certainly draws inspiration from one of the unlikelier moments in Dylan\u2019s career: his awkward participation in the 1985 \u201cWe Are the World\u201d single. Allegedly a fundraiser for famine relief in Ethiopia, the initiative is best remembered for the star-power of its music video, in which Dylan looked acutely uncomfortable amidst the theatre-kid hamming of more than 40 other superstars. \u201cYou do this show, this benefit, you\u2019ll be seen all over the world,\u201d Uncle Sweetheart tells Jack. You can almost hear Lionel Richie telling the same thing to Dylan in his fallow \u201880s period.<\/p>\n
For fans, Masked and Anonymous offers the curiosity value of seeing Dylan act. His performance is fascinating, if only for its sheer badness. The same monotone expressionlessness that has fostered Dylan\u2019s mystique in other spheres translates to a stiff, uncharismatic performance when surrounded by real actors. Goodman, Lange, Jeff Bridges (as a pushy journalist), and the rest of the 40-Karat cast work hard to compensate, but they just end up emphasizing the void at the center. Dylan is not much helped by Charles, who doesn\u2019t know what to do with the star\u2019s diminutive physical presence and allows him to contort his little body in some truly bizarre ways.<\/p>\n
But there are also plenty of genuine pleasures for the amateur Dylanologist, including the chance to observe sixtysomething Dylan ruminate on becoming an icon. In the lead-up to a concert that never comes, Fate\/Dylan drifts through a landscape full of decontextualized icons, like Abraham Lincoln, the Pope, and a blackface minstrel (a literal ghost of showbiz past) played by Ed Harris. Adding to the postmodern atmosphere, the soundtrack features a Japanese cover of \u201cMy Back Pages,\u201d an Italian hip-hop remix of \u201cLike a Rolling Stone,\u201d and a sickly-sweet rendition of \u201cThe Times They Are A-Changin\u2019\u201d performed by a little girl as if at an American Idol audition (hilariously, the only part of the movie Roger Ebert liked). For all his discomfort in the dialogue scenes, Dylan\u2019s raspy late-period voice is in fine form during the film\u2019s scorching musical interludes\u2014I\u2019m especially partial to his rendition of \u201cDixie.\u201d<\/p>\n
If there\u2019s anyone who still considers Dylan a Judas for abandoning the folk movement, they might chafe against the film\u2019s streak of \u201cboth sides\u201d political resignation. Still, I can find a lot of common ground with Dylan and Charles circa 2003, including their healthy skepticism toward the Philanthropy Industrial Complex, their distaste for celebrity activism, and their general distrust of official narratives. In one early scene, Dylan takes a bus ride with Giovanni Ribisi, playing a disillusioned veteran of the ongoing war. He says he fought for the rebels until he learned they were funded by the government, then fought for the government until he was ordered to destroy a village. \u201cThey told us something about the rebels having infiltrated. It was a lie.\u201d Is he talking about a future America, or Gaza today?<\/p>\n