Tag Archives: film

Video: Bob Dylan Talks About Movies & Directors Who Have Influenced Him, Part Two

A few weeks back I put together a post called “Ten Films That Had a Big Impact On Bob Dylan.”

One of the people who read that post, Will Dockery, commented on that post and included a short quote from a Rolling Stone interview that Jonathan Cott did with Dylan that was published January 26, 1978 (the day after “Renaldo & Clara” was first shown in movie theaters in New York and Los Angeles).

I found the interview and have included some of it below.

While Dylan is specifically talking about what influenced his filmmaking, clearly film has influenced him as an artist in many ways.

I’ve excerpted a section where he talks about other directors and mentions a few films. You can find the interview in a book edited by Jonathan Cott called “Bob Dylan: The Essential Interviews” published by Wenner Books. It’s also online here (but it’s possible you have to be a Rolling Stone subscriber to get access — I’m not sure).

The movie that creates the context for this conversation is, of course, “Renaldo & Clara.”

Bob Dylan: I know this film is too long. It may be four hours too long — I don’t care. To me, it’s not long enough. I’m not concerned how long something is. I want to see a set shot. I feel a set shot. I don’t feel all this motion and boom-boom. We can fast cut when we want, but the power comes in the ability to have faith that it is a meaningful shot.

You know who understood this? Andy Warhol. Warhol did a lot for American cinema. He was before his time. But Warhol and Hitchcock and Peckinpah and Tod Browning . . . they were important to me. I figured Godard had the accessibility to make what he made, he broke new ground. I never saw any film like Breathless, but once you saw it, you said: “Yeah, man, why didn’t I do that, I could have done that.” Okay, he did it, but he couldn’t have done it in America.

Trailer for “Breathless”:

“Breathless” (Dutch subtitles):

Excerpt from Tod Browning’s “Freaks”:

Andy Warhol’s “Beauty Number 2”:

Jonathan Cott: But what about a film like Sam Fuller’s Forty Guns or Joseph Lewis’ Guns Crazy?

Yeah, I just heard Fuller’s name the other day. I think American filmmakers are the best. But I also like Kurosawa, and my favorite director is [Luis] Buñuel; it doesn’t surprise me that he’d say those amazing things you quoted to me before from the New Yorker.

Buñuel’s “El Angel Exterminador”:

[Earlier in the interview Cott read a Buñuel quote to Dylan from a New Yorker interview: “Mystery is an essential element in any work of art. It’s usually lacking in film, which should be the most mysterious of all. Most filmmakers are careful not to perturb us by opening the windows of the screen onto their world of poetry. Cinema is a marvelous weapon when it is handled by a free spirit. Of all the means of expression, it is the one that is most like the human imagination. What’s the good of it if it apes everything conformist and sentimental in us? It’s a curious thing that film can create such moments of compressed ritual. The raising of the everyday to the dramatic.”]

I don’t know what to tell you. In one way I don’t consider myself a filmmaker at all. In another way I do. To me, Renaldo and Clara is my first real film. I don’t know who will like it. I made it for a specific bunch of people and myself, and that’s all. That’s how I wrote “Blowin’ in the Wind” and “The Times They Are A-Changin'” — they were written for a certain crowd of people and for certain artists, too. Who knew they were going to be big song

The film, in a way, is a culmination of a lot of your ideas and obsessions.

That may be true, but I hope it also has meaning for other people who aren’t that familiar with my songs, and that other people can see themselves in it, because I don’t feel so isolated from what’s going on. There are a lot of people who’ll look at the film without knowing who anybody is in it. And they’ll see it more purely.

Eisenstein talked of montage in terms of attraction — shots attracting other shots — then in terms of shock, and finally in terms of fusion and synthesis, and of overtones. You seem to be really aware of the overtones in your film, do you know what I mean?

I sure do.

Eisenstein once wrote: “The Moscow Art is my deadly enemy. It is the exact antithesis of all I am trying to do. They string their emotions together to give a continuous illusion of reality. I take photographs of reality and then cut them up so as to produce emotions.”

Eisenstein’s “Battleship Potemkin”:

What we did [in Renaldo & Clara”] was to cut up reality and make it more real . . . Everyone from the cameramen to the water boy, from the wardrobe people to the sound people was just as important as anyone else in the making of the film. There weren’t any roles that well defined. The money was coming in the front door and going out the back door: The Rolling Thunder tour sponsored the movie. And I had faith and trust in the people who helped me do the film, and they had faith and trust in me.

In the movie, there’s a man behind a luncheonette counter who talks a lot about truth — he’s almost like the Greek chorus of the film.

Yeah, we often sat around and talked about that guy. He is the chorus.

That guy at one point talks about the Movement going astray and about how everyone got bought off. How come you didn’t sell out and just make a commercial film?

I don’t have any cinematic vision to sell out. It’s all for me so I can’t sell out. I’m not working for anybody. What was there to sell out?

Well, movies like “Welcome to L.A.” and “Looking for Mr. Goodbar” are moralistic exploitation films — and many people nowadays think that they’re significant statements. You could have sold out to the vision of the times.

Right. I have my point of view and my vision, and nothing tampers with it because it’s all that I’ve got. I don’t have anything to sell out.

Renaldo and Clara has certain similarities to the recent films of Jacques Rivette. Do you know his work?

I don’t. But I wish they’d do it in this country. I’d feel a lot safer. I mean I wouldn’t get so much resistance and hostility. I can’t believe that people think that four hours is too long for a film. As if people had so much to do. You can see an hour movie that seems like 10 hours. I think the vision is strong enough to cut through all of that. But we may be kicked right out of Hollywood after this film is released and have to go to Bolivia. In India, they show 12-hour movies. Americans are spoiled, they expect art to be like wallpaper with no effort, just to be there.

Jacques Rivette’s “Paris Nous Appartient”:

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Video: Bob Dylan’s ‘Renaldo & Clara’ Released 36 Years Ago

Thirty-six years ago, on January 25, 1978, Bob Dylan’s epic four-plus hour film “Renaldo & Clara” began a limited theatrical run, opening in New York City and Los Angeles.

The film screened in a handful of additional cities and then was pulled. Later that year a short version was released. I saw that version, found it very intriguing but also quite confusing.

Janet Maslin’s January 26, 1978 review of the film in the New York Times begins like this:

THERE’S an insolence about “Renaldo and Clara,” the four-hour film written and directed by Bob Dylan and featuring members of his Rolling Thunder Revue, that is not easily ignored. Mr. Dylan, who has a way of insinuating that any viewer who doesn’t grasp the full richness of his work must be intellectually deficient or guilty of some failure of nerve, has seen fit to produce a film that no one is likely to find altogether comprehensible. Yet for anyone even marginally interested in Mr. Dylan—and for anyone willing to accept the idea that his evasiveness, however exasperating, is a crucial aspect of his finest work — “Renaldo and Clara” holds the attention at least as effectively as it tries the patience.

No knowledge of Mr. Dylan or his history is supposed to be central to an understanding of the film, but it nevertheless trades heavily upon his past. The singer David Blue, playing himself, talks about the artistic climate of Greenwich Village when Mr. Dylan first arrived there, and Joan Baez is rather coyly cast as Mr. Dylan’s former lover. Mr. Dylan, even more coyly, is cast as someone other than himself, a very vague figure named Renaldo.

Read more here.

Director: Bob Dylan

Cast:
Bob Dylan … Renaldo
Sara Dylan … Clara
Joan Baez … Woman in White
Ronnie Hawkins … Bob Dylan
Jack Elliott … Longheno de Castro
Harry Dean Stanton … Lafkezio
Bob Neuwirth … The Masked Tortilla
Allen Ginsberg … The Father
David Mansfield … The Son
Helena Kallianiotes … Herself
Rubin ‘Hurricane’ Carter … Himself
T-Bone Burnett … The Inner Voice

Joan Baez and Dylan in “Renaldo & Clara”:

“One More Cup of Coffee”:

An hour plus of the film:

Check out this cool post about the film at the Johanna’s Visions site.

-– A Days of the Crazy-Wild blog post: sounds, visuals and/or news –-

Watch & Listen: Bob Dylan Copyrights ‘Billy’ 41 Years Ago

Forty-one years ago, on December 18, 1972, Bob Dylan’s main theme for the film “Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid” was copyrighted, according to “The Bob Dylan Copyright Files 1962-2007” by Tim Dunn.

Four versions of the song appeared on the soundtrack for the film, two of which were instrumentals and two with lyrics.

The lyrics that were copyrighted and which appear in the songbook, “The Songs of Bob Dylan: From 1966 Through 1975” are not exactly the same as the lyrics Bob sings for “Billy 4” and “Billy 7.” It seems he improvised each time he sang the song, changing words, and choosing which verses to include.

Bob was also an actor in the film, which was directed by Sam Peckinpah and released in 1973.

You can check out a version of the lyrics to “Billy” here.

“Billy 4”:

Billy 4 by Bob Dylan on Grooveshark

“Billy 7”:

Billy 7 by Bob Dylan on Grooveshark

Dylan performing “Billy 4” live, Stockholm, Sweden, March 22, 2009,

Main Title Theme (Billy) — instrumental:

Here’s a beautiful version of “Billy” Performed by Gillian Welch & D@vid Rawlings:

And here’s Bob acting in the film:

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Listen: Bob Dylan Performing ‘The Ballad of the Gliding Swan’ From First TV Appearance

Fifty years ago in January of 1963, Bob Dylan flew to England and appeared in a TV play, “The Madhouse on Castle Street,” which was produced and broadcast by the BBC on January 13, 1963. Dylan was to play the lead role in the production, but once he was in England he changed his mind. Instead he played a minor character, Bob the Hobo and performed a number of songs including “Hang Me, O Hang Me,” “Cuckoo Bird,” “Blowin’ in the Wind” and the English folk ballad, “The Ballad of the Gliding Swan.”

According to filmthreat.com, the play tells “the tale of a reclusive young man who shuts himself in his boarding house room, with the declaration that he will never come out unless the world changes. In the course of the drama, the young man’s friends and fellow boarding house residents try to discover why he chose to take such a drastic and peculiar course of action. In many ways, the drama was typical of the so-called boarding house plays of British theater during the early 1960s: a motley collection of malcontent souls venting their respective fears and furies in the setting of a cheap, rundown rooms-to-let setting.”

When the production aired, the public heard “Blowin’ in the Wind” for the first time. How the song came to be part of the play was explained by it’s directer, Philip Saville,at whose house Dylan was staying briefly.

“I got up to have a pee and I heard music,” Saville told The Guardian. “I wandered along the landing and there at the bottom, because I had a little baby then, were our two Spanish au pairs. There he was at the top of the stairs, singing, and these two lovely little girls were like two little robins or starlings looking up at him. He didn’t know I was behind him, and I applauded and just said: ‘Oh Bob, would you sing that on the opening and closing of the production?’”

The film of the play was destroyed in 1968. However there is audio of “The Ballad of the Gliding Swan” that is purported to be from the film.

For more on this story, head to filmthreat.com.

Audio of Dylan performing the English folk ballad, “The Ballad of the Gliding Swan”:

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Listen: Beck-Produced Charlotte Gainsbourg Take on ‘Hey Joe’

New Charlotte Gainsbourg track, the Beck-produced cover of “Hey Joe,” is used in the closing credits for Lars von Trier’s controversial new film, “Nymphomaniac.” She stars in the film as a self-diagnosed nymphomaniac named Joe.

The track will be released as a digital single on December 16.

-– A Days of the Crazy-Wild blog post: sounds, visuals and/or news –-

The Parallels of Bob Dylan & The Coen Brothers

In a terrific review of “Inside Llewyn Davis” that ran in today’s New York Times, A. O. Scott concludes by quoting on of Dylan’s most obtuse lines as he compares the Coen Brothers approach to making films to Dylan’s creative strategy.

Scott writes:

One of the insights of “Inside Llewyn Davis” is that hard work and talent do not always triumph in the end. Like most of the Coens’ movies, this one sidesteps the political turmoil of its period, partly because it is a fable, not a work of history. (The public affairs of the time get a shout-out in the form of a goofy novelty song called “Please Mr. Kennedy,” a barely topical sendup of the space race and the New Frontier.) But there is nonetheless a strong, hidden current of social criticism in the brothers’ work, which casts a consistently skeptical eye on the American mythology of success.

Winners do not interest them. There’s no success like failure, and failure’s no success at all. That observation was made by Bob Dylan, like Joel and Ethan Coen, a Jewish kid from Minnesota and, like them, possessed of a knack for conscripting the American popular art of the past for his own idiosyncratic genius. His art, like theirs, upends easy distinctions between sincerity and cynicism, between the authentic and the artificial, and both invites and resists interpretation.

So I won’t speculate further on what “Inside Llewyn Davis” might mean. But at least one of its lessons seems to me, after several viewings, as clear and bright as a G major chord. We are, as a species, ridiculous: vain, ugly, selfish and self-deluding. But somehow, some of our attempts to take stock of this condition — our songs and stories and moving pictures, old and new — manage to be beautiful, even sublime.

For the entire review, which I hope you’ll read, head over to the Times.

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Robert Christgau On ‘Inside Llewyn Davis’

Robert Christgau, who knows what the New York folk scene was like way back when has a great story about the new Cohen Brothers film, “Inside Llewyn Davis” that just went online. The piece is mostly about the authenticity of the film, and what that means.

Christgau writes:

“When you read about the scene you see this mania for authenticity,” says Joel Coen, describing what enticed him and his brother Ethan into making Inside Llewyn Davis, a film about folksingers in Greenwich Village just before Bob Dylan touched down and took off. But Coen isn’t really praising the folksingers’ authenticity — it’s their mania that fascinates him. In the very next sentence he goes on: “You have these guys like Elliott Adnopoz, the son of a neurosurgeon from Queens, calling himself Ramblin’ Jack Elliott. In the film we have a character who sings and plays a guitar, wears a cowboy hat and calls himself Al Cody. His real name is Arthur Milgram.”

For the rest of the story, head over to Rolling Stone.

— A Days of the Crazy-Wild blog post —

Watch: Jack White Performs “We’re Going to Be Friends”

From the upcoming film, Another Day, Another Time, which will document a concert held in September at New York City’s Town Hall celebrating the release of the Cohen Brothers Inside Llewyn Davis.

Jack White, “We’re Going to Be Friends”:

Thanks Consequence of Sound.

— A Days of the Crazy-Wild blog post —

“Inside Llewyn Davis”: Who Wrote That Song?

In “Inside Llewyn Davis” there’s a scene where Llewyn Davis records a novelty song, “Please Mr. Kennedy (Don’t Send Me Into Outer Space).”

Today The Hollywood Reporter published a fascinating piece about that song, asking the question: who really wrote it?

Here’s some of the story:

[T Bone] Burnett’s rep explains that the music maestro and the Coens adapted their song, “Please Mr. Kennedy,” from another novelty song of the same name that came out on the 1962 album Here They Are by The Goldcoast Singers. That tune depicts a comical draft-board scenario where some shaggy rock & rollers beg President John F. Kennedy not to induct them into the army. Since these lyrics were modified for the film, the new songwriting credit shows original writers Ed Rush and Ed Cromarty now accompanied by T Bone Burnett, The Coens, and Timberlake.

That’s interesting, because before that song there was a 45 single release of “Please Mr. Kennedy (I Don’t Want To Go)” by Mickey Woods in December 1961 on the Tamla-Motown label, and you can easily hear the similarity between that war-phobic plea and the Coen creation. Credits for that particular tune actually list Berry Gordy, Loucye Wakefield and Ronald Wakefield as the song’s composers — no trace of Messrs. Rush or Cromarty here.

Read the entire story here.

Please Mr. Kennedy from The Goldcoast Singers on Myspace.

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The Time Machine: Patti Smith Reads Poetry, Stars In Ivan Kral Film “Raven”

I came across this very cool eight minute film, “Raven,” that Ivan Kral made about Patti Smith and her band in 1975. It’s beautiful, and maybe four minutes into it Patti starts reciting her poetry.

“Raven,” from Prelinger Archives, directed by Ivan Kral with voiceover by Patti Smith.

These others have audio of Patti Smith reading her poetry.

Patti Smith Poetry Reading, 1973 NYC

Patti Smith: Poetry Reading at St. Mark’s Church, NYC (1972)

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