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I'm Not There, the new episodic Bob Dylan biopic from director Todd Haynes (Far From Heaven), aspires to be something like "Desolation Row," one of Dylan's greatest compositions. Full of allusion and characters, the song etches out the likes of Einstein, Cinderella and other popular figures with great nuance and humanity.

To the untrained eye (or ear), Dylan employs his repertoire of subjects with a carefree randomness. But every detail and transition of his stories move the narrative.

When creating this fictional Dylan narrative, Haynes chose the path of most resistance. And though he fails miserably in I'm Not There, the director and co-screenwriter deserves at least some measure of appreciation for even daring to undertake such an incredibly ambitious film.

Seven years ago, the director approached Dylan's manager, Jeff Rosen, looking for music rights to the artist's songs. Haynes submitted a synopsis of the six pieces that would eventually become I'm Not There - and miraculously, Dylan gave the thumbs up.

The film plays loose with the facts, something all biopics do. But I'm Not There airs its blend of myth and truth "in broad daylight," Haynes said in a conference call with The Diamondback.

"None of the film follows the exact biographical events of Dylan's life in an objective, literal way," Haynes said. "It takes the sort of emotional through-line and makes that the narrative component of each of the stories."

The director should receive praise for coming at Dylan in a suitable way - Haynes' unconventional approach thankfully saves Dylan from any pseudo-psychoanalytical garbage. Ultimately though, the film's sin is its lifelessness.

Bad transitions and impersonations amount to little more than a shameless Dylan costume party - not a compelling story. Instead of one cliché biopic archetype, we get six Dylans of varying ages, names and quality. Though Cate Blanchett (Notes On A Scandal) and Heath Ledger (Candy) turn in able approximations as the Don't Look Back and mid-'70s era Dylan sketches, respectively, the rest of the cast feels lost in Haynes's feigned dream logic.

Where Haynes inserts mockumentary footage, the film hits rock bottom. Christian Bale's (Rescue Dawn) Jack Rollins figure (folkie Greenwich Village Dylan) has his story told through on-screen interviews with other semi-fictional impersonators (Julianne Moore appears briefly as the Joan Baez character). To further gum things up, Ledger's Dylan, Robbie, is in fact not a singer but an actor who portrays Rollins in a superficial Hollywood biopic (ha!), Grain of Sand.

It is the closest Haynes comes to treating Dylan as a human being. Marcus Carl Franklin's (The Water Is Wide) rambling traveler, Woody; Ben Whishaw's (Perfume: The Story Of A Murderer) narrator, Arthur the poet; and Richard Gere's (The Hunting Party) outlaw in hiding, Billy The Kid, all come from the lowest dregs of Dylan-inspired superficiality.

Despite the visual gusto employed throughout, I'm Not There only goes skin deep. The film could be likened to Dylan's ironically titled album, Self Portrait. At the time of its release, the musician's fans took the album as a deliberate "f--- you" from the artist to his audience.

Many consider it Dylan's worst album, a bad joke for irony's sake. And maybe, just maybe, Haynes set out to create something at which audiences can scream "Judas."

But in cinema, intentions matter far less than results. There might be a right way to bring a Dylan feature film to the silver screen, but we have not seen it yet and probably never will. For Haynes's attempt, two parting words come to mind: Oh, mercy.

zherrm@umd.edu

RATING: 2 STARS OUT OF 5

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