Bob Dylan
Eat The Document

Watching these days on YouTube the documentary film "Eat the Document" (just 52 minutes long), a natural question arose: but in 1966, was Bob Dylan aware of certain artistic and technical limitations? What is someone like him doing in the role of director for such a film? Can a rock star, as he was even then, feel so confident as to surpass the natural sense of limitation, like a modern Captain Ahab in search of a white whale like Moby Dick well described in Melville's literary masterpiece?

Tough questions, you might say, but given certain premises, one cannot help but ask some questions. So consider that, in the spring of 1966, Dylan (a renowned minstrel of the young generations of the '60s) was engaged in a series of concerts in Ireland and England. The audience was vast, and not everyone appreciated Bob's electric rock turn. The director Pennebaker, accompanying the American soloist with the group The Hawks (who would later become The Band), filmed the events of those weeks, as commissioned by the ABC network. However, the editing of the film was then done by Dylan himself (recovering from a motorcycle accident in July 1966) and here the troubles began. The reason is tied to Pennebaker's resentment for being ousted from executing his work by a great musician (this is undeniable) like Bob, who was not competent at all in the field of cinema. Pennebaker would even say more or less that "inventing oneself as filmmakers is not like learning to park the car in the garage because one needs to be well-versed in the rules, Dylan does not have the appropriate technical expertise in the field". And the network directors at ABC also felt the same way when, after viewing what was filmed, they decided not to broadcast it due to its obviously low artistic and technical value (due to a final edit that was to say the least confused). Several years would pass, and only in 1972 would "Eat the Document" be publicly screened in the United States.

Today, rewatching the documentary on YouTube, one is certainly struck by the technical amateurism of the film. Although everything is inspired by the style of cinéma vérité, the impression of a botched job remains, thrown together without much conviction. It may hold historical value to see Dylan traveling by train between Ireland and England, observing some sheep grazing from the window, or attending a parade of a Scottish military band playing some military march. But when it comes to the moments of Dylan's concerts performing with the Band songs from his repertoire (such as "Ballad of a Thin Man", "Tell Me Momma", "I Don't Believe You", "One Too Many Mornings"), the footage is incomplete, and in one passage, the audio is non-existent (oh dear!).

Here and there, there are more interesting shots, albeit brief, where a spectator in Manchester shouts "Judas!" at the American folksinger, who at another moment is dueting at the piano with Johnny Cash performing "I Still Miss Someone", or begins composing something together with Robbie Robertson in a hotel room. There is also a chat between Bob and John Lennon in a limousine, around London, where it is clear that the two are somewhat under the influence of drugs. But these are just brief glimpses of unrepeatable moments of that historical juncture, which, if properly elaborated by a real director like Pennebaker, would have been better unfolded within a film worthy of the name.

What remains, then, of a work like "Eat the Document"? Only a sort of sonic and filmic graffiti that confusedly testifies historical moments in the career of Robert Zimmerman, known as Bob Dylan. A musician essential in the development not only of rock but also of modern music of the late twentieth century. However, honestly not entirely aware of his limitations, because one cannot just improvise as film directors.

At least, after such a negative experience, dear Bob will still learn from the lesson, and a few years later, with the feature film "Renaldo and Clara" released in 1978, he will not come across as so haphazard.