There are some movies that are like pulling teeth insofar as getting myself to the point where I can watch them. I don’t know why, but I’m guessing because I’m human, I have prejudices too. Besides I’m not a big fan of doing biopics of people who are still alive. We should reserve those for the tragic ones, right? Not the ones who are still growing fat from their earnings. (Ouch! That stung.) But my biggest prejudice is against pretension, and I have this gnawing feeling that this movie may contain some. I know it won accolades when it was released. And people who are really into music have said nothing but good things about this movie. And the interloping of clips from the civil rights movement is all good and well to illustrate what his political proclivities were like at such a significant point in American history. But I kind of prefer the documentary I recently picked up from a bookstore, titled, The Night James Brown Saved Boston.
What James Brown accomplished the night of MLK’s death —
That for me is bigger than Dylan will ever be.
But that doesn’t mean Dylan is anything short of a genius, a genuine 20th century American voice, whose music holds a lot of value for most of us.
