By James Banakis

February 7,2025

Maybe like me you’ve noticed that John Kass has so adroitly weaved Bob Dylan references into some of his recent columns. When I recognize them, I smile to myself because they always seamlessly provide the picture-perfect image in the reader’s mind. Dylan’s images shock the listener because they’re so rich, multilayered, and unexpected but true. It’s why he won the Noble Prize for literature. Dylan… not Kass.

I recently saw the excellent biopic “A Complete Unknown.”

The film traces a 19-year-old Bob Dylan arriving in New York in 1961 where he turns the American music and literary culture on its head. In my favorite quote from the film, the Dylan character laments,

Everyone asks where these songs come from, Sylvie. But then you watch their faces, and they’re not asking where the songs come from. They’re asking why the songs didn’t come to them.

I’ve been a Dylan fan since a high school girlfriend played her new album, “Bringing It All Back Home” for me. The first song and lyrics that I really listened to was “Like a Rolling Stone.”

Bruce Springfield once said that the first time he heard that song he was thrilled and frightened at the same time. I think a lot of us felt the same way. That’s because the words and images cascade down on the listener so quickly and unexpectedly.

We feel like cavemen witnessing fire for the first time. The question is, “where did this come from?” In an interview on 60 Minutes,

Dylan claims with all sincerity, he doesn’t know where those songs came from.  They just came into his mind. To me, this is just one of those wonderful mysteries of life that cannot be explained and really doesn’t need to be. It is for us to marvel at them and enjoy them and be thankful to be in the same lifetime with such an artist.

It must have been how people during the renaissance felt viewing 23-year-old Michelangelo’s Pieta. Some of life’s mysteries are complex and some are simple. All wait to be discovered.

Right about now, I’m sure many of you are thinking, “Come on Jimmy, slow down. Dylan is just a guy with a gravelly voice always singing about unrequited love. My response would be seemingly that’s true, but that you haven’t allowed yourself to visualize the images. Images that are gifts and depending on our perspective, give unique experiences for each of us.

Many years ago, at our annual book fair at Holy Apostles, our featured speaker Bishop Timothy Ware from Great Britian asked me if it were possible for me to take him to the Art Institute. Bishop Ware erudite, deeply spiritual, yet completely relatable was one of the most unforgettable persons I have ever encountered.

Of his many gifts, his most precious was that he witnessed everything in life with the wonder of a caveman. Now I have been to the Art Institute many times before so I thought I could do a somewhat credible job of guiding him throughout the galleries. I was wrong.

I floated through with him witnessing every piece of art through his eyes and inspiration. I saw everything anew for the first time. Keep in mind, the good Bishop wasn’t trying to teach me anything or even converse with me. He was too immersed in the art.

I was just in his presence as he spoke to the paintings aloud. He’d stand in front of a painting for several moments and then as if addressing the artist say, “Ah Picasso, where is that light coming from? Oh, I see it’s within her.” Before anyone thinks the old guy was high on hashish. Defiantly not.

He just had a unique transcendent way of viewing the world around him. After we had dinner at the Pump Room, and he was the same way with food. Attacking it gracefully with wonder and contentment.

The lesson I learned from that milestone day was best simply summed up by Nikos Kazantzakis,

I said to the almond tree, “Friend speak to me of God; and the almond tree blossomed.

There is a magical scene in “A Complete Unknown” where a very young Al Kooper aching to get involved in the recording of “Like a Rolling Stone,” impulsively jumps on the keyboards and improvises the now famous intro organ refrain.   Sometimes art is a collaborative effort. Maybe it’s even contagious.

Throughout the film Dylan enters relationships with musical icons, the most significant being a then already famous Joan Baez. At one point Baez asks Dylan what he thinks of her songs, and he says they remind him of an oil painting in a dentist’s office. The audience understands the truth yet feels Baez’s humiliation. Dylan was just in a different stratosphere than any other songwriter. His lens is special. His filter nonexistent.

I had a friend who booked concerts at the Aksarben Auditorium at the University of Nebraska. Occasionally I’d show up to see what was going on, and at such a time I watched Joan Baez doing sound checks in a deserted venue.

This was in the late 60’s and I remember being underwhelmed thinking of her small and ordinary, a much older woman, and in my immature mind, being sort of washed up, not relevant. Of course I was wrong. Since seeing the film I’ve gone back and listened to most of Baez’ recordings. They’re magnificent. The young woman who plays Baez, Monica Barbaro, was hypnotizing. I’ve always had a personal test of an actress’s performance in film. If during the movie I find myself falling in love with the lead actress, it’s either great writing or a believable acting performance.

For me, the first time it was Donna Reed in “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Happily, it happens to me a lot, and I gladly surrender to it.

Most films and documentaries about Bob Dylan I’ve found to be disappointing, and I was ready to be dissatisfied by this one, but it was not the case. “A Complete Unknown” culminates in the groundbreaking performance at the 1965 Newport Folk Festival.

It was a concert that changed the world forever. As in most significant performances the performer is far ahead of his time, confusing and disturbing most of the audience at Newport.

The real charm of this film is that from our 60-year perspective of witnessing Dylan and him providing the soundtrack of many of our lives we see ourselves then and now. Good filmmaking can transport us like a time machine.

I began writing this afternoon after reading John’s excellent column on “The Masters of War.” And listening to some of Dylan’s music.

I was stuck by how his songs have always reflected stages of my own life and experiences. I’m sure many of you feel the same way. The last album I heard today was one of the early ones written at the same time period of this important film, Another Side of Bob Dylan”. The album contains my personal favorite song, “My Back Pages” and my favorite line. It was the closing song of Dylan legendary 30^th anniversary concert on October 16.1992, in Madison Square Garden.

While that was an epic rendition, I’ve always preferred the original. It always forces me to feel good about looking back.

-30-

Jimmy Banakis is a life-long restaurateur.  He was an honorary batboy for the White Sox in 1964. He attended Oak Park River Forest High School, Nebraska Wesleyan University, and Chicago-Kent Law School.  He claims the kitchen is the room he’s most comfortable in anywhere in the world. He published an extremely limited-edition family cookbook. He’s a father and grandfather, and lives in Downers Grove Il.