I'm agnostic in the Dylan-is-God debate, but IIRC the man himself became a "born-again" Christian for awhile before returning to his Jewish roots. Does the movie touch on this aspect of his life at all?

Dylan's estoric verse speaks to an earlier time. He was already ancient when he was born. The new art is out front, supraconscious, and topical without feeling ashamed. Some of the work he did in his middle years fits that standard a little better. His score on Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid was nice too. That sort of hookup makes sense for him. Probing backward into the idea of Dylan is a redundant concept.

Real artists work for money.

Got a problem with that?

...A panty-pandering prostitute! I always thought the guy was a phony--a bargain-basement Woody Guthrie imitator. I think it's obvious, since he made that stupid ad for Victoria's Secret, and authorized the Bank of Montreal to use "Times are a-Changin'", that this sour clown will SELL ANYTHING as long as he gets paid enough...ya know, the guy who groused about propaganda and commercialization. Thank heavens for musicians like Tom Waits, who not only refuses his songs to be used for commercials, but is a genuinely decent human being...Is anyone sick of people wondering what was at the heart of Dylan's (and incidentally, Ronald Reagan's!) "beautiful soul"? Answer: NOTHING!! Just because someone sings, writes or orates in supposedly deep platitudes doesn't mean there's anything substantial at all at the heart of it. Sometimes it's just blather.

Certainly many will disagree with me--but be warned; anyone who tells me about the revelational meaningfulness of Mr. Zimmerman will get one response--

"PANTIES! PANTIES PANTIES!"

Darkness at the break of noon

Shadows even the silver spoon

The handmade blade, the child's balloon

Eclipses both the sun and moon

To understand you know too soon

There is no sense in trying.

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn

Suicide remarks are torn

From the fool's gold mouthpiece

The hollow horn plays wasted words

Proves to warn

That he not busy being born

Is busy dying.

Temptation's page flies out the door

You follow, find yourself at war

Watch waterfalls of pity roar

You feel to moan but unlike before

You discover

That you'd just be

One more person crying.

So don't fear if you hear

A foreign sound to your ear

It's alright, Ma, I'm only sighing.

As some warn victory, some downfall

Private reasons great or small

Can be seen in the eyes of those that call

To make all that should be killed to crawl

While others say don't hate nothing at all

Except hatred.

Disillusioned words like bullets bark

As human gods aim for their mark

Made everything from toy guns that spark

To flesh-colored Christs that glow in the dark

It's easy to see without looking too far

That not much

Is really sacred.

While preachers preach of evil fates

Teachers teach that knowledge waits

Can lead to hundred-dollar plates

Goodness hides behind its gates

But even the president of the United States

Sometimes must have

To stand naked.

An' though the rules of the road have been lodged

It's only people's games that you got to dodge

And it's alright, Ma, I can make it.

Advertising signs that con you

Into thinking you're the one

That can do what's never been done

That can win what's never been won

Meantime life outside goes on

All around you.

You lose yourself, you reappear

You suddenly find you got nothing to fear

Alone you stand with nobody near

When a trembling distant voice, unclear

Startles your sleeping ears to hear

That somebody thinks

They really found you.

A question in your nerves is lit

Yet you know there is no answer fit to satisfy

Insure you not to quit

To keep it in your mind and not fergit

That it is not he or she or them or it

That you belong to.

Although the masters make the rules

For the wise men and the fools

I got nothing, Ma, to live up to.

For them that must obey authority

That they do not respect in any degree

Who despise their jobs, their destinies

Speak jealously of them that are free

Cultivate their flowers to be

Nothing more than something

They invest in.

While some on principles baptized

To strict party platform ties

Social clubs in drag disguise

Outsiders they can freely criticize

Tell nothing except who to idolize

And then say God bless him.

While one who sings with his tongue on fire

Gargles in the rat race choir

Bent out of shape from society's pliers

Cares not to come up any higher

But rather get you down in the hole

That he's in.

But I mean no harm nor put fault

On anyone that lives in a vault

But it's alright, Ma, if I can't please him.

Old lady judges watch people in pairs

Limited in sex, they dare

To push fake morals, insult and stare

While money doesn't talk, it swears

Obscenity, who really cares

Propaganda, all is phony.

While them that defend what they cannot see

With a killer's pride, security

It blows the minds most bitterly

For them that think death's honesty

Won't fall upon them naturally

Life sometimes

Must get lonely.

My eyes collide head-on with stuffed graveyards

False gods, I scuff

At pettiness which plays so rough

Walk upside-down inside handcuffs

Kick my legs to crash it off

Say okay, I have had enough

What else can you show me?

And if my thought-dreams could be seen

They'd probably put my head in a guillotine

But it's alright, Ma, it's life, and life only.

It hasn't dated even slightly.

But I've never understood the whole "mysterious, mythologizing" thing. I don't get it. I love his music, but there's no mystery there for me.

I do, however, ADORE Todd Haynes and will go see anything he does. Velvet Goldmine is probably my favorite movie EVER--I just find it enthralling from beginning to end.

Every decade they have something else to yip about, don't they? "He can't sing." "He's irrevelant." "He did all of his best stuff in the 60s." "He's soooo boomer." "He's propped up by the critics." ("I don't get it, bwahhhh!")

100 years from now they will still have their spiky little teeth locked onto his pant leg. It is their fate. And not a bad fate as fates go, because Dylan will be timeless.

"The Cuckoo is a pretty bird, she warbles as she flies

I'm preachin' the Word of God

I'm puttin' out your eyes

I asked Fat Nancy for something to eat, she said, 'Take it off the shelf -

As great as you are a man,

You'll never be greater than yourself.'

I told her I didn't really care

High water everywhere"