Falling out of favour fast with critics of the time, Renaldo and Clara is likely the start of the spiral. Following an incredible double bill of studio successes in Blood on the Tracks and Desire, it may be surprising to look back on this period as a wash for Bob Dylan. Those all-time greats were not received as well as they should have been at the time, and his pivot to a contemporary rock and roll sound, adapting those folk tunes and electric controversies to a fresh sound on the Rolling Thunder Revue, split crowds even further. Pair that with a born-again period as well as a three-and-a-half-hour segmented film, Renaldo and Clara, and audiences will bare their claws. That should not be a surprise. The Joan Baez-featuring film tries to blur genres, style, and meaning in what is a fascinating if muddled experience.
Most of what Dylan does makes sense only to him. We can merely follow along and hope for a brief shot of clarity. Putting their trust in Renaldo and Clara, though, feels like a misfire. A plastic mask-wearing Dylan opens the film with a performance of When I Paint My Masterpiece. Conventional wisdom would tell us this is Dylan offering what he believes to be, at the time, his masterpiece. But this is Dylan. A man who spent eight years teasing new material and revealing it to be covers of American Songbook classics. The man whose touring in the 1980s was mainly a collection of gospel tracks, followed by some rocked-out and aimless adaptations of his hits. Renaldo and Clara follows the same, seemingly unhinged but ahead of its time thought process, which has brought the very best out of Dylan. An undeniable mess of a movie, but that is at least an honest adaptation of Dylan at the time. Clips and moments pieced together with no natural rhythm that anyone in the audience can pick up on.
But it is accepted because it is Dylan. If we apply the same feelings to other avant-garde offerings, then we are sure to have a better experience. An open heart and a clear mind go a long way in making Renaldo and Clara a fascinating, if not enjoyable, piece of work. Interspersed between moments of natural life are massive performances of Dylan’s biggest and best songs of the time. When attendees look at gigging, they see it as a thrill, but everyone from Ozzy Osbourne to Sam Fender has suggested life on the road is a toll on your mental and physical health. What Renaldo and Clara offers is a thread between these shows. Dylan has been on tour almost every year of his life, and the toll taken on him is not expressly clear here, but we are offered a few moments of interest, which could hint at the impact.
From the ambush of interviews to the slower moments in late-night eateries, there is a sense of being numb to the motions of travel, to the show itself. That is the danger displayed in Renaldo and Clara, which, for all its breathlessness and enlightening on-stage moments, shines a light on the harsher side of touring. That is what matters most for all these characters. This is not a documentary, yet it feels like one. It is not a film with a tangible narrative, nor a trustworthy collection of narrators, and yet it can be used as a document to understand life on the road. Dylan blurs the line, and it is still unclear if this is an accident or a delightfully considered aspect of the film. Dylan declares once more he cannot and would not like to be defined by expectations, extending what could have been a tight concert film into a remarkably confusing, but exceptionally thrilling event.
Martin Scorsese’s film Rolling Thunder uses most of the footage from Renaldo and Clara. I’ve seen both, I saw Renaldo and Clara when it opened at the Elgin Cinema in NYC, even got a souvenir book they gave out. Then the Village Voice wrote a scathing review of the film which was more of a personal attack on Bob. They compared him to a Roman Emperor in I, Claudius. The movie disappeared almost immediately, unseen for many years. Martin tightened it up a little but they are pretty similar films.
I do agree with your assessment that it is a fascinating document of its time and worth the effort to watch. He may have had a little coke help, but his singing is impassioned, forceful and CLEAR with some really terrific versions of most of the songs.
I saw the debut of this in LA and was bummed. Went across the street to a bar at intermission and had some Crown Royal and the flick still dragged. People were speechless filing out afterwards and my pal said “better luck next time Bob” and there were titters…no one appeared to have enjoyed the show…maybe i should watch it again
Saw it when it came out, aged 14, alone. Laughed out loud in places, found it so ridiculous. Never much liked Dylan live post 64 (footage of). Loved the albums .. but only up to ‘Street Legal’ (most of them). Remember hearing the intro to ‘Just Like Tom Thumb’s Blues’ in a record shop in Singapore aged 11 – Kuala Lumpur didn’t have the earlier stuff .. and being highly impressed. Had never heard before as such.
Desire is a hugely overrated album.