d.a. pennebaker's DON'T LOOK BACK (1967)

what a weird creature Dylan was! volatile, inquisitive, and operating on an altogether different plane; a plane, one imagines, that he might very much like to take an impossible vacation from, which exacerbates the situation. it's tempting to say that Don't Look Back wouldn't be any less interesting without the music, but the scattered performances (split though they are between poetic obscurity and heartbreaking lucidity) are a necessary reminder as to why so many would clamor for the opportunity to put up with such an unstable, inscrutable, condescending, brilliant fucking punk. Pennebaker is bold and merciless in his choices, and it's both a treat and a treasure that a fascinating time in a fascinating life was caught and cut with such taste and observant depth, even if the "rock doc" Pennebaker invented would inevitably descend into self-serving fluff.