The Sh*t L*st

I saw "Masked and Anonymous," the new Bob Dylan movie, Friday night. (With John Goodman as Uncle Sweetheart and Luke Wilson as Teddy Macker.) This might have been a great movie in the hands, say, of the Cohen brothers. It has that same sort of high-minded irony and phony colloquial style of their films. It has none of the crispness, however, and as it was, I haven't cringed this much watching a film since "Fast Food Fast Women," another unwatchable film with what I can only imagine were the best of intentions. I suspect the stars in the cast must have thought they were coming to the Sony backlot for a private Dylan concert. Little did they know, cinema was being made. Dylan's entertainment of the crew between scenes is far-and-away the best part. The New Yorker review is generous to the point of simpering:

Bob Dylan�s first foray into film in fifteen years should be considered his first film in almost thirty: the mid-eighties abomination �Hearts of Fire� isn�t good for much more than a punch line. �Masked and Anonymous,� directed by the �Seinfeld� vet Larry Charles and probably written largely by Dylan himself (the credited scriptwriters seem to be pseudonyms) takes place in a near-future America torn apart by revolution; Jack Fate (Dylan) is a washed-up rock star who gets roped into a benefit concert by the unscrupulous promoter Uncle Sweetheart (John Goodman). Dylan�s most ambitious songs have always been alarmingly overpopulated�think �Desolation Row��and that spirit suffuses the film, which doesn�t skimp on the supporting cast: there�s a harried television producer (Jessica Lange), a cynical journalist (Jeff Bridges), a shifty roadie (Luke Wilson), a disreputable politician (Mickey Rourke), an unhinged animal lover (Val Kilmer), and even a mysterious Lady in Red (Angela Bassett). Dylan, with a huge cowboy hat atop his stringbean body, moves through the film stolidly, though he is required to cry at one point. Whenever there�s a slack moment in the political allegory, which is a kind of crazy quilt of Shakespeare, Gabriel Garc�a M�rquez, and �Putney Swope,� the soundtrack�split between fierce performances by Dylan�s crack touring band and world-music covers of Dylan standards�redeems it. And though the plot, such as it is, unravels toward the end, the movie holds its own as part of the Dylan canon: it�s knowing without always being knowledgeable, darkly humorous, full of wisdom both faux and real, and genuinely mysterious.�Ben Greenman (Angelika Film Center and Empire 25.)

The San Diego Reader review sounds more like the movie I saw:

Star-studded cast in a dim, disjointed, desultory satire about an over-the-hill folkie named Jack Fate, tabbed to headline a benefit concert in an ill-defined police state. Bob Dylan, besides playing the lead, co-wrote (with director Larry Charles) the self-referential script, but his assorted cryptic and gnomic comments provide little illumination. The highlight, if not the only light, is his toe-tapping rendition of "Dixie." John Goodman, Jeff Bridges, Jessica Lange, Pen�lope Cruz, Luke Wilson, Val Kilmer, Giovanni Ribisi, Angela Bassett, Ed Harris, Bruce Dern, Mickey Rourke, Fred Ward, Chris Penn, Christian Slater -- the list goes on. 2003.