Other Side of the Mirror: Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival
Gather 'round all ye people, and I'll tell you a tale of a folkie who went electric

In his fanciful bio-pic I'm Not There, director Todd Haynes has six actors portray six facets of the Bob Dylan persona. At least three of those facets are portrayed by Bob Dylan himself in The Other Side of the Mirror: Bob Dylan at the Newport Folk Festival. Directed by — or perhaps a better description would be "recorded by" — Murray Lerner, the film presents three years of Dylan performances at the festival, culminating with his infamous act of going electric in 1965.

With the benefit of hindsight, this classic bit of rock history might be puzzling: using an electric guitar makes Dylan some kind of traitor? Yes. Yes it does; at least to the die-hard fans at Newport. This film will help you understand why. By the time Dylan takes the stage with his electric band, we can understand the audience’s sense of betrayal, but also can see why the shift was inevitable.

The most impressive aspect of Lerner's film is that he tells the story with virtually no commentary at all; the film is comprised almost entirely of Dylan singing his songs and the audience responding to those songs; the drama is created by that interplay between artist and audience.

The film begins in 1963, Dylan the crown prince of folk, but a regular guy, too, all work shirts and bashful smiles. His repertoire is beautiful, but fairly standard folk fare. Dylan projects a "just happy to be here" attitude.

By 1964, Dylan's ascendancy to the throne is unquestioned. He has a charismatic stage presence, and his songwriting has taken a turn toward the more complex stream of consciousness lyrics that would become his trademark. The crowds adore him. He is the folk savior, the rising artist with his finger on the pulse of America, the chosen one destined to lead them to some folk promised land. The interplay is unspoken and subtle, but the message is clear: Bob Dylan ain't going nowhere, if the folk scene has their way.

In 1965, Dylan appears in rock star mode, dressed in black; he still seems to enjoy singing for the crowd, but there is a difference to him now. One song he sings (it opens the movie) almost borders on self-parody. Between workshops, he does a sound check with his electric band, and you can practically feel that something's up; the times, they are a-changin' for sure, and Lerner's camera captures it all.

That evening, Dylan takes the stage to lukewarm applause and sings Maggie's Farm; he just ain't going to work there no more —

Well I try my best / To be just like I am, but everybody wants you to be just like them/ They sing while you slave and I just get bored. / I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more.

It's not exactly the message the crowd wants to hear, and they definitely are not up for Dylan's first public performance of Like a Rolling Stone. After being booed (but also getting some cheers; to be fair, some people were cheering) Dylan returns to the stage with his trusty acoustic guitar. Instead of berating his audience, he says, "Anyone have an E harmonica?" The audience rains the stage with harmonicas; he picks one up and proceeds to sing Tambourine Man, probably for about the one-millionth time. If I'd been booed like that, I don't think I would have been able to return to the stage.

Dylan's singing style has been lampooned many times. I used to think of myself as being "not much of a Dylan fan." But then, when I thought of a list of favorite songs, I realized that several of them were penned by Bob Dylan. Since then, I've been trying to give the original songs a more careful listen. The music throughout the film is excellent. The live performances, in my opinion, equal or exceed some of the versions he laid down in the studio at the time. For that reason alone, if you are a Dylan fan at all, The Other Side of the Mirror is a must see. For others, this film is a great introduction to an artist in transit, and a great reminder of the ways that celebrityhood can be a lucky break, but it can also, sometimes, be the worst kind of luck.