In
spring this year, the media began to widely report the appearance of
new and revealing materials about one of the most fascinating stages
in the history of Bob Dylan’s tours: that of the Rolling Thunder
Revue. On 7th June, a collection of 14 CDs would go on sale titled
The RTR: The 1975 Live Recordings, and five days later Netflix would
release what it was advertising as a documentary about the tour,
directed by Martin Scorsese. The poster showed one of the most
emblematic photos of Dylan (his favourite one (in black and white),
he stated at one point), taken of him in three-quarter profile by Ken
Regan, his impenetrable eyes framed between a hat with the brim
covered in flowers and a scarf that suggests the movement of somebody
who, when walking, hears his name (or perhaps another one), and turns
his head seeking the source of the voice. The Netflix poster rotated
the image disconcertingly and coloured the flowers and scarf with
intense watercolour shades. Under the title, seven words accurately
defined the contents of the film: “A BOB DYLAN STORY BY MARTIN
SCORSESE”, all in capitals, the two names revolving around the
central concept. The rotation of Dylan’s profile, the colours
superimposed on the greyscale of the photo and the prominence of the
word “story” could act as warning signs in the face of a certain
type of expectations, it might appear afterwards. However, suggesting
an interpretation of the symbolic meaning of the ingredients of this
poster after seeing it for the first time would have required
something I do not have: remaining invulnerable to the suggestive
beauty of the image, that face suspended in time, looking you in the
eyes as if in order to dissuade you from following or to invite you
to do so.
I
cannot be immune to it, because I accepted that invitation from Dylan
long ago. In November 1975, I joined the Rolling Thunder Revue. Now,
nearly forty-four years later, the time has also come for me to
conjure up that magic once more.
