certainly enjoyed and was gripped by part one of the Scorsese Bob Dylan doc, though hard to see Marty in it anywhere--well assembled but otherwise standard clips 'n' talking heads. And if I see those kids diving under desks representing "the fifties" again...or JFK in the pool... the first chapter of Dylan's Chronicles is closer to the freewheeling spirit of Mean Streets. Great clips of Odetta and John Jacob Niles, who deserves a revival--his keening ballad stole the show. No mention of drugs, though the first part might as well be an ad for the benefits of methamphetemine--from chunky near-Canadian Woody Guthrie wannabee to high cheekboned King of Rock in two short years!

(Update: second half much better, faster, got right into the "Performance/Privilege" vertigo of 65-66, and contained footage of an improv on an English shop sign that gave as much insight into his composing practise as anything I've seen, read or heard of. Not to mention a few flickering seconds of a Jonas Mekas film, which must have freaked out a million ageing boomer dogs...)