There's no doubt this film was an influential piece of cinema verite for subsequent rockumentaries. With little ado, it follows Bob Dylan and his small entourage (including Joan Baez) around England on an acoustic concert tour in the spring of 1965, in delicious black-and-white (mostly with hand-held cameras.) Much of the time we are in cars and hotel rooms, with occasional footage of Bob onstage performing alone with his guitar and harmonica. On a certain level we get a gritty version of the carefree fun of the Beatles' "A Hard Day's Night" - Bob and friends mostly hang around, seemingly without a care in the world, not appreciating how fleeting is this era of anyone's youth. At the same time, Dylan spends much of his time in pointless debates with journalists and others who are hanging around, keeping up a self-centered patter that I trust would embarrass an older man looking back on his cocky youth. It's argument for the sake of argument. His insouciant bravado has always been maddening; Bob shows little of his true self to the public in interviews and encounters, but then...he goes onstage, and those songs speak directly to our hearts, now as then. It's a weird contrast between the backstage kiss-off artist and the onstage genius. However, snatches of the real Dylan do slip through in this footage too. He seems wary and insecure around peers such as Donovan. Before going onstage at the Royal Albert Hall, the man who has just spent a long time telling a reporter that Time magazine is meaningless stops to carefully check himself in the mirror before going on. After the same concert, he seems genuinely upbeat and glad about the performance. In these and a few other glimpses, we see chinks in the armor of the self-conscious rebel, and behold, there is a human being beneath. No wonder the songs are so good. (The sound quality of the live performances isn't great in this film, but then it probably wasn't in real life in those days either.)