All language subtitles for A.Complete.Unknown.2025.Hybrid.2160p.WEB-DL.DV.HDR.DDP5.1.Atmos.H265-AOC

Ladies and gentlemen, Woody Guthrie.

…will take some pressure
off the kicking department…

and Packers star kicker Paul Hornung.

For the NFC Eastern Conference
New York Giants…

they'll be in their away uniforms…

white jerseys with red numerals,
blue helmets, and silver football pants.

The Giants are eight and three
at this stage of the season…

Y.A. Tittle is in at quarterback
as usual for the Giants.

Thank you.

He sang a country song, that doesn't mean
he's not still a Catholic or a Communist.

You're boxin' him in.

You don't think there's a difference
between folk music and country music?

I didn't ask you to box him in.
Nobody asked you to box him in.

You did that. I asked you a question,
you answered a question. There you go.

All right. That's it. That's enough for me.

I'm off. Good night.

Hey, mister, you know where this place is?

Called Greystone.

I think Woody Guthrie's in there.

That's a hospital, pal.

In Morris Plains.

Where is that? Uptown?

No.

Woody's across the river in New Jersey.

Christ, I just came from New Jersey.

So go back.

All rise.

Mr. Seeger, do you have anything to say
before I pronounce your sentence?

In my whole life,
I've never said or done anything…

subversive to my country, Your Honor.

That's not why I'm here.

I'm here because some second-rate politician
from Louisiana…

decided that he don't like a song I sang…

or maybe he don't like some of the folks
I might have sung it to.

Mr. Seeger, a jury has found you guilty
of contempt of congress.

I refused to name names and I…

Refused questions! Under a federal subpoena!

Your Honor, you may know a friend of mine,
Woody Guthrie.

Great songwriter and a great American,
and Woody's not well…

but he's been much on my mind…

as I've been going through this,
'cause Woody once said that…

"a good song can only do good."

That's right!

And the song I'm in hot water for here,
it's a good song.

-It's a patriotic song, in fact.
-Amen!

And I thought…

maybe you'd like to actually hear the words,
and I could play it for you.

-And you'll know.
-No, no, no.

No, you're not doing that.

Quiet!

-I said, quiet!
-Are you sure? It's free.

Now, look at that,
the skies are clearing, see?

Pete! Pete! Pete!

-Pete, are you disappointed?
-Think you got a fair shake?

-Wish you'd testified, Pete?
-How do you feel about the judgement?

We didn't get the result
that we thought was right…

but we're free to fight another day.

I offered to play a song for the judge
up there…

but he didn't wanna hear it.

But I feel like singing.
So, I'm gonna sing it for you.

You know the words.

This land is your land

This land is my land

From California

To the New York Island

From the Redwood Forest

To the Gulf Stream waters

This land was made for you and me

That's all you got?

Yeah.

…been good to know yuh

So long, it's been good to know yuh

So long, it's been good to know yuh

This dusty old dust

It's takin' me home

And I've gotta be driftin' along

Hello.

Excuse me, Mr. Guthrie.

Well, no one calls him that
except the government.

I'm not the government.

Well, come on over, then.

I'm Pete, by the way.

Yes, sir. No question about it.

How about you?

I'm Bobby.

Something come after that?

Dylan.

Woody would like to know more about that,
Bobby Dylan.

I sing and I play…

and I write songs, actually,
a couple of friends of mine…

Paul and John, out in Minneapolis.

Midwestern boy?

Yeah, and they showed me some of
Woody's records, Folkway ones.

Yours and Lead Belly and…

I listened to 'em
while they struck me down to the ground.

I like yours, too, Pete.

Oh, that's fine.

Anyways, Paul, my friend…

he said you was in the hospital, so…

I hitched myself here.

Why is that?

Well, I wanted to meet Woody.

Maybe catch a spark.

That's for damn sure.

We had those printed up for visitors.

It's mostly family now, though.

Woody wants to hear something.

You shy?

Not usually.

Well, this is one I wrote for him.

I wrote for you.

I'm out here a thousand miles from my home

I'm walkin' a road other men have gone down

I'm seein' your world of people and things

Your paupers

And peasants and princes and kings

Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie, I wrote you a song

'Bout a funny ol' world that's a-comin' along

Seems sick and it's hungry
It's a-tired, it's torn

It looks like

It's dyin' and it's a-hardly been born

Hey, hey, Woody Guthrie
But I know that you know

All the things I'm sayin'
and a-many times more

I'm a-singin' you this song
But I can't sing enough

'Cause there's not

Many men that done things that you've done

Here's to Cisco, and Sonny and Lead Belly too

And to all those good people
That traveled with you

Here's to the hearts and the hands of the men

That come

With the dust and are gone with the wind

Do you mind?

Oh, no.

Suspected of collaborating
with the Vietcong…

Slippin' and a-slidin'
Peepin' and a-hidin'

Been told a long time ago

It's Little Richard.

I been told, baby
You been bold…

That's the flipside on Long Tall Sally.

You like that rock and roll music, then?

Well, I like everything, Pete.

Except maybe…

Patti Page and That Doggie in the Window
or, you know, Vaughn Monroe.

I like Johnny Cash. You ever hear of him?

Oh, sure.

Yeah, I like Hank Williams.

Ah, now you're talking.

Yeah.

But if you're talking about rock and roll,
specifically…

you gotta be talking about Buddy Holly.

You think of yourself as a folk musician now,
though. Yeah?

Well, I don't think to myself
as a folk singer…

you know, folk music thing.

I mean, I do sing folk music…

but when I do, it's sort of a modified
version or something.

You know, not a modified version,
it's just, you know, sorta…

A good song. A really good song.

It can get the job done without the frills.

Without drums or electrified instruments
or any of that.

Yeah, but sometimes they sound good.

Hey, Tosh.

This is Bobby…

fellow traveler.

He paid a visit to Woody
and he had nowhere to sleep.

All right.

Hi, Bob.

-Toshi.
-Hello.

Now, we finally got a drill…

hard enough to get through all this rock
and now we got water like a Swiss hotel.

We'll set you up here.

I snore and Toshi kicks me out here
all the time…

so, I can vouch it's comfortable.

The toilet's off the hall there.

It's a new composter. It's amazing.
It doesn't smell just…

Yes, it does.

-Smells so bad!
-Yes, it does. It smells awful!

Go to bed, go to bed. Traitors. All of you.

Bobby, can you go outside to smoke?

Oh, sorry.

If you get cold,
just throw that Indian blanket over you.

Is he going to bed?

He'll settle down. He's just…

excited because he met
one of his heroes tonight.

Not me, Woody.

He played us a hell of a song.

Here's your pancake.

Thank you.

If you're travelin' to the north country fair

Where the winds hit heavy

On the borderline

Remember me

To the one who lives there

For she once was

A true love of mine

I'm wondering

If she remembers me at all

Many times

I've often prayed

In the darkness of my night

In the brightness of my day

That's all I got so far.

Good start.

Now, those of you who can't sing that low…

we're gonna make you sopranos.

You sing…

A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh

A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh

A-wim-a-weh

Try it.

A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-Very delicate, very nice.

-A-wim-a-weh
-Add back in the low.

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-Hey-up-oh-a-wim-a-weh

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-Hey-up-oh-a-wim-a-weh

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-A-bum-buh-weh

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-Hey-up-oh-a-wim-a-weh

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-A-bum-buh-weh

-Hey-up-oh-a-wim-a-weh
-Hey-o, hey-o, hey-o

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-Hey-o-bum-buh-weh

-Hey-up-oh-a-wim-a-weh
-Hey-o, hey-o, hey-o

-A-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh, a-wim-a-weh
-Hey oh-oh hey!

All right.

I'm gonna get you out there.

I am.

-Joan! Have a great show!
-Miss Baez!

It's her, it's her!

Miss Baez. Hey, Miss Baez.

-It's Joan.
-Joan.

Wait. Can you sign this for me?

"Baez sends one scurrying to the thesaurus
for superlatives."

That's the New York Times, Joanie.

Bob Shelton is a fan.

Five minutes, Joan.

Bob Shelton's back, he's at the bar.

So is John Hammond.

Joanie.

Columbia Records.

I have a label and a manager.

Columbia's not a label…

Columbia is Mount Rushmore.

Tony Bennett…

Johnny Mathis, Doris Day, Miles Davis.

They have everyone except their folk singer.

Albert.

Please leave.

Other girls strum, Tito, they smile.

Not Joanie.

She acts depressed, looks at her shoes…

makes men crazy.

If I had listened

To what my mother said

I'd have been

At home today

But I was young

And foolish, oh, God

Let a rambler

Lead me astray

Go tell

My baby sister

Don't do

What I have done

But shun that house

In New Orleans

They call

The Rising Sun

I'm going back

To New Orleans

My race is almost run

I'm going back

To spend my life

Beneath

That Rising

Sun

Thank you.

All right. See you, John.

Joan Baez.

Miss Joanie, Joanie. That was terrific.

-Thanks, Pete.
-Hey, this is my friend, Bobby.

Hey.

-Nice work.
-Thanks.

And now, a special guest…

is going to introduce open mic tonight.

Don't run.
I ain't passing the basket tonight.

A voice we already know…

and love…

Mr. Pete Seeger!

All right, well…

Month or so ago…

Woody and I met a young man.

He kinda just dropped in on us…

and he sang us a song.

Well, it fairly struck us to the ground.

And Woody and I felt that maybe we were
getting a glimpse of a new road.

This young man, he's been playing around town
a bit…

but I thought it was high time
he took the stage at Folk City.

So, I want you to give a warm welcome
to Bob Dylan.

All right. Cheers.

Oh, man.
All right, thanks, folks.

Thanks, Pete.

Boy, that's a lot to live up to.

Well…

I hope this goes better than it did
in East Orange, New Jersey.

I'm from New Jersey!

How 'bout that Joan Baez, folks?

Yeah!

She's pretty good.

And she's pretty.

Sings pretty.

Maybe a little too pretty.

Anyway, here's a lil' something I wrote.

I hope you think it's good.

It's gotta be good for somebody.

I was young when I left home

And I've been a-ramblin' round

And I never wrote a letter to my home

To my home

Lord, to my home

No, I never wrote a letter

To my home

It was just the other day

I was bringin' home my pay

When I met an old friend I used to know

Said, "Your mother's dead and gone"

Sister's all gone wrong

And your daddy needs you home

Right away

Not a shirt on my back

Not a penny on my name

He has originals, too, you know.

And I can't go home thisaway

Thisaway

-He's very good, isn't he?
-Yeah.

He's my client.

Lord, Lord, Lord

And I can't go home thisaway

What does two o'clock mean to you?

'Cause I'll tell you what it means
to John Hammond.

-It means two fucking o'clock!
-All right. Okay.

And right now,
it's five minutes past three.

-Are you packin' heat, Albert?
-Get outta here.

That looks like a snub nose.

"Cross between a choirboy and a beatnik.

"Mr. Dylan has a cherubic look…

"and a mop of tousled hair…"

-Stop, Albert. I don't wanna hear this, man.
-"Tousled hair…

"that he keeps beneath a Huck Finn cap.

"His clothes need tailoring.

"But when he works his guitar…

"there's no doubt he's bursting at the seams
with talent.

-"His voice…"
-Hey!

A rave from The Times.

This is our floor.

-All right.
-Come on, come on, come on.

-Okay, Bob. Let's lay one down, yeah?
-Okay.

C, O, seven-six-six-seven-one…

Fixin' to Die, take one.

Feelin' funny in my mind, Lord
I believe I'm fixin' to die

Feelin' funny in my mind, Lord
I believe I'm fixin' to die

-Well, I don't…
-Hey, Bob.

Sorry.

Can we start again?
You keep turning from the mic.

-Oh, yeah. All right.
-All right.

Fixin' to Die, take two.

Great.

Feelin' funny in my mind, Lord
I believe I'm fixin' to die

He has originals, too, you know…

and they're really good.

Traditional repertoire for now, Albert.

We're putting a younger face on folk.

Well, everybody's got somethin'

That they're lookin' forward to

I'm lookin' forward to when
I can do it all again

'Cause babe, I'll do it all over you

Let me tell you little lover
That you better run for cover

'Cause babe, I'll do it all over you

All right.

Thank you so much. Thank you. Thank you.
Thanks for letting me play.

Thank you to Brownie, and Sonny, especially.

I hope by God,
I'll see you guys again, bye-bye.

Ladies and gentlemen, Bobby Dylan.

That boy plays some harp.

People, if you wanna go somewhere…

and you don't have plane fare…

train fare, bus fare…

cab fare, no fare whatsoever.

There's one way of gettin' there.

You just walk on.

Walk on

Walk on

Walk on

Walk on

Walk on

Walk on

Walk on, I say walk on

I'm gonna keep on walkin'

Till I find my way back home

How old are you?

20.

You wrote those songs?

Yeah, last two.

You're good.

What, you mean for my age?

Well, thanks.

Who's that guy?

That's Alan Lomax.

That's what he does.

He runs the Archive of American Folk.

They record folk music.

How do you know so much?

My sister works for him.

I'm gonna keep on walkin'

Till I find my way back home

Walk on, Sonny boy
Walk on, boy

You want a peanut?

I used to live on these things
when I worked at the carnival.

You worked at the carnival?

Strongmen, fire-eaters.

Oh, one lady, her skin was all burnt off.
She looked like a grown-up, wrinkly baby.

-Ew!
-Yeah.

It made me think about people on stage…

about anyone who gets on a stage, you know…

anyone's who's gonna hold your attention
on a stage.

Have to kinda be a freak.

Not everyone.

Anyone who's good.

Are you a freak?

Yeah, I hope so.

Frank Sinatra's not a freak.

Well, that voice ain't human.

You can be beautiful, or you can be ugly,
but you can't be plain.

You gotta be something
people can't stop looking at…

like a train wreck or a car crash.

Oh, you seen this?

No. I thought we were going to see
Guernica at the Museum.

Ah, Picasso's overrated.

You got a dollar?

Two for the matinee.

And will you be happy, Charlotte?

Oh, Jerry, don't let's ask for the moon.

We have the stars.

So…

Bette Davis was a mousy girl…

who had to escape her domineering mother
to find herself.

-She runs away, becomes beautiful…
-"Find herself"? I don't know about that.

…returns home, destroys her mom…

and adopts the child of a man
she can never have.

She didn't "find herself"…

like her "self" was a missing shoe
or something.

She just made herself
into something different.

Something better.

Different.

Okay.

You know, what she wanted to be,
in that moment.

What do you wanna be?

A musician.

Who eats.

Well, I like your songs.

My record comes out in a couple weeks.

Some of the songs you played today
on your record?

Well, it's mostly covers.

Just traditional stuff.

You know, folk songs are supposed to
stand the test of time, like…

Shakespeare or something.

They say no one wants to hear
what a kid wrote last month.

Who's they?

Record company.

My manager.

I'm sorry…

but Where Have All the Flowers Gone
is not Shakespeare.

I mean…

there was a time when the old songs were new,
right?

Someone at some point
had to give the songs a chance.

I mean…

There's a civil war going on down south.

Biggest military buildup in history.

Nuclear bombs hanging over us.

It's not all about the Dust Bowl…

and Johnny Appleseed anymore.

Monday to Thursday, I'm at school.

Then I volunteer at CORE,
Fridays and Saturdays.

And I take a painting class
Sunday mornings in Queens.

What's CORE?

-Congress of Racial Equality.
-Oh, yeah.

-We organized the freedom rides.
-All right.

This is me.

Dwight MacDonald wrote a wonderful piece
in here.

I think you'll like him.

He's contrarian, like you.

All right, I'll take a look.

What are you doin' tomorrow?

I told you my schedule.

Oh, yeah, painting. In Queens.

I'm at my mom's in the afternoon.

Call me there?

Hey there. Have you got any more Joan Baez?

No, you got the last one.

Amidst the resistance
from the Negro community…

Commissioner Connor has vowed to stand firm.

Birmingham is home to 700 churches…

and the Black churches serve
as the gathering spots…

Let us help you stimulate your conscience.

Let us help you see the wrongs
you have committed.

Once you see them, you will surely change.

But there has been no change.

We've been publishing it, but the press
doesn't seem to notice.

Hi.

Package for Zimmerman?

Oh, yeah. Thanks.

You need to sleep, babe.

Yeah, I know.

Yes, and how many times

Can a man turn his head

And pretend that he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend

Is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind

Yes, and how many times

-Must a man…
-That's enough!

-That's enough now!
-All right, just let me finish the verse.

Mr. Guthrie needs quiet now.

You got a lotta nerve taking a cigarette
out a man's mouth.

There is another gentleman in this room,
and he's trying to rest.

You know, he been resting six months.
I don't think it's workin'.

I'm trying to look out for your health,
Mr. Guthrie.

You know, last guy let us sing.

Do I look like the last guy?

No, you look like a bona fide asshole.

Whoa, easy, Bob.
Hello, George.

Mr. Guthrie is here for treatment,
Mr. Seeger.

-That's true, yeah.
-He has a serious disease…

and he's sharin' his room with a guest.

Yeah, a guest in a coma!

George, reasonable people can work
these things out.

This is a hospital, not a nightclub.

Well, I guess every deck come
with two jokers, don't it?

She's a new favorite. I call her Jane.

I'm moving away from the abstract a bit
and trying to move into faces.

What about Hank Williams, Tom? In your
estimable opinion, is he country or folk?

-He's country.
-It don't matter.

'Cause he got pedal steel behind him?

Bob, man, you're telling me
there's no difference?

-Sylvie, you gotta hear this, man.
- No, man.

You can call it country or blues
or rock and roll…

but we all keep rewriting the same songs.

Are these his friends from his circus days?

Stop it, Gena.

Is his real name Zimmerman?

Move along.

Mr. Johnny Cash!

He started out in country music
and sorta made the transition over into pop.

Ain't no transition, man.

Gotta label him with
that corny bullshit, man.

Please remember garbage on Tuesdays.

Except if Monday's a holiday,
which it will be next week.

You got it.

I have to do this.

It's a school trip, it's required.

All right, you said that already,
like, three times.

It's only 12 weeks.

Well, God made the world in six days.

So?

So, 12 weeks' a lot longer.

What am I supposed to do
with the extra 65 days?

Are you God, Bob?

How many times do I have to say this?

Yes.

I think about how much I'm gonna miss you…

then I realize…

I don't know you.

There's a face on your driver's license.
He's different.

-Has a different name.
-Wow.

When I get back,
I'd like to get to know that guy.

Don't do this, Sylvie.

You wrote a five-minute song about
this girl in Minneapolis.

Who was that? What happened?

You tell me you dropped out of college…

No, I didn't drop out of college.

-I didn't say that.
-You came here with nothing but a guitar.

You never talk about your family, your past,
besides the "carnival."

'Cause people make up their past, Sylvie.

They remember what they want,
they forget the rest!

I tell you everything.

My folks, my sister, the street I grew up on.

Yeah, I never asked you about any of it.

-What, you think that stuff defines you?
-What I come from?

What I want and what I don't want,
what I reject.

Yes!

Good thing you're going to Rome.

And then what?

I come back and live
with a mysterious minstrel?

No, mysterious minstrels
sell more than 1,000 records.

Maybe just don't come back at all.

Oh, Christ, come on, Sylvie.

Stop hiding.

We both know you can't wait
to have your place to yourself.

Jesus. Part of me.

Not all of me.

What? You want me to make sense
100% of the time?

There's a lot I want.

And you do too. You're ambitious.

I think that scares you.

"The line has been drawn.

"The curse has been cast.

"The slow one now will later be…"

Your record was all other people's music.

Good evening, my fellow citizens.

This government, as promised…

has maintained the closest surveillance…

of the Soviet military buildup…

on the island of Cuba.

Within the past week…

unmistakable evidence
has established the fact…

that a series of offensive missile sites…

is now in preparation…

on that imprisoned island.

The purpose of these bases…

can be none other…

than to provide a nuclear
strike capability…

against the Western Hemisphere.

Upon receiving the first preliminary
hard information…

last Tuesday morning at 9:00 am…

I directed that our surveillance
be stepped up.

It shall be the policy of this nation…

to regard any nuclear missile…

launched from Cuba against any nation
in the Western Hemisphere…

as an attack by the Soviet Union
on the United States…

requiring a full retaliatory response…

If invasion is undertaken…

the Russians have said
that they would retaliate…

with rocket fire.

We have said if there's rocket fire
from Cuba…

we will retaliate…

and there goes the whole ball game.

-So, how do we relate Berlin as the…
-What's on TV?

On the question of immediate relief
or optimism here…

that nobody in the White House
is willing to say…

Pick up.

Come on.

They do not believe that the 24 hours
of waiting is over.

There's still considerable belief…

that the confrontation in the Caribbean
will come yet tonight.

No one can guarantee that American families
on the eastern seaboard…

will be alive tomorrow.

Hey!

Hey, taxi! Taxi! Taxi! Hey! Come on!

Thank you.

This is a new one.

Come you masters of war

You that build the big guns

You that build the death planes

You that build all the bombs

You hide in your mansion

While the young people's blood

Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud

Let me ask you one question

Is your money that good?

Will it buy you forgiveness

Do you think that it could?

I think you will find

When your death takes its toll

All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul

And I'll watch while you're lowered

Down to your deathbed

And I'll stand over your grave

'Til I'm sure that you're dead

Thank you, Bob.

Troubling time, go find someone to love.

American forces stand on edge…

with naval ships positioned
throughout the Caribbean.

The Unites States almost went to nuclear war.

Perhaps no one will ever know
how close it came…

except for Nikita Khrushchev who
apparently had no illusions.

The feeling in official Washington…

after one of the most frightening weeks
in history…

is that it's too early for elation…

but not too early to wonder what happened…

and why it happened.

Moscow, of course, in the last 48 hours…

has seemed contradictory and zigzagged…

as if the Kremlin were having
a great, private debate.

The I's are not dotted,
and the T's are not crossed…

but everything seems easier.

The mood here is still cautious,
spelled with a capital C.

Khrushchev has offered
to remove his missiles from Cuba.

If he does, we will call off the quarantine
and there will be no invasion.

The President today called
Khrushchev's decision statesmanlike.

Has the United States made a deal
with Moscow?

The answer is no.

What, then, is in this for Khrushchev?

There will be no armed showdown,
there will be no nuclear war.

The Cuban problem
will still be there for us…

Well, that's that.

Now to the news…

Who taught you to play?

Well, I taught myself really.

Picked up a few licks at the carnival.

At the carnival?

Oh, yeah, there was singin' cowboys
that'd come through…

teach me all sorts of funny chords.

Yeah, they'd pass through in the shows
in Kansas or Dakotas.

Yeah, these chords I learned
from a cowboy named Wigglefoot.

You were in a carnival?

You are so completely full of shit.

I had lessons as a kid,
you know, normal lessons.

I write too. I'm not sure there's a way
to learn that.

Too hard.

Excuse me?

You try too hard.

To write.

Really?

Yeah, if you're askin'.

I wasn't.

Sunsets and seagulls.

Smell of buttercups.

Your songs are like an oil painting
at the dentist's office.

You're kind of an asshole, Bob.

Yeah, I guess.

Play this.

How many roads must a man walk down

Before you call him a man?

How many seas must a white dove sail

Before she sleeps in the sand?

Yes and how many times

Must the cannon balls fly

Before they are forever banned?

The answer, my friend

Is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind

How many years must a mountain exist

Before it is washed to the sea?

How many years can some people exist

Before they're allowed to be free?

Yes, and how many times

Can a man turn his head

Pretend that he just doesn't see?

The answer, my friend

Is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind

How many times must a man look up

Before he can see the sky?

How many ears must one man have

Before he can hear people cry?

Yes and how many deaths

Will it take 'til he knows

That too many people have died?

The answer, my friend

Is blowin' in the wind

The answer is blowin' in the wind

So, this is…

What?

I don't know.

Have you recorded that song?

No, not yet.

You should let me try it.

Okay. Oh, shit. All right, I gotta go.

Yeah, I gotta go. Sorry.

-Hey!
-Hi!

-Here, I'll take that.
-Oh, how beautiful.

How you doin'?

-Thank you, baby.
-Yes!

-You okay?
-Here, I'll take your stuff.

-Okay.
-Yeah.

Welcome home.

Did you teach yourself to make coffee?

Oh, yeah.

It ain't no use to sit and wonder why, babe

If'n you don't know by now

And it ain't no use
To sit and wonder why, babe

It'll never do somehow

When your rooster crows at the break of dawn

Who wrote this?

-Look out your window and I'll be gone
-He did.

You're the reason I'm a-travelin' on

-Hey, Sylvie, get in here.
-What?

We look good?

And it ain't no use in turnin' on your light
Babe

The light

I never knowed

And it ain't no use in turning on your light

I'm on the dark side of the road

Still, I wish there was somethin' you could
Do or say

Make me wanna change my mind and stay

We never did too much talking anyway

Don't think twice, it's all right

Excuse me, yeah! That's it.

Get the master at work here.
The whole laboratory.

-Albert!
-Yes, sir.

I don't want 'em to shoot my desk, man.

Pal, what did I say to you? No desk.

-You can plug that here.
-What did I say?

No, Sylvie, don't bring 'em in here.

I didn't bring them, Bob, you did.

They're here for you.

That for Woody?

Yeah, I'm gonna drop it off
on the way to the airport.

Here. Put your finger there.

-Is that Joan?
-Yeah.

So, she's covering your song?

Yeah.

Before your version comes out?

Albert thinks it helps.

Helps her.

Helps him sign her.

She's famous, Sylvie.

Been on the cover of Time Magazine.

They recorded her live.

She didn't know they were gonna
put it on the radio.

'Course not.

So, you gave her the song.

I didn't give her the song.

Bobby, we're ready over here, pal.

You're gonna see her in California?

Well, it's her festival.

Okay, he's all set up here.

I'm just tryin' to get on a plane
and do a show, Sylvie.

Okay, right here.

You're in the shot, sweetheart.

Hey, there.

It's a great place, Joan.

Want me to show you the rest?

Okay.

This what you're playing these days?

Top string got a little buzz to it.

Not when I play it.

The new record is beautiful.

You think?

If you're travelin' in the north country fair

Where the winds hit heavy
On the borderline

Remember me
To the one who lives there

For she once was
A true love of mine

Please see if her hair hangs long

If it rolls and flows all

Down her breast

Please see for me if her hair hangs long

For that's the way I remember her best

Hello.

John Hammond said you had somethin' for me.

My name is…

I know who you are.

-One moment.
-Okay.

-Oh, boy.
-Fan letters.

All right. Thanks.

And Mr. Hammond's office set these aside
for you.

Dear Bob…

Well, I won't grope for the words to tell you
how great your writing is.

I'll just say…

your Freewheelin' album
is my most prized possession.

Thank you.

Johnny Cash.

Oh, where have you been
My blue-eyed son?

Oh, where have you been
My darling young one?

I've stumbled on the side
Of 12 misty mountains

I walked and I crawled
On six crooked highways

I've stepped in the middle
Of seven sad forests

Oh, my God.

-Bob! Bob!
-Bob Dylan?

Hey, Bob, where you goin'?

Over 300,000 marchers descended
on Washington today…

to demand the end of segregation.

From New York, Bob Dylan.

When the marshals and cops fled the scene

I met one man he was wounded in love

-Bob! You're the best!
-Bob, please!

I saw a newborn baby with wild wolves
All around it

I saw a highway of diamonds with nobody on it

Dear Johnny. Thanks for that letter.

I am now famous.

Famous by the rules of…

public famiousity.

It snuck up on me and pulverized me.

To quote Mr. Freud, I get quite paranoid.

Bob, got your letter.

Tonight, I sit in the wake
of one more hard rain.

I was in New York last week…

saw a bunch of folk singers
that couldn't hold a chigger on your ass.

Well, I'll see you in Newport come spring.

Until then, track mud on somebody's carpet.

And I'll tell it and think it and speak it
And breathe it

And reflect it from the mountain
So all souls can see it

This is your dream.

Folk music reaching everybody.

But I'll know my song well
Before I start singin'

And it's a hard
It's a hard

It's a hard
It's a hard

It's a hard rain's a-gonna fall

Thank you.

Newcomb portable, eh?

You're gettin' fancy on me.

Toshi and I…

we think it's a good moment,
you know, after Newport, to do a tour.

But we're thinking we should do a world tour.

Take the music out to more people.

I'm thinking we see Toshi's family in Japan,
and we want to take the kids.

But…

You gotta hold on.

You gotta do what they tell you to do.

You gotta take your medicine and…

You wanna play?

No, right, I know.

I gotta fix that one. That needs a reed.

Bob.

Bob.

Sure. Yeah. No.

I'll see that he gets it.

From Dallas, Texas, the flash,
apparently official…

President Kennedy died at 1:00 p.m.
Central Standard Time…

2:00 Eastern Standard Time…

some 38 minutes ago.

Show me the whiskey stains
On the floor

Show me the drunkard

As he stumbles out the door

And I'll show you a young man

With so many reasons why

But there but for fortune

Go you or I

Show me the country

Where the bombs had to fall

Show me the ruins

Of the buildings once so tall

And I'll show you a young man

-With so many reasons why
-Thank you.

But there but for fortune

Go you and I

You and I

Thank you, Newport.

Thank you.

Thanks so much.

Thank you, everyone. See you soon.

You see who showed up?

You all right if I slip him on,
right after Joan?

-Yeah? You'll go on right after…
-Yeah, sure. No sweat, Pete.

-Okay. Thank you. Thank you.
-Okay. All right.

Bob Dylan!

-That was beautiful.
-Thank you.

-All right, all right.
-Bring out Bob!

He's comin'. He's a-comin'.

All right. Bobby's comin',
fear not, fear not.

But now, listen…

we got a surprise appearance.

If you look on your programs…

you'll see someone who was supposed
to be here last night…

who was absent without official leave,
as they say.

Hey, Johnny.

Bobby Dylan. Come here, you.

You know, I read that last letter six times.

-That thing was economy-sized.
-Oh, yeah.

How about we get us a drink after the show?

Yeah, all right.

I think I'm up after you.

All right, Bobby.

But he's here, and all the sweeter
for the waitin' as they say.

And so please give a warm welcome
to Johnny Cash and the Tennessee Three.

-Let's go.
-All right.

Hello.

All right, fellas.

Let's get these beatniks out of their seats
real quick.

Tie one on.

All right!

All right, thank you, Newport.

Thank you very much.

Thank you, thank you.

Well, the next fella up is my pen pal.

And sometimes, when I read his letters,
I think I can see his brain.

Anyway, all I know is…

you better sing about that rooster crowing
till the break of dawn…

'cause I need to learn those damn words.

Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Bob Dylan!

Thank you, Johnny.

And thank you, Newport Folk Festival.

Maybe hear about that rooster
a little bit later on.

Here's a new one.

Come gather 'round people
Wherever you roam

And admit that the waters
Around you have grown

And accept it that soon
You'll be drenched to the bone

If your time to you is worth savin'

Then you better start swimmin'
or you'll sink like a stone

For the times they are a-changin'

Come writers and critics
Who prophesize with your pen

And keep your eyes wide
The chance won't come again

And don't speak too soon
For the wheel's still in spin

And there's no tellin' who that it's namin'

For the loser now will be later to win

-For the times they are a-changin'
-They are a-changin'

Come mothers and fathers
Throughout the land

And don't criticize
What you can't understand

Your sons and your daughters
Are beyond your command

The order is rapidly agin'

Please get out of the new one
If you can't lend a hand

-For the times they are a-changin'
-Times they are a-changin'

The line it is drawn
The curse it is cast

The slow one now
Will later be fast

As the present now
Will later be past

The order is rapidly fadin'

And the first one now will later be last

-For the times they are a-changin'
-Times they are a-changin'

Way to go, Bobby.

Rollin' down the street in the early dawn

Hey, Bob.

You got kids?

Yeah.

Thousands of 'em.

He's here.

Excuse me, one second.

Hey, Bob. Bobby.

Come on in. Thank you so much for coming.

-Here, let me take your jacket.
-Oh, thank you.

Shirley, here. Take this, please.

It's a wonderful cause.
We truly appreciate you coming.

-You good? You happy?
-Yeah.

-You thirsty?
-Is there a bar or somethin'?

Yeah. This way, my friend.

-Hey, Bob. I love Tambourine Man.
-Oh, thanks.

So when's the new album out?

Soon.

Can songs really change things, Bob?

-Well, they change keys.
-Hey, Bob, where do songs come from?

Bobby!

We miss you at the Archive!

How are you? Word on the street…

is you're making quite a noise down there
in Studio A, huh?

This is Becka, by the way.

Nice to meet you.

Listen, Bob, you don't have to compete
with the Beatles.

-Okay?
-Yeah.

You are better than that shit.

Alan, you're obsessed with the Beatles.
Please.

Can I get two glasses
of red wine, please?

You didn't bring your guitar with you, Bobby.

What, are you saving yourself
for your little tour with Joanie?

Not little, Harold. Sold out.

Hey, listen, that's wonderful!

And honestly, the last thing I wanna do now
is put pressure on you…

but the dirty little secret
is most everybody here is here…

'cause they're hoping you'd play
a little something.

Where'd they get that idea, Harold?

What'd you pull me into, man?

-Is this a fucking gig or something?
-The prodigal.

-It's anything you want it to be.
-He's back.

-Hey, Pete.
-Hi.

-How you doin'?
-Good.

-Nice to see you.
-Great to see you.

Toshi, how are you doin'?

Well, you made it around the world
in 80 days, huh?

Magic carpet ride.

Just full of wonder. Full of wonder.

This is Becka, by the way.

Nice to meet you.
This is my wife, Toshi.

Nice to meet you.

I absolutely love your music.

-I'm such a big fan, Mr. Seeger.
-No. No, I'm Pete.

-Pete.
-Oh, Pete. Pete.

Harold is putting the lean on you, yeah?

-Trying to get you to play?
-Yeah, little bit.

All right. Well, don't hold it against him.

It's for a good cause.

Wanna use this beauty?

You always keep it handy, huh, Pete?

He's like a gunfighter with his six-gun.

Always keeping it close.

Oh the time will come up
When the winds will stop

And the breeze will cease to be breathin'

Like the stillness in the wind
'Fore the hurricane begins

The hour that the ship comes in

And the seas will split
And the ship will hit

And the sands on the shoreline
Will be shakin'

And the tide will sound
And the wind will pound

And the mornin' will be breakin'

-Thank you. That was great!
-Thanks.

I can't wait for the new album.

Hey, thank you, Bob. Truly.

Listen, don't forget the Sing Out benefit
next month.

Talk to me about that, Harold.
Have fun. Have a good night.

You were amazing.

Two hundred people in that room
and each one wants me to be somebody else.

They should just fuck off and let me be.

Be what?

Excuse me?

They should fuck off and let you be what?

I don't know.

Whatever it is they don't want me to be.

Yeah, well, I'm not a horse…

so I don't like carrying
other people's weight.

Yeah. Well, I got a hundred pounds on me
that don't show on that scale.

How do you sing, then?

I put myself in another place.

But I'm a stranger there.

Hey, what's your name, man?

Bobby. Like you, man.

Bobby Neuwirth.

Where you goin'?

I got a gig with some guys
in the East Village.

Spot called McAnn's.

Hey.

Hey.

You have a tour with Joan Baez.
Were you gonna tell me about that?

Am I just more weight?

They wanna own me, Becka.
Is that what you want?

I love you.

Is that scary to you?

Well, I just met you. So…

Yeah.

We had one million bags
Of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stones

We had three million sides
Of old blind horses hides

We had four million barrels of bones

We had five million hogs

That's him.

That's Bob fucking Dylan right there.

-Where?
-No, that's him.

-It's him!
-Bob! Bob.

Bob. Bob.

Bob. Bob.

Take your glasses off.
Let me see your eyes!

-Hey, get off!
-Fuck off!

Hey, hey. Hey.

What are you doin', man?

Bob.

It's 4:00 a.m.

Bob.

We broke up, remember?

Can I just get a towel for this?

Thanks.

You know, everyone asks
where these songs come from, Sylvie.

But when you watch their faces,
they're not asking where the songs come from.

They're asking why the songs
didn't come to them.

Who is it, Sylvie?

Discover what you set out to find

Come on, give it to me

I'll keep it

Say, "Beware doll
You're bound to fall"

You thought they were all kidding you

You used to

People call, say

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

Threw the bums a dime in your prime

Didn't you?

It's not Mike Bloomfeld, Albert.
It's Mike Bloomfield.

He's a Chicago blues guitar player.

Okay, I can't get him tomorrow.

-I can get another guitar…
-No.

I don't want any of your old session
musicians, man.

I want young guys with hair on their heads…

a guitar player, and a bass player…

an organ player, and a drum player.

I'm gonna try my best but I can't guarantee
that we're gonna get him tomorrow.

I don't want to hear it. Get it done.

Ah, get sick, get well
Hang around a ink well

Hang bell, hard to tell
If anything is goin' to sell

Try hard, get barred
Get back, write braille

Get jailed, jump bail
Join the army, if you fail

Look out kid
You're gonna get hit

-By losers, cheaters, six-time users
-Well, this is gonna piss some people off.

George! Victor said he went by the shop
and got fitted for your daughter's wedding.

-Hello, hello, hello.
-There he is.

Welcome to the center of the universe.

-Alan, let's talk Newport.
-Hello, Harold. Peter.

All right. Give me Saturday night again,
please.

-Yes, we have Ian and Sylvia.
-Right.

Odetta, Donovan…

Johnny Cash and Kweskin…

And Theodore Bikel.

Yes, I was just getting to me.

I also have this proposal on the table
for the Butterfield Blues Band.

Remind me who they are.

-Chicago blues band.
-Electric blues band.

A white electric blues band.

They're hot, Alan.

The guitarist, Mike Bloomfield,
is unbelievable.

Oh, yeah. I'm sure he is.

He comes from that Albert Grossman's stable
like you, Peter.

Knock it off.

I hear Bob is playing electric now.

Not on our stage, he isn't.

There is no rock and roll in Newport.

We don't need to be dogmatic.

Okay, okay.

So, what is the verdict on the Butterfields?

We already have blues players.
And we got real ones.

You never heard them, Alan.

Newport Folk Festival was created
to fight a riptide of inauthentic shit.

-I understand that…
-No, you don't understand, Peter.

I'm sorry, but Peter,
Paul and Mary is a confection.

-Paul's name ain't even Paul.
-Okay, Alan.

-Albert Grossman changed his name…
-All right, all right.

-…because he thought it sounded better.
-Thank you so much.

It's like fucking Ritz Crackers.

Now, stop it. Stop it!

Now, Peter, don't go, don't go.

We're gonna work it out.
We're gonna work it out.

We are here to celebrate folk music.

From the people, for the people, Pete.

The sound of a guitar…

-and a man's voice.
-Or a woman's.

-Alan, please. Let's calm down.
-Don't talk to me about ticket sales, Harold.

-I don't give a shit.
-Okay.

Hey, Tom, give me a second,
I want to try something.

All right.

You're in trouble, man.

Highway 61, take seven.

Man, you can't look at me like that.

'Cause then…

All right, guys.

Okay, wait.

Don't look at me like that,
'cause I gotta get through the take.

If you got that thing on your face,
I'm gonna explode.

All right, let's just do it before
this whole thing crashes into the ground.

One, two, three.

Oh, God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son"

Abe said, "Man, you must be puttin' me on"

God said, "No"

Abe said, "What?"

God said, "You can do what you want, Abe

"But the next time you see me comin'
You better run"

Of rainbow design

Thanks for tuning in this evening.

Even though I can't see you out there
through this little magic box…

tonight, we'll continue
our Rainbow Quest together…

to seek out all the songs and colors…

and kinds of human beings
that live in this land of ours.

Now, if you tuned in tonight hoping
to hear our friend, Bob Dylan…

well, I don't wanna disappoint you…

but Bob's been hung up
in the studio in New York.

He'll come another time.

But tonight, we've got a very special guest.

A good friend of mine from the deep
Mississippi Delta named Jesse Moffette.

And when he heard we had a gap,
he jumped in a cab…

and he came right over
and he's live with us at NJU.

-Thanks for being here.
-Well, thanks for having me.

So good to be with ya.

Well, you want to have a drink with me?

Oh, no, no. Not while I'm working. No. Yeah.

What kinda station is this anyway?

This is educational, Jesse.

This is a local public educational channel,
yeah.

Educational? Shit, I do educational!

I offer blues lessons in the privacy
of your own home.

-You wanna learn the blues?
-Sure.

Call me at Rhinelander 8-4-6-0-2.

And do me a favor. Bring me a bottle
of anything…

-All right, all right.
-…that ain't pasteurized.

Jesse, let's play something.
What music have you got for us?

I'll play for you, oh yeah.

Let's play. Give us something deep.

Pain in my heart

Pain in my soul

Tell me baby

Oh, Lord

Ten long years

Lord, girl, I've been lovin' you

I'm so sorry. We're live now.
I can't just let you walk out.

That's okay.
I'm not looking to interrupt anything.

Oh, Lord, yeah

It's okay.

It's just wonderful, it's magical, Jesse.

Now, now…

Well, hold on just one second, folks.

We've got a really, really special treat.

-Bob did make it.
-Nah, I'm good.

Bob's here.
Bob, come on.

-It's all right, man.
-No, come on out.

Come on out. It's all right.

I'm glad you came.
I'm glad you came, yeah.

Jesse, say hi to a really
good friend of mine.

This is Bobby Dylan.

Bob. What kinda music do you play?

Well, I play all sorts. I mean…

-What kinda music do you say I play?
-Oh, Bob plays a lot of kinds…

and he plays all of them well.

You trying to steal my spot?

No, I'm not trying to steal your spot, Jesse.

I was really I was trying to figure out
what kinda tuning you were using.

I don't think I ever heard it before.

Nobody can, only me.

Look here. How close were you watching me?

Well, I was watching real close, Jesse.

I got these special binoculars, right?

And they allow me to see into your soul.

Really?

I see exactly what you were playing.

-It's like a tiny little microscope, right?
-Oh, watch out.

-Is that right?
-Yeah.

Do me a favor. Here.

Take my guitar and show me…

-how close you really was watching, my man.
-No, I can't.

Couldn't do that, Jesse,
that's like touching your woman.

It's okay. All right.
Just don't squeeze her too tight.

-It's all right, Pete?
-Oh, yeah.

It's a family station. You can…

As long as I don't squeeze her too tight.

Then it's all right.
I'm gonna… watch this.

Pain in my heart

Pain in my soul

Oh, baby, I don't know

Ten long years

Oh, baby, I've been lovin' you

Well, I ride on a mail train, babe

I can't buy no thrill

And I've been up all night, babe
I'm leaning on the windowsill

Here we are, man.

Aw, shit.

Ah, my second guess.

Hi.

What?

You want me to catch up with you
or something?

Yeah.

…mouthpiece of the hollow horn.

Plays wasted words…

Pointed threats, they bluff with scorn,
suicide remarks are torn.

From fool's gold,
from the fool's gold mouthpiece…

and the fool's gold mouthpiece,
the hollow horn…

plays wasted words, proves to warn.

That he not busy being born…

That he not busy being born…

-Bob?
-What?

Never mind.

Fool's gold, fool's gold mouthpiece,
the hollow horn.

Plays wasted words,
wasted words proves to warn.

He not busy being born.

He's busy dying.

That he not busy being born is busy dying

Why did you come here?

What?

To make me watch you write?

What are you doing, Joan?

Why are you asking me that?

Why did you come here?

I came to see you.

You're acting like a jerk.

Why, 'cause I got out of your bed?

Get out.

What?

Get out.

Are you kiddin'?

No, Bob, I'm not kidding. Get out.

Now!

Okay.

You know, Albert booked us on a tour, Joan.

People, you know, on tour,
they typically sing songs together.

Somebody's gotta write those songs.

It's my fucking guitar.

See ya on tour.

I don't wanna fake you out

Take or shake or forsake you out

I ain't lookin' for you to feel like me

See like me or be like me

All I really want to do

Is, baby, be friends with you

The motorcycle black Madonna

Two-wheeled gypsy queen

Hey, Bob. Where the fuck are you?

I don't know. Every time I drink…

I'm right here, Joan.

You guys can see me, right?

All right, what's next?

I don't wanna play that. I mean,
they already got that song on the record.

Pick another song.

Joan, choose somethin' else.

You guys wanna hear
Blowin' in the Wind, right?

Nah, man, I don't… Look…

It's why they came here, Bob.

Nah, I don't believe they came here
to hear that song.

'Cause I don't believe the set list…

I don't believe a set list was advertised.

No, no set list…

Unless that draconian figure…

from Chicago, United States up there promised
songs that weren't gonna be played.

What in the fuck?

No, man, it's not a request type concert.

If you wanna do that, go see Donovan.

But here, we're gonna play new songs.

Pick somethin' else, Joan.

Pick somethin' else.

Oh, boy. Wow.

Okay, well…

I think my guitar broke.

Yeah.

Hey, listen man, don't get mad.

-Hey, the truth is it broke on the way here.
-Oh, come on, Bob!

-No.
-Get off the stage!

Hey, man.

The bus I came to
actually caught fire on the way here…

and my guitar ain't even on me right now.

So, I'm gonna just go see
the guitar doctor backstage.

Or something, you know.

Well, gee, I hope the doctor
can save his guitar.

I'll play it for ya.

How many roads

Hey, hey, hey!

Come on.

Welcome back, Neuwirth.

That yours?

It's Bob's. He bought it in London.

Railroad Bill, Railroad Bill

Never worked and he never will

And it's ride, ride, ride

Railroad Bill was a mighty mean man

He shot the midnight lantern
Out of the brakeman's hand

And it's ride, ride, ride

Pick it up a little bit.

-Railroad Bill, y'know he took a wife
-He took a wife

Said if I didn't like it
He would take my life

I'm gonna ride, ride, ride

Who are you?

I'm Al Kooper.

What? You're Al Kooper?

He's another guitar player.

Yeah. Tom told me to fall by.

We already have a guitar player, man.
Mike Bloomfield.

And he's really good.

To be better than him,
you'd have to be Blind Willie McTell.

I don't care about money.
I wanna play, man.

No one's on organ.

You don't play keyboards, Al.

Still, don't even worry
about what we're doin'.

-Play like you're in the room alone.
-All right.

Play for yourself until it sounds good.

All right.

-Let's scratch the waltz thing.
-Yeah.

Let's just go back
to what we were doing before.

-Doin' it in four?
-Yeah. I think it's gonna sound better.

-Little slower?
-Yeah, a little slower.

You know, not in that crazy pace.

Yeah. Not too fast.

Yeah. All right.

Like A Rolling Stone, take eight.

Ready?

-One, two…
-It's in C.

-One, two, three.
-Right.

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

Threw the bums a dime in your prime

Didn't you?

Newport never seen threads like these, man.

Hey, Bobby, give me that compass, man.

-Ah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
-I'll wear it somewhere.

Gimme that one, right there. Thank you.

What are you doing downtown, Pete?
I thought you'd already be in Newport.

Trying to get together with Grossman,
talk about your set…

but I'd rather not talk to the middleman.

You wanna get a cup of coffee?

But we're still closing, right?

Oh, yeah. Yeah, yeah.

Well, let's just talk up in Newport, Pete…

'cause I don't even…

you know, I hadn't even planned anything…

-for the set yet, you know.
-Yeah. Okay.

You know, I'm sorta living
day to day these days, you know?

Sure. Yeah, it's all right.

Be careful on that thing.

Hey, Sylvie.

Hey, Sylvie!

Hey, Sylvie!

Sylvie!

What are you doin' here?

I'm going to Newport. You wanna come?

What?

I'm going to Newport. Come on.

Excuse me, you cannot park there.

There she is.

Hold on tight.

Wow.

I want you to meet someone.

Bobby D!

You're lookin' unlike yourself.
Who you runnin' with?

I'm running wild, Jesse.

Is she wild, too?

Only when the moon's full.

Kinda smells weird.

Bed's not bad.

Does this make me Bette Davis?

She ended up alone in that movie.

No, she didn't.

They got together when they were older.

Knock, knock.

Choose your weapon, General.

You got this guest thing with Joan
in a half hour.

That one.

Yes, sir.

-I'll meet you back here later?
-Why?

I'd like to catch that.

You're on right now. Let's go.

-You're running.
-All right, Albert. Hold your horses.

Come on.

Let's go, let's go. Up.
Go, go, go. Come on.

-Okay, right in there?
-Right in there.

-Okay, we're running, we're running.
-Okay, all right.

-Hey, Pete.
-Hey, amigo, how are you?

-Hi, Sylvie!
-Pete!

-I haven't seen you in a while.
-Okay.

How's it going?

It's all just jubilation through and through.

Couldn't be better.

-Hey, Bobby!
-Hello, darlin'. How are you?

Valentino-type tangos

While the makeup man's hands

Shut the eyes of the dead
Not to embarrass anyone

But farewell Angelina

The sky is changing color
And I must leave fast

The machine guns are roaring

And the puppets heave rocks

And the fiends nail time bombs
To the hands of the clocks

You okay?

Sure. Why not?

Party after.

Great.

But farewell Angelina

The sky is erupting

I must go where it's quiet

Thank you.

How about saying hello
to the man who wrote that one?

Come on out, Bobby.

I picked something appropriate.

Appropriate?

Just fuck off and sing.

Appropriate.

Go away from my window

Leave at your own chosen speed

I'm not the one you want, babe

I'm not the one you need

You say you're lookin' for someone

Never weak but always strong

To protect you and defend you

Whether you are right or wrong

Someone to open each and every door

But it ain't me, babe

No, no, no, it ain't me, babe

It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

Go lightly from the ledge, babe

Go lightly on the ground

I'm not the one you want, babe

I'll only let you down

You say you're lookin' for someone

Who'll promise never to part

Someone to close his eyes for you

Someone to close his heart

Someone who will die for you and more

But it ain't me, babe

No, no, no, it ain't me, babe

It ain't me you're lookin' for, babe

Sylvie! He's gonna ask where you are.

-Tell him I went home.
-Why?

I can't do it.

I thought I could, but…

Just stay and talk to him, all right?

He's got a lot of people to talk to…

like 100,000.

You can't take a cab
to the Village from here.

You getting in, Miss?

There's a ferry to Providence,
it leaves every other hour.

You can take a train from there,
just take a second.

Or saying, "I can't forget you"

I do not walk the floor
Bowed down and bent but yet

Mama, you been on my mind

You could play basketball
with those polka dots.

Yeah, take that shirt off, man.
You look like a goddamn clown.

Anybody here see where Sylvie went?

Hey, Bobby.

Hey, you know where Sylvie is?

She split while you were playing with Joan.

What do you mean she split?

I didn't wanna sink you, man.

Anybody home?
Hello, Albert.

-Oh, my.
-Oh, God.

She was headed for the ferry.

You probably still got time to catch her
if you head out now.

Christ, Bobby.

Bobby, can I have a word?

Can we just turn that down, please? Maybe?

Where's Pete? He's not in on this?

"In on" what, exactly?

Posse of purity.

No, we are on our own.

Sorry, I gotta go.

Bob, my friend…

All we want to know is what you're planning
on doing tomorrow, Bobby.

If you're gonna play the new songs,
that's all.

'Cause you want me playing the old ones?

All right, let's just cut the crap, Bob.
Come on.

You're gonna be playing noise like this?

This is The Kinks.

I'm supposed to introduce you.
And if you are, just let me know.

And we'll get Dick Clark to introduce…

You hear that?

You wanna get Dick Clark
to Newport Folk Festival?

I don't know if you noticed,
but there's a lot of fucking people here…

How could I not?

I'd rather have 10 faithful
than 10,000 groupies!

It was the Newport Folk Festival, then Bob…

and it still is the Newport Folk Festival.

Not the teen dream, Brill Building,
Top 40, British Invasion Festival.

A folk festival!

Do you even remember folk music, Bob?

No, Alan, what's that?

Maybe you could sing me somethin'.

Hey!

Hey, Sylvie.

Come here.

Come on.

What are you doing?

Where are you going?

I'm going home.

Why?

It was fun to be on the carnival train
with you, Bobby…

but I think I gotta step off.

I feel like one of those plates, you know…

that the French guy spins on those sticks
on The Sullivan Show.

I kinda like that guy.

I'm sure it's fun to be the guy, Bob…

but I was a plate.

Oh, Christ.

Stay. Come on.

Don't ask for the moon, we have the stars.

Sylvie.

Sylvie.

Rise, sunshine.

Oh, Christ.

Here you go. Morning.

Thought we could have a chat,
so, I brought you a cup of hot black…

and one with milk for Sylvie.

Hey.

What the fuck?

Morning, Albert.

It's 7:00 in the morning.

Fuck.

Whatever this is, Pete, maybe you could wait
another few goddamn hours.

Well, it is the last day
of our festival, Albert…

and I think people would like to know
what's coming.

So, I'm here to have a conversation
with my old friend.

Bobby, did I ever tell you my parable
of the teaspoon brigade?

The parable of the fucking what?

It's the crack of fucking dawn here!

It's a good story.

Okay.

Bob needs his rest, all right?

We all need our rest.

It's all right. Let him tell his story, Al.

-Come on, give it to me good, Pete.
-All right.

Imagine, we got a seesaw.

-Seesaw?
-Yeah.

Okay.

One end of it, it's anchored firm
to the ground…

'cause it's got a basket full of rocks on it.

The other end, it's floating up here,
way up in the air…

and wishin' it could come down…

but all it's got is a basket
that's half full of sand…

and the sand is leaking out all the time.

-Okay, now…
-Could you get me a cigarette, man?

We see this situation.

We say, well, maybe we should
do something about this.

And all we got with us is some teaspoons…

but we take 'em out and we start
putting sand up into that basket…

and it's running out
as fast as we can put it in.

There's all kinds of people.

They're looking at us and they're laughin'…

and they're sayin',
"Geez, you're wastin' your time."

But every day a few new people show up…

and they bring their spoons,
and they start pitchin' in.

-You know why?
-Why?

Because one of these days,

enough people are gonna put sand
in that basket at the same time…

that the whole damn thing just goes, zoop.

And we level things out.

Okay. Thanks, Pete. We get the story.

I don't think you do, Albert.

Bobby, Newport, we built it…

for the purpose of sharing
traditional folk music.

We started it six years ago…

and every year since then…

more and more people have been showing up,
and they're bringing their teaspoons.

Teaspoons for justice…

and teaspoons for peace
and teaspoons for love…

and that's what we do and…

Gosh, you showed up, Bobby…

and damn it, if you didn't bring a shovel.

Really.

I mean, we're all here just laboring
with our little teaspoons…

and you come and bring a shovel.

And thanks to you, we're almost there.

We're on the verge of tipping it, Bob…

and you're our closing act.

And tonight, if you could…

just get up there one more time
and use that shovel in the right way…

The right way?

You could level things out, Bob.

You know, I sent you an advance
of my new record.

Sure. Yeah, I got it.

Did you ever listen to the music
you're telling me not to play?

I can see the direction you're goin' in.

I could see it on the last record.

You know, it's not…

No, don't take it that way.

Bobby, you write great songs
that are leadin' to change…

-and we're a folk festival.
-Nothing's changin', Pete.

-Why is this controversial?
-Nothing's changing.

Nothing's changing.
What, not at all.

Kennedy's dead. They just shot Malcolm X.

Well, isn't that all the more reason.

You know, there's more to sing about
than justice, Pete.

There's more than one way to play a song.

You ever just take a second and think
that maybe it's more fun…

to be in a fucking band, man?

You don't understand, Bobby, they just want
me singing Blowin' in the Wind all alone…

for the rest of my goddamn life.

All we're talkin' about is tonight.

He's scared of your music, Bob.

-Nobody's scared of anybody's music.
-You are.

You're scared that the kids out on that lawn
might like it.

And why would I be afraid of that?

Because you're pushing candles
and he's selling light bulbs.

Albert, there's only one of us who's
focused on how much we're selling…

and it ain't me.

Hey, Bobby, Bobby…

Christ, man. Shit.

Am I blocking you in, pal?

Hey, JR.

Johnny, it's me. It's Bobby.

Hey! Shit, Bobby.

Yeah!

Thought you left town already.

Well, we loaded out last night.

June left for New York with her mama.

Pete asked me to stay for the finale today,
you know…

and I couldn't sleep.

Just took a drive.

Saw the ocean.

Okay.

-This yours?
-Yeah.

-Hey, man, you got a cigarette?
-Yeah.

Thanks.

Let me get outta your way.

A guy I knew in the Air Force had a Triumph.

Gotta prime it up!

Shit.

Good. Good.

Whoops.

-Want a Bugle?
-Nah.

You playing tonight?

Yeah, that's what the program says…

but I'm not sure they wanna hear
what I wanna play, Johnny.

Who's they?

You know…

the men who decide what folk music is.

Well, fuck them.

I wanna hear it.

Make some noise, BD.

Track some mud on the carpet.

It's getting nuts out there.

Three songs, get out. Thank you, good night.

Electric or acoustic?

How crazy is it gonna be tonight, Bob?

Pretty crazy. Come check it out.

It's sold out. We can't hear it.

I'll sing louder.

-Old hammer
-Let your hammer ring

-Won't you ring old hammer?
-Let your hammer ring

So? How are we?

I think he understands.

Let your hammer ring…

Let your hammer ring

Broke the handle on my hammer

Let your hammer ring

-Hey, man. How you doin'?
-Hey, man. How's it goin'?

Let your hammer ring

Got to hammerin' in the Bible

Let your hammer ring

Won't you ring old hammer

Let your hammer ring

Won't you ring old hammer

Pete thinks we're gonna be okay. All right?

Won't you ring old hammer?

Let your hammer ring

We want Bob!

Bob! Bob! Bob!

Let's hear it for the Texas Work Song group
all the way from Abilene, Texas!

All right, hold on.
Now that was music!

-Bob!
-We love you!

Bob! We love you, Bob!

We have one more act now.

We love you, Bob!

All right, okay.

We want Bob!

I don't even need to say his name, do I?

Fine, you want him, you can have him.
Bob Dylan.

Ready?

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

What the hell is this?

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

No! This is all wrong!

Well, I wake up in the morning
Fold my hands and pray for rain

I got a head full of ideas

That are drivin' me insane

What are you doing?

It's a shame the way
she makes me scrub the floor

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

Come on, Bob! This is Newport!

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

They don't need us promotin' this shit!

Drop a dime in any fucking jukebox!

When's the last time you saw a jukebox, Al?

Tell 'em to turn the fucking sound down!

Sounds perfect to me.

Fuck this.

-Where are you going?
-To fix it.

Alan!

"Sing while you slave"
And I just get bored

It's too loud!

I ain't gonna work on Maggie's farm no more

Oh, no!

-Turn it down!
-What?

Turn the fucking music down!

-Hey, calm down.
-No, no.

-You work for us!
-Hey!

Lomax!

Just like we set it this afternoon,
all right? Nobody touches the board.

Now, hold it!

-What the hell's going on?
-Just ignore it.

Sorry, Odetta. Sorry.

Get off the stage!

Keep playing.

Tambourine Man!

Come on! What the fuck is this? Bullshit!

Damn.

Well, I ride on a mail train, baby

Can't buy a thrill

It's enough, enough.

Well, I've been up all night, babe

Leanin' on the window sill

Well, if I don't die on top of the hill

Why haven't they turned it down?

-'Cause it sounds fucking great, man.
-Quiet, Bobby.

You tell them it is an order
from the festival board.

-Fuck the board!
-You're on the board, you fucking moron!

-You're not gonna be on the board for long!
-Would you stop…

-You're not gonna be on the board any longer!
-This is not a playground! Stop it!

This is chaos. You've got to turn it down.

I can't do that.

I know you know who I am, son.

-Now let me at that board.
-No.

Get off, man!

Jesus Christ, man.

No! Get back! Open your fucking ears, man!

Pete!

All right, all right.

Boo! Come on!

Judas!

You're Judas!

Sit down!

I don't believe you.

Play it loud.

Once upon a time you dressed so fine

Threw the bums a dime in your prime

Didn't you?

People call say "Beware doll
You're bound to fall"

You thought they were all kiddin' you

You used to laugh about

Everybody that was hanging out

Now you don't talk so loud

This is a folk festival!

Now you don't seem so proud

About having to be scrounging around

For your next meal

How does it feel?

Yeah! Play it, man!

How does it feel?

To be on your own

Play it!

With no direction home

Like a complete unknown

Like a rolling stone

Let's get the fuck out of here.

Oh, shit.

God damn.

Bobby, you broke it down and blew my mind!
Fuck!

Are you okay?

-Did you get hit? Are you okay?
-Nah.

Bobby was… All right.

Okay. Listen.

He was only scheduled
for three songs and…

Maybe you wanna go back out there,
and let out a little steam?

The hell you talking about?
Why would I wanna do that, Albert?

To end the show.

We just ended the show, man. It's done.

Let's go. Pack up.

That crowd is not gonna let up, okay?
We need a finale, Bob.

You know what they want. Please!

Bob has left the stage.

Okay. Please.

Go get 'em, killer.

You know what? He's coming. Bob Dylan.

Tambourine Man!

You must leave now, take what you need
You think will last

But whatever you wish to keep
You better grab it fast

Yonder stands your orphan with his gun

Well, we gotta try. We gotta try, yeah?

We gotta get everyone out there
and we'll pull this back together.

Together is done, Pete.
Your boy just tore it down.

Look out, the saints are comin' through

And it's all over now, Baby Blue

How fast can we get him out of here?

Like he was never here.

Leave your stepping stones behind
If something calls for you

Not that fast.

Forget the dead you left
They will not follow you

The vagabond who's rapping at your door

Is standing in the clothes that you once wore

Strike another match, go start anew

And it's all over now, Baby Blue

All right.

Here you go.

Thanks, Johnny.

Got what they wanted.

Bob.

-Bob!
-Gig's over, Toshi.

Go, go.

Hey, Pete. Great show.

All right, Pete!

-Where is he?
-I'm sorry, Pete.

-No. Where is he?
-He's right in there.

It's okay.

Hi, Maria.

-I loved the show. I thought it was great.
-Oh, good. It was a good ending.

-You feel good?
-Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hi, Jesse.

-Hey, beautiful show.
-Thanks for being there.

Let go of it, Bobby. You won.

What did I win, Joan?

Freedom. From all of us and our shit.

Isn't that what you wanted?

See you soon, Joan.

I've sung this song, but I'll sing it again

Of the people I've met
And the places I've been

Some of the troubles that bothered my mind

And a lotta good people that I've left behind

Singing so long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

-This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home
-Dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home

-And I've got to be driftin' along
-And I've got to be driftin' along

A dust storm hit and it hit like thunder

It dusted us over and it covered us under

Blocked out the traffic
And blocked out the sun

Straight for home all the people did run

Singing so long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home

And I've got to be driftin' along

We'd talk of the end of the world, and then

We'd sing a song and then sing it again

We'd sit for an hour and not say a word

And then these words would be heard

Singing so long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home

And I've got to be driftin' along

So long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

So long, it's been good to know ya

This dusty old dust is a-gettin' my home

And I've got to be driftin' along