The Gut Punch of Being a Nobody (and Doing It Anyway)

Thursday Review: A Complete Unknown

The new Bob Dylan movie, "A Complete Unknown," struck a deep chord with me. As someone currently embarking on a journey as an author, speaker, and songwriter, I can relate profoundly to Dylan’s story of being a complete unknown. At this moment, that’s exactly what I am—an unknown.

The film captures Dylan’s arrival in New York City with little more than a backpack, his guitar, and a heart full of music. He didn’t have money or many possessions, but he carried everything he truly needed: determination, self-awareness, and an unwavering love for music. Early in the film, Dylan learns that Woody Guthrie, a musician he admires, is in the hospital. Determined to sing a song he’s written for Guthrie, Dylan walks down the hospital hall, unsure of what awaits.

In the scene, you can hear every sound as he walks down the empty hospital corridor. The lights are low, the janitor is cleaning, and he doesn’t know where to go. He hesitates. This moment—the fear, the unknown—it’s palpable. It’s scary, it’s awkward, it’s the "this is embarrassing, this is humiliating, my ego is on the floor" moment. Dylan hesitates; he even backs up. We can feel the awkwardness with him. And then, a lifeline—he hears music. That sound guides him forward.

I’ve been there—except without the lifeline. Embarrassingly stepping up on stage after an event, calling out to Liz Gilbert—terrified, my throat in my stomach—feeling all the same feels. That mix of fear, awkwardness, and vulnerability is universal.

Sharing your heart, your art, your story—it’s a journey like no other. It’s pounding the pavement, making awkward cold calls, and putting yourself out there on social media over and over again. It’s hard. It’s awkward. And it’s all in the name of answering the call—the call of "I just must do this." There’s a pull that can’t be ignored, even when fear and self-doubt are constant companions.

I was absolutely terrified. Unlike Dylan’s encounter, it didn’t lead to an open door or an invitation to connect further—no Pete Seeger moment for me. But I’ll never forget that mix of fear and determination. I, too, know what it feels like to believe you have something special to offer—to feel the magic within you—and to hope for an invitation or a chance to prove it to someone you admire.

Another scene that struck me was Dylan’s refusal to play his old music on stage. He insisted on staying true to himself and his inner knowing. It’s a powerful reminder to anyone on a creative journey: At what point do we start compromising to give people what they want, rather than offering what we genuinely have to share? Dylan’s commitment to his authenticity is inspiring.

This film is a must-see, not just for the incredible music but for the raw and relatable journey it portrays. I’m so glad I got to experience it in IMAX. Here’s to the journey—and to being, for now, a complete unknown.