I’ve seen Martin Scorsese‘s No Direction Home: Bob Dylan three times now — once at the ’05 Toronto Film Festival, twice on DVD. Why is it, then, that I’m seriously contemplating going to see it again as the final showing in the Aero’s “Mods & Rockers” series on Sunday night (8.27)? I’ve thought it over, and all I can figure is that it feels immensely cool to soak in the specialness of that early-to-mid ’60s Dylan thing, which isn’t “better” than the bolt around the current Dylan album or the late ’90s incarnation or the one that happened in the mid ’70s when he sang “Hurricane.” I only know that the ghost of electricity howled in the bones of her face only once, and then it very gradually faded over time.
