Why James Mangold needed an actress who could ‘hold her own’ to play Joan Baez (exclusive)

Memories may bring diamonds and rust, but what about a biopic?

For legendary folk singer Joan Baez, A Complete Unknown should, at the least, bring her a sense of pride. Portrayed by Monica Barbaro in the forthcoming Bob Dylan biopic, Baez is presented as not only a formidable talent and equal to Dylan but as a pivotal figure in his rise to success amidst their professional and romantic partnership.

“She [boosted] his career in an absolutely massive way that catapulted him into the fame that he acquired,” Barbaro tells Entertainment Weekly. “He was an unmistakable genius lyricist, and he was writing music that people wanted at that time. So, I do think that it was going to happen for him. But she definitely was a very pivotal part in positioning him in front of her fans and making them listen to him. Would he still be Bob Dylan today? Probably. But was his tie-in with her something that completely changed the trajectory of his life and his career? A hundred percent.”

“It’s undeniable that he was turning a lot of heads at that time, and he was a very special music writer,” she adds. “But I think he owes her a lot.”

A Complete Unknown, in theaters Christmas Day, tells the story of a young Bob Dylan (Timothee Chalamet) when he first comes to Greenwich Village, NYC, and begins to make a name for himself in the folk scene. The film chronicles his formative early relationship with Pete Seeger (Edward Norton), as well as romances with both Baez and Sylvie Russo (Elle Fanning).  

“Bob is the center of the movie, and all the other characters intersect, crisscross, and cross-pollinate,” writer-director James Mangold says. “But what unites them all is their relationship to Bob. A journey in a movie is sometimes not simply about do you fall in love and stay together forever, but much more — how have you affected each other for the rest of your lives? All of these characters have an absolutely tremendous effect on each other at this moment. Each of them are talents blossoming in this turbulent moment in the country and rising together to stardom.” 

Still, it can’t be denied that Baez helped accelerate Dylan’s rise. In 1963, she invited him on stage with her at the Newport Folk Festival, introducing him to her audience. “She recognized what an incredible writer he was,” Mangold adds. “That’s a source of tension as well as a compliment — to the degree that he’s generating all this music and others want to play it, and suddenly he feels like he has to decide whether to give you a song or not give you a song. Those are interesting dynamics to put in the middle of a romantic relationship.”

For Mangold’s part, their dynamic in his film wasn’t so much about revealing Baez as this instrumental figure in Dylan’s career, but about examining how our relationships shape our artistry — and the role that a sense of community plays in success. “They were both going to be huge,” notes the director. “They each, in and of themselves, have this tiger by the tail artistically. They each have their talent, and it isn’t because of the other. But how they affect, negotiate, handle, and manhandle each other is really interesting. There are big egos and strong personalities.”

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With both young wunderkinds going toe-to-toe, Mangold knew he had to find an actress who could bring strength to every scene. “Joan came up as almost a teenager in the folk scene,” he explains. “I wanted someone who could intimidate Bob and could also hold her own with him. Because he’s a formidable character himself. Monica has got tremendous gravity and maturity. So, she can occupy the space with Timmy and play the scenes where she’s not like everyone else [in Dylan’s life], who is just on the ride with Bob. She’s on her own ride and they’re crisscrossing when it suits them. That power was so much of what I thought Monica, from the moment I first saw her read for the movie, represented.”

Mangold is fascinated by the equalizing nature of their talent and the way that Dylan and Baez seemed to balance each other in this early part of their careers. “One of the really unique aspects about their relationship was the level where they’re both huge artists within their world,” he says. “Their relationship is, therefore, different than any other because it’s two equals approaching each other.  Joan has this incredible nightingale voice, and Bob is more of a blues man, a scratchy, craggy mumbler. But then Bob is an incredible songwriter, and Joan was mostly performing other people’s songs. So they’re each stars within their world, but they’re each good at different things. They’re both savagely talented artists — and that isn’t always true with a couple.”

While Barbaro may have the gravity to share the screen with Chalamet’s Dylan, she did not come on to the project feeling particularly comfortable about singing for an audience or playing the guitar (however, like Baez, she did play the ukulele prior to learning other instruments). “I would sing only when I was very much alone,” Barbaro notes. “So, I would sing a lot, but I was not comfortable doing it in front of anybody and not comfortable with any training level that I had. I did not play guitar. I could tinker around on the ukulele, and that was about it. It was a real overhaul of my life for a minute there to learn.”

That actually made it easier for Barbaro to connect to Baez as a person. Barbaro spoke with the folk legend in preparation for the film, and she was struck by a detail Baez shared about teaching herself to play guitar. “She said that she would essentially fall asleep with her guitar in her bed after playing all night, and then she’d wake up in the morning and keep playing,” Barbaro recounts. “I had done that. So, there was a bit of a connection there that eased some of my fears.”

Still, Barbaro had to work hard to overcome her admiration for Baez and the artist’s accomplishments. “I felt so in awe of her and still do,” she gushes. “And I have so much respect for her. Sometimes, that can get in the way of playing a real three-dimensional person.”

“It was a brief conversation, and I was wildly intimidated to speak with her,” Barbaro continues. “But after speaking with her, I was able to let go of the idea that I could ever be her. The pressure I felt I was under to try to get her exactly right dissipated. I was like, ‘Oh, here I am speaking with this real person who did these real things.’ I don’t have to try to accomplish the impossible. I’ll never sound exactly like her. I’ll never look exactly like her. I’ll never be her. But what of her essence and what of her in this story is most important for me to try to embrace and capture as her?”

Barbaro cites Baez’s extreme honesty and refusal to search for perfection in art as things that helped her connect to the artist and let go of the pressure she was putting on herself.  “She’s very honest about herself,” the actress says. “She doesn’t try to make herself sound better than she believes she is. She’s quite honest about how she felt about Bob and the complicated feelings about them, the fame, and the music. She doesn’t hold back with anyone, including herself. So, I never felt like anything was being hidden from me.”

“She speaks about how in any art, if you’re trying to get something too perfect, you rob it of its life and its artistry,” she continues. “I took that on and allowed myself a little bit of ease in the pursuit of perfection. No one’s perfect, and she wasn’t a perfect being; she certainly doesn’t see herself that way. Trying to let go of that expectation helped.”

Another thing that helped? Reminding herself that this iteration of the story belongs to Dylan at the end of the day. Barbaro mentions Elvis and Priscilla and the dichotomy between the two disparate points of view in those films as a touchstone for her as she built her version of Baez. “You’re talking about the same people with entirely different perspectives and stories,” she adds. “They’re not even opposing each other; they’re just telling their own story.”

For Mangold, the story, particularly Dylan’s love triangle with Joan and Sylvie, was about tapping into something more unsullied — the pureness of inspiration before the corruption of fame. “There’s an innocence and a beauty to the friendships and the relationships between all of them,” he reflects. “They’re all connecting through music, through what they do at a point when they’re all becoming what they’re going to become and not at all aware that they are icons or legends. These are just real people in their twenties figuring out their lives and their art and cross-pollinating each other.”

And at the end of the day, with all their regrets and recriminations, as they find their voices and their power, they’re all asking one central question — how does it feel to be without a home, like a rolling stone?