The shadow kingdom is the realm of Hades, god of the dead, whose name became attached to the residence the ancient Greeks postulated for the departed. Because of their insubstantial nature, the subjects of Hades were called shades or shadows (skiai).
In keeping with the theme, director Alma Har'el drapes Bob Dylan's 50-minute "Shadow Kingdom" webcast in luxurious grays. At age 80, Dylan imagines a metaphorical afterlife that's not grim, but the pace is slow. It's a spare 1940 nightclub where coiffed women stare, quiet men smoke beneath fedoras, and a good band plays the blues. The bandleader is Dylan.
Born in 1941, Dylan now looks back on the early stages of a six-decade career. Picking nearly all the compositions from the years 1965 to 1973, he focuses on his musical birth -- the moment when he forged his own sound, broke out of the creative womb and emerged into mass consciousness.
The songs came fast then, and Dylan didn't have time to think about what they meant. They meant many things, but now, through the considered, murmuring voice of perspective, he sorts out his first premonitions of a final crossing.
"When I Paint My Masterpiece." Someday everything's gonna be different.
"Most Likely You Go Your Way and I'll Go Mine." Time will tell who fell and who's been left behind.
"Queen Jane Approximately." You're tired of yourself and all of your creations.
"I'll Be Your Baby Tonight." Your baby. Do not fear.
"Just Like Tom Thumb's Blues." I don't have the strength to get up and take another shot.
"Tombstone Blues." Cease the pain of your useless and senseless knowledge.
"To Be Alone With You." I wish the night was here. I'd fall into your arms. Collecting my thoughts. Stepping out into space. My mortal bliss. (A 1969 song rewritten.)
"What Was It You Wanted." Is there somebody waiting? (1989)
"Forever Young." May your song always be sung.
"Pledging My Time." I can't be the last to leave.
"Wicked Messenger." The leaves began to falling.
"Watching the River Flow." People disappearing everywhere you look.
"It's All Over Now, Baby Blue." The saints are coming through.
"All Along the Watchtower" plays sans voice as the final credits roll. We can sing our own "There must be some way out of here."
Wearing black plague masks, Dylan's band succeed in stepping outside of time into a zone of pure folk blues. No drums, just the guitars, mandolin, accordion and bass of Alex Burke, Janie Cowen, Joshua Crumbly, Shahzad Ismaily and Buck Meek, with Cowen making a visual impression via her Lady Godiva hair behind a standup bass.
Dylan speeds things up at times, but mostly, long past his amphetamine days, he slows down, even to a near coma, so we can digest the words. In the '60s he was lashing out; now he articulates the same lyrics with a reflective vulnerability that echoes his wobbly sway at the microphone. Thanks for the lesson in experience.
And for the humor. The costumes, the cartoonish barflies, the exaggerated dramatics, the streamers fluttering from the air conditioner, all make a viewer smile. And is this all about Dylan? Maybe we think so until a guitarist steps in front of him and fills the whole frame with a close-up on a Telecaster, a vertical cigarette stuck in the strings of its stock. Time for the guitar solo. And the Tele was Robbie Robertson's instrument.
This is art, 360 degrees of it.
* * *
Contrary to previous advertisement, "Shadow Kingdom" is still watchable here, but probably not for long.
LATER NOTE: "Shadow Kingdom" is now easily accessible on YouTube.