Bob Dylan’s ‘Trouble No More’ Captures Singer’s Come To Jesus Moment

Since Robert Allen Zimmerman of Duluth, Minnesota, moved to the Big Apple in the early ’60s and rebranded himself Bob Dylan he has been called many things. Folkie. Genius. The voice of a generation. “The authentic expression of the disturbed and concerned conscience of Young America” (according to his autobiography, this was upon receiving an honorary degree from Princeton University). Even Judas, after “going electric” in 1965. To me, Dylan has always been more trickster than prophet, Loki with a Stratocaster. Like The Great Oz, he’s the Midwestern carny behind the smoke bombs and megaphone.

Despite winning Grammys, an Oscar, and even a Nobel Prize, accolades have never sat particularly well on Dylan’s curly-haired crown. To keep people guessing, or perhaps just to amuse himself, and probably a bit of both, he has made a habit or undermining the expectations of his adoring press and fan base, whether it be by exploring different genres, changing his singing style for a record or two or presenting his most popular songs in almost unrecognizable arrangements.

Among Dylanphiles, his conversion to evangelical Christianity in the late ’70s and the albums he recorded in its immediate aftermath have always been hotly contested. The period was revisited last year on the archival release The Bootleg Series Vol. 13: Trouble No More 1979–1981. Included in the deluxe 9-CD version of the release was a DVD titled Trouble No More: A Musical Film, featuring live performances from the era intercut with newly filmed segments, with Michael Shannon portraying an evangelical pastor delivering sermons penned by the writer Luc Sante. The film made its broadcast premiere on Cinemax last week and is currently available on its streaming services.

Still smarting from the end of his 12-year marriage to Sara Lownds, with whom he had four children, Dylan was rudderless in the late ’70s. His mixed documentary-drama Renaldo and Clara opened in January 1978 to poor reviews and in order to pay off various debts he embarked on a 114-date world tour, stretching from February of that year through to the following December. Though he was raised Jewish, Dylan turned to Christianity after getting burnt out on the road and allegedly having a vision of Jesus Christ in a Tucson, Arizona, hotel room. 1979’s Slow Train Coming put his newfound faith on full display and was the first of three albums that dealt exclusively on Christian themes of faith, sin and religious servitude.

Judging from the concert footage, and based purely on musical grounds, Christ did Dylan good. His crack band of bearded badly dressed Dad rockers kill it throughout and include legendary session drummer Jim Keltner, Southern soul veteran Spooner Oldham on keyboards, blazing blues rock guitarist Fred Tackett, and bassist Tim Drummond, perhaps the only musician to have played with both Neil Young and James Brown. But most impressive may be Dylan himself. Never anyone’s idea of a “great” singer – his voice is high-pitched and nasally and his phrasing is comically weird at times – Bob seems to have genuinely caught the spirit, singing powerfully, passionately and in tune. The contrast between his own reedy voice and the beautiful sounds emanating from his bevy of backup singers is a divine pairing.

The filmed segments are more problematic. While Michael Shannon has made a career out of playing uncomfortably intense characters, his portrayal as “The Preacher” seems like a caricature, as he utters Bible thumping clichés like, “You can not hide from God. Your sins will find you out.” The sermons are supposed to reflect the themes of the songs themselves, I think, but diatribes against fast food, alcohol and the hypocrisy of “highly respectable types who dress conservatively” seem like a fetishized ideal of what a fundamentalist preacher should be saying. Occasionally they hit the mark, and Shannon holds your attention throughout, but in the end they feel forced and distract from the music.

It’s ironic that Bob Dylan’s fans were so reluctant to embrace his turn towards Christianity given his habit of singing about spiritual matters, morality and the wages of sin going back to his earliest recordings. But it didn’t matter. In a few years he had moved on, making his return to secular music seemingly explicit by naming his 1983 album Infidels. I’m not sure Trouble No More will appeal to many besides the Dylan faithful, and it’s certainly nowhere near as satisfying a viewing experience as 1967’s Dont Look Back or Martin Scorsese’s No Direction Home, but it is an interesting snapshot of the artist at a pivotal point in his life, not content to rest on his laurels, but still looking for a new avenues of inspiration. One thing about Dylan, he likes to keep you guessing.

Benjamin H. Smith is a New York based writer, producer and musician. Follow him on Twitter:@BHSmithNYC.

Watch Trouble No More on Cinemax Go