Review

Culture

11 December 2023

5 min read

The spiritual depths of the genius

Moved by his songbook and his funeral, Belle Tindall considers the source, and sacrifice, of Shane MacGowan’s genius.

Belle Tindall

Belle is the staff writer at Seen & Unseen and co-host of its Re-enchanting podcast.

Upon his draped coffin, a picture of Shane MacGowan and a crucifix sit

Celebrating the life of Shane MacGowan at his funeral mass.

RTE.

Have you ever seen a Catholic priest hold up a Buddha during a Mass? Or a crowd applaud and cheer after a reading from the book of Micah? Or Nick Cave miss his cue by half an hour?

No?

Then I suppose you’ve yet to see the footage of Shane MacGowan’s funeral.

On a cold December afternoon - in a Tipperary church which was full to bursting – family, friends and fans gathered to (in the words of the presiding priest) "hold, help and handle the loss of the great Shane MacGowan… to celebrate his song, his story, his lyric, his living." I watched the footage because I had heard rumours of dancing in the aisles, renditions of The Pogues’ songs on the streets, bible readings by Bono and prayers led by Jonny Depp. And I can confirm, the rumours were all true.

People really did climb out of their pews to dance around Shane’s coffin to ‘Fairytale of New York’, a song which has just lost its maestro. Fans really did line the streets of Dublin to greet Shane’s body with raised glasses of Guinness and renditions of his most-loved songs. What’s more, Bono really did read the bible and Jonny Depp really did pray for ‘a deeper spirit of compassion in our world’. In fact, far more interesting (but far less documented) than the presence of Jonny Depp, was the presence of Shane’s raw and gritty Christian faith, which was so obvious throughout. It wasn’t just cultural Christianity on display here, it was far deeper than that. But alas, I’m getting ahead of myself - I’ll get back to that in a moment.

There was defiant joy, immense grief, loud laughter and silent sobs. There was lament and there was celebration, there was bitter and there was sweet, there was light and there was darkness. It was raw and messy and awkward and authentic and, in every way possible, profound. I suppose you could suggest that it was a lot like Shane in that way.

Indeed, this was no ordinary funeral.

Nick Cave performed a rendition of ‘Rainy Night in Soho’, which has only cemented my opinion that it is the most romantic song ever written (we can argue about it later). And then there was the eulogy, given by the person that I like to think inspired the song that Nick had just performed: Victoria Mary Clarke, the woman who has loved, and been loved by, Shane MacGowan since she was twenty years old. And while it was the star-studded eccentricities that enticed me to watch the funeral, it is Victoria’s eulogy that has plagued me ever since. She delivered it with an eloquence befitting of a poet’s soulmate and the composure of someone who has been preparing to eulogise the man she loved her entire life.

Victoria understood MacGowan completely, and through her words, she has helped us to understand him too. She told us how –

"He wasn’t interested in living a normal life, he didn’t want a 9-5 or a mortgage or any of that stuff, he liked to explore all aspects of consciousness. He liked to explore where you could go with your mind…. He chose many, many, many mind-altering substances to help him on that journey of exploration. He really did live so close to edge that he seemed like he was going to fall off many times…"

And I suppose therein lies the source, and sacrifice, of his genius. He was incredibly introspective, almost scarily so. It reminds me of another songwriter – a biblical one – King David, who once wrote:

‘Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.’

I’m wondering if Shane made similar requests of God, whether anyone would have the boldness to pray this line with as much literality as someone who was fascinated by ‘all aspects of consciousness’. Perhaps such introspective depths are reserved for the geniuses that are brave enough to ask God to take them there. And that got me thinking about other such geniuses - some of them present in that very church - who have plunged the depths of themselves and gifted us with the spoils through their art, those who follow their romantic longing’s lead, those who have an eye for the unseen. I can’t claim to fully understand it, but how interesting that those who live as ‘close to the edge’ as Shane did tend to either bump into oblivion (Kurt Cobain, Nick Drake, Ian Curtis) or God. Or, as in the case of Shane MacGowan, both.

The reason I could never write a song like ‘Rainy Night in Soho’, is that Shane boldly went where I doubt I ever could - to the costly depths reserved for the brilliant.

At one point, MacGowan was taking one hundred acid tabs a day, and Victoria recounted (with a hint of a giggle – her adoration of him utterly tangible) how, in the early days of their relationship, Shane carried an encyclopaedia of pharmacology around with him. This was so that he could look up each drug he was being offered before accepting it. I suppose to an explorer of consciousness, this encyclopaedia is as close to a compass as it gets. And so yes, there was darkness there. Deep and dangerous darkness. But Victoria wanted us to know that –

"He didn’t just like to go to the dark places and the weird places, he also liked to go to the blissful and transcendent and spiritual places… he was intensely religious."

She evidenced this with a story drawn from the last months of his life, all of which were spent in hospital, when a priest had to confiscate Holy Communion from Shane – who had obtained it ‘illegally’ and taken it daily. You see, in the Catholic Church, Holy Communion has to be administered by a priest under specific circumstances. And so, Shane became, perhaps, ‘the only man in the world who’s been busted for Holy Communion’. But nevertheless, whenever he came to the end of himself, Shane found God. And while he held the pluralistic belief that no religion had a monopoly on God (hence the afore mentioned reference to the Priest displaying a Buddha), he was utterly devoted to Jesus.

"I think what he was trying to get across was that there’s something in this stuff’ explained Victoria, ‘there’s something in Jesus that’s worth thinking about. It’s worth valuing. It’s worth exploring that Jesus is real."

I didn’t know this about Shane MacGowan; how actively he sought God, how deeply he enjoyed Jesus. But it makes complete sense. If one goes looking in the deepest places, they’re likely to find the deepest thing. Roam around the truest place, and eventually you’ll bump into the truest thing.

I, like Shane, believe that to be God.

I suppose the difference, and the reason I could never write a song like ‘Rainy Night in Soho’, is that Shane boldly went where I doubt I ever could - to the costly depths reserved for the brilliant. Instead, I shall simply ponder how beautiful it is that God waits for the brilliant to notice him, even in those depths.

Review

Culture

Film & TV

Music

16 January 2025

5 min read

A complete unknown: the enigma of Bob Dylan

Chalamet commands but this biopic denies the audience its aha moment.

Krish Kandiah

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

A hunched man wearing dark glasses and a dark suit, walks down a New York Street at night, with his hands in his pockets.

Searchlight Pictures.

Crafting a biopic about Bob Dylan is no easy task. Known for his reclusive nature, Dylan has long avoided public introspection, rarely granting interviews and keeping a tight grip on his privacy. Enter A Complete Unknown, a film whose title is cleverly lifted from the iconic lyric from Dylan’s legendary song, 'Like a Rolling Stone'. For many, Dylan remains a complete unknown beyond his music. This film takes on the daunting challenge of unravelling, or at least presenting, Dylan’s story for a new generation.

For Generation Z, Dylan’s genius is perhaps a distant echo, so casting Timothée Chalamet—a Gen Z cultural icon—as the main role is a masterstroke. Known for his standout roles in Dune and Wonka, Chalamet commands the attention of younger audiences, making Dylan’s story accessible and intriguing to a demographic otherwise unfamiliar with the folk legend.

Chalamet’s dedication to the role is impressive. During the extended production, delayed by COVID, he taught himself to play the guitar, harmonica, and sing live. His performance is more than an imitation - it’s a striking incarnation of Dylan’s enigmatic persona. Through Chalamet, the audience is transported to a pivotal chapter of Dylan’s life, a time that would see a seismic shift in music history.

From folk icon to electric rebel

This transformative moment in Dylan’s career is drawn from the book Bob Dylan Goes Electric. Much like Titanic or Finding Nemo where the climax is inevitable from the outset, the audience is well aware of what is coming: Dylan’s controversial decision to “go electric.”

We begin by meeting Dylan as a young folk singer, heavily influenced by legends like Woody Guthrie and Pete Seeger. Arriving in New York as an ambitious teenager, he’s welcomed and mentored by the folk music community. These relationships form the foundation of his early career, but they also set the stage for heartbreak.

The climax unfolds at the Newport Folk Festival, where Dylan debuts an electric set, shattering the expectations of his folk audience. Fans and mentors alike react with outrage—booing, throwing objects, and accusing Dylan of betraying the authenticity of true folk music. By the film’s end, Dylan, despite his eventual electrifying musical success, is no more popular – he has burned nearly every bridge, leaving a trail of fractured relationships.

True to its title, A Complete Unknown offers no answers. Dylan’s motives remain elusive, and the audience is left with more questions than insights. It’s a daring narrative choice—presenting a guarded character who remains enigmatic to the end. There’s no traditional character arc, no emotional revelation, no intimate a-ha moment. The film respects Dylan’s mystique but denies the audience the catharsis they might expect from a biopic.
Other biopic producers seem to be following suit. In efforts not to be formulaic they are choosing a more lackadaisical approach to audience expectations. In the upcoming Better Man which retells Robbie William’s life story, the singer is presented as a CGI ape. Pharell Williams’ life story is being retold through LEGO. If James Mangold, the director, who also co-wrote the screenplay with Jay Cocks was deliberately trying to subvert the genre, it seems he may have succeeded.

From musical genius to mass appeal

Despite its underwhelming emotional denouement, the film does leave viewers marveling at Dylan’s genius. By the age of 24, he had already written and performed some of the most iconic songs of the twentieth century including 'Blowin’ in the Wind' (1962), 'The Times They Are A-Changin’ (1964) and 'A Hard Rain’s A-Gonna Fall' (1962). Chalamet’s performance breathes life into Dylan’s music, and it’s nearly impossible to leave the theatre without humming a familiar tune.

Around that time Dylan was also involved in the civil rights movement. He played at the historic March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom on August 28th 1963, where Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his iconic “I Have a Dream” speech. He performed at the huge rally on the National Mall between the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial and his presence there alongside other prominent figures helped inspire more musicians and artists to join the struggle for racial equality. But this vital contribution is given only a few seconds of screen time and Dylan shows no other interest in justice or equality in the film. He only interacts minimally with black characters – once to mock a black girlfriend and the other to humiliate a black musician. No explanation is given.

Dylan’s work undeniably speaks to the human experience, particularly through its reflections on social change, struggle, and hope, yet his actions and interactions seem to conflict with that message. The film therefore creates a dissonance that’s difficult to reconcile. It raises the question of whether we can, or should, separate the artist from the art—or if, in doing so, we undermine the very message they champion through their work.

From faith to legacy

The biopic story predates two significant conversions—Dylan’s eventual embrace of Christianity and Johnny Cash’s spiritual awakening. Both men would go on to explore faith in profound ways that would intertwine with one another, influencing both their lives and their music. Dylan’s conversion was famously sparked by an audience member throwing a crucifix onto the stage—a moment not yet reached in this film’s timeline. Johnny Cash’s role in Dylan’s life is mentioned but not unpacked. These threads add an intriguing layer of foreshadowing, leaving room for reflection on how faith would later influence their lives. A fascinating follow up would be to explore this relationship – for now the film only hints that perhaps the loneliness and longing for fulfilment behind the success would spark not only their friendship but also a transformative faith.

Leaving the cinema, I found myself caught between admiration and frustration. Dylan’s genius is undeniable—his songs remain timeless, his influence immeasurable. Yet, his emotional distance and self-absorption left me unsettled. Perhaps that’s the point. Genius, as we often discover, does not always equate to warmth or relatability. Dylan’s musical brilliance is his gift, but his guarded nature remains his curse. His songs preach peace, but he was a man in conflict with himself and with others. In the end, Dylan is presented as a complete unknown, a man who defies understanding, a riddle that continues to captivate and confound, an enigma in need of some salvation.

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