A montagem acima, eu extraí de um filmezinho logo no começo do artigo. A cena é extraída de um documentário sobre Bob Dylan, lá de 1966. O diálogo da cena é surreal, e requer uma explicação dos antecedentes, que o articulista fornece em detalhes.
Agora deixo o artigo com vocês. Transcrevi pois não tenho o direito de mandar o link
Eu apenas destaquei em
negrito itálico centrado vermelho grande
os trechos cruciais do evento!
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On the night of May 26, 1966, the Beatles entered EMI Studios on Abbey Road to work on their most ambitious album yet, “Revolver.” Three miles away, their friend Bob Dylan stepped onto the stage of the Royal Albert Hall.
Blade-thin, on the verge of exhaustion, Dylan, 25, was nearing the end of a grueling world tour, his first with a band, during which he’d been the target of frequent boos and occasional death threats. Many fans felt betrayed by this new Dylan, a wild-haired character with an electric guitar who wouldn’t play his old protest songs. On this night in London, he and his fellow musicians received “the harshest reaction yet,” according to the guitarist Robbie Robertson.
Around 1 a.m., John Lennon, 25, made his way from Abbey Road to the May Fair Hotel. That was where Dylan was staying with his band and a documentary film crew that was tracking him, onstage and off.
Lennon and his fellow Beatles had spent a lot of time at Dylan’s suite in recent weeks. They avoided the film crew as they smoked pot with their host and listened to tracks from “Revolver” and Dylan’s soon-to-be-released album, “Blonde on Blonde.” On this night at the May Fair, however, Lennon said yes, albeit reluctantly, when Dylan asked him to appear in a scene.
“He said, ‘I want you to be in this film,’” Lennon recalled. “And I thought: Why? What? He’s going to put me down!”
At daybreak, they were dressed sharp for their debut as co-stars — Lennon in a blazer over a turtleneck, Bob in a dark jacket and stiff-collared shirt. As they rode in the back of an Austin Princess limousine, the filmmaker D.A. Pennebaker trained his lens on them from the passenger seat. Lennon was stiff. Dylan was jittery.
Speaking of the limo ride a few years later, Lennon said that he and Dylan were “on junk” — slang for heroin. That contradicts other statements made by Lennon, who would say he didn’t try the drug until 1968. It also goes against what we see in the roughly 20 minutes of footage: Lennon appears sober, or close to it; Dylan slurs his words on occasion and becomes nauseated.
A snippet of the scene would appear in “Eat the Document,” a documentary that had its debut in 1972 and has rarely been screened since. The complete limo-ride footage, in all its awkward glory, later leaked out of the Dylan camp and became a cult item, traded as a bootleg among collectors before it surfaced online. Some writers have described it as the kind of thing that would appeal to only the most ghoulish fan, given its ghastly portrayal of its subjects.
When I first came upon it many years ago, it made me cringe. But after I had gone deep into my own private Dylan-Beatles rabbit hole, trying to determine exactly how they had influenced each other, I returned to this scene, watching a pristinely restored version on a hot July afternoon in the coolness and quiet of the Bob Dylan Center in Tulsa, Okla., where it is one of more than 100,000 items in a voluminous archive.
Ego Equals?
The Beatles became Dylan fans in January 1964, when they were staying at the George V in Paris during a three-week residency at the Olympia Theater. In their time away from the stage, they listened again and again to Dylan’s first two albums.
At the same time, the Beatles’ first No. 1 hit in America, “I Want to Hold Your Hand,” was inescapable. When Dylan heard it on New York’s pop radio stations, he wasn’t impressed. He told a friend, the journalist Al Aronowitz, that the Beatles were for “teeny-boppers.” Aronowitz, an unlikely Beatles fan at age 35, tried to tell him how wrong he was.
A few weeks later, after more than 70 million Americans had watched the Beatles on “The Ed Sullivan Show,” Dylan had a sudden change of heart. It happened in Colorado, when he was on a cross-country road trip. The Beatles were blasting out of the car radio, hit after hit, and their music now struck him with force.
"Did you hear that?” he said, according to his then road manager, Victor Maymudes. “Man, that was great!” Dylan would later elaborate on what he was thinking in that moment: “I knew they were pointing the direction of where music had to go.”
While interviewing the Beatles for a magazine story, Aronowitz told Lennon he should get to know Dylan, adding that he could arrange a meeting. Lennon begged off, saying he had to wait until he considered himself Dylan’s “ego equal.”
By summer’s end, the adulation had left Lennon feeling more self-assured. He called Aronowitz from the Delmonico Hotel in Manhattan, where the Beatles were staying, and said he was ready.
That night, in a hotel-room get-together that would go down in rock lore, the Beatles and Dylan got high and laughed till dawn.
Hide Your Love
By the end of 1964, the Beatles no longer seemed like cheeky moptops. The cover of their new album, “Beatles for Sale,” a moody affair with folk accents, presented them as weary, melancholy, serious. Maureen Cleave of The London Evening Standard speculated on the reason for the change. “One might hope that John Lennon soon ceases to be so influenced by Bob Dylan,” she wrote in a mixed review.
In an interview with Melody Maker, Lennon revealed that Dylan had inspired him to write “I’m a Loser,” the raw second track of “Beatles For Sale.” An earlier song, “A Hard Day’s Night,” he added, had been in the Dylan vein before it was “Beatle-fied.”
As the world’s most popular group left behind the hormonal enthusiasm of its early hits, Dylan decided to enlist some musicians to help him record a new song, “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” at a Manhattan studio.
This was a big move for someone who had presented himself as a solo troubadour in the tradition of Woody Guthrie. But he was ready to act on his Beatles epiphany, ready to challenge the notion that the mere presence of an electric guitar and drums on a song meant it had to deal with lightweight concerns.
With “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” he laid four rapid-fire verses overflowing with absurd aphorisms and social commentary onto the bones of a rock ’n’ roll hit he had loved as a teenager, Chuck Berry’s “Too Much Monkey Business.”
Weeks later, Lennon started writing his most intimate song yet, “Norwegian Wood (This Bird Has Flown).” Its chords came straight out of folk. The lyrics were also something new for him, belonging to the adult realm of after-hours regret. A first-person narrator tells of his furtive visit to a woman’s flat. They talk “until two,” when she says she must work in the morning, meaning he’s not welcome to join her in bed.
By the time of the Beatles’ next recording session, in February 1965, Lennon had another Dylan-style song ready to go: “You’ve Got to Hide Your Love Away.” It wasn’t lost on his colleagues, what he was up to. “I asked him not to sound too much like Dylan,” the producer George Martin said.
No. 1
Two months later, fans swarmed Dylan on his arrival at London Airport (now Heathrow). It wasn’t quite Beatlemania, but there were a few screams, and officers in bobby helmets stepped in when the mob clawed at his hair and clothes.
Between concerts, Dylan (who declined requests for an interview about his relationship with the Beatles through a spokesman) spent time with the Beatles at the Savoy hotel. He also visited Lennon at his mansion in Surrey, where they wrote and recorded a song together, according to an interview Dylan gave in 1985. That song, which may be lost, has yet to turn up on any bootleg or archival release.
In August, the Beatles returned to New York to play Shea Stadium. On their first night in town, Dylan arrived at their suite in the Warwick Hotel. They lit up joints and listened to an acetate disc of his forthcoming album, “Highway 61 Revisited,” in which he further committed himself to rock. Two nights later, after the Shea concert — the first stadium show headlined by a pop act — Dylan returned to the Warwick to celebrate the Beatles’ triumph.
Their influence on each other was now making itself known to the world. Dylan’s latest single, “Like a Rolling Stone,” and the Beatles’ new one, “Help!”, went to No. 1 on U.S. charts.
Lennon and McCartney soon got busy writing for the next Beatles album, “Rubber Soul.” The batch included something new for them — two songs that had nothing to do with romantic love, “Nowhere Man” and “The Word.”
Around the same time, Dylan was trying to come up with another hit. For inspiration, he turned to a song written by Lennon and McCartney, “I Wanna Be Your Man,” a catchy rocker that had been released as a Rolling Stones single and a Beatles album track. Dylan filled the verses with surreal imagery, making the case that a pop song didn’t have to be saddled with unimaginative lyrics. He called it “I Wanna Be Your Lover.”
The Beatles album “Rubber Soul” came out a few weeks later. When Dylan heard the second track, “Norwegian Wood,” he felt things had gone too far. He would have to respond.
‘Fourth Time Around’
The muse visited him Feb. 14, 1966, at a recording studio in Nashville. With a pen and a yellow legal pad, Dylan wrote furiously while the hired musicians bided their time. This was “Fourth Time Around,” his pointed reply to “Norwegian Wood.”
Like the song that had given rise to it, “Fourth Time Around” describes a romantic visit gone awry. For the music, Dylan mimicked the melody and meter of “Norwegian Wood.”
Al Kooper, a musician who took part in the session, noticed the likeness right away. “I said, ‘It sounds so much like “Norwegian Wood,”’” he recalled in a 1987 interview. “And he said,
