I’m Not There is an unusual biopic in that it never refers to its subject, Bob Dylan, by name. Instead, Todd Haynes’ portrait of the singer mimics his constant reinvention by casting six separate actors to play as many reincarnations of the same soul. It’s an ingenious spin on a usually stale genre, one that liberates the film from the humdrum restrictions of a literal retelling of Dylan's life.

If there’s anyone who warrants such an inventive approach to biography, it’s Dylan, whose public and private personas are so numerous that it’s only by angling six different mirrors at him that Haynes can hope to catch some of his essence. Impressionistic editing toggles freely between these vignettes, each visually distinct: from the 11-year-old Woody Guthrie-obsessive (Marcus Carl Franklin) and the black-and-white Super 16mm-shot poet (Ben Whishaw) to the aging cowboy outlaw (Richard Gere), all by way of Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, and Cate Blanchett’s incarnations. To be sure, this is a somewhat challenging film, reflecting, in places, the enigmatic surrealism of Dylan’s lyrics and his refusal to be pinned down to one thing. But, as Blanchett’s embodiment says, “Mystery is a traditional fact,” and that’s no more true than of Dylan, making Haynes’ film a fascinatingly fitting spiritual biopic.

I’m Not There is stacked with generation-topping talent, but it’s Blanchett, as Dylan proxy Jude Quinn, who is easily the standout. She depicts Dylan at the moment when he pivoted from acoustic to decibel-maximising electric guitar — and, in doing so, drew the ire of his fans and sharpened the cynicism of his critics. A tricky juncture in Dylan’s career, this section of the film is also the most demanding, artistically speaking, but Blanchett turns in a complex performance that captures not just Dylan’s jerky mannerisms but also the prickly insecurity and challenging personality of this period in his career.