It seems like everybody wants to figure out Bob Dylan these days. In 2005, Martin Scorsese released “No Direction Home,” a revealing documentary that examined the linear evolution of Dylan’s expansive career. Now Todd Haynes has come out with his own exploration of Dylan with “I’m Not There,” a film that is far less linear than Scorsese’s, though perhaps more illuminating than any magazine interview or documentary ever could be.

Rather than trying to finally capture that elusive being behind the music Haynes works to exhibit what Dylan is not, because he believes the former simply cannot be done. Throughout his career, Dylan has undergone numerous chameleonic transformations, as has his music. He went from folk singer to protest writer to rock star to religious fanatic, and as his career carries on his image continues to evolve.

It is this ever-changing image that Haynes is most interested in, more so than the music itself or even the details of how Dylan made each transformation. Haynes enlisted six different actors to play Dylan (one who is a different race than Dylan and another who is a different gender) not only to represent Dylan according to age but also to examine him through the many personas he has inhabited in his lifetime.

Marcus Carl Franklin plays Woody Guthrie, the wandering child version of Dylan who calls himself by the name of his folksinger idol. Ben Whishaw takes the part of Arthur Rimbaud, a young Dylan answering interview questions (with quotes taken from real interviews with Dylan) in a space that is starkly reminiscent of an interrogation room. Christian Bale plays Dylan as both Jack Rollins, the protest singer, and Pastor John, the character of Dylan’s religious phase. Cate Blanchett inhabits him as Jude Quinn, the electric, hard-partying rocker. Heath Ledger is Robbie Clark, Dylan as both movie star and lover, and Richard Gere is Billy the Kid, an older Dylan who has retreated from society into the bizarre, isolated town of Riddle (a section that acts as a tribute to Fellini).

Haynes glides back and forth between these many characters, delving into the way each one relates to his music, to society, and even to himself. There is no strict plot to speak of, and in this way the film itself is much like a Dylan song, wandering through the winding backstreets of language and meaning, never limiting itself with definitions or conclusions. The soundtrack is littered, of course, with Dylan’s music, though much of it consists of his more obscure songs, some that were recorded but never actually made it onto one of his albums. Haynes also throws in a number of amusing verbal puns based on lyrics from Dylan’s songs. As Quinn stands with Allen Ginsberg (a hilarious David Cross) looking up at a large statue of Jesus on the cross, he shouts up, “How does it feel?”

The performances are consistently excellent, but Blanchett’s performance is nothing short of genius. Not only does she (somehow) look the most like Dylan, but she also so occupies him as a character that it seems as if Dylan has reversed time in order to play a younger version of himself in this film. Every movement she makes, every sound she emits utterly brings to life the self-absorbed, reckless Dylan who shocked his fans by plugging in.

Perhaps it is because Blanchett’s character is the most outspoken, most in the spotlight version of Dylan that is portrayed in the film that this particular persona seems to highlight the crux of what Haynes is really trying to articulate. Fans reject this Dylan after he first plays the electrified “Maggie’s Farm,” saying, “He’s changed so much.” A British reporter hounds him for answers to his questions until Quinn finally turns to him and shouts, “You just want me to say what you want me to say!” Here, the film reveals the essence of Dylan. People have tried to define him since the beginning of his career, but he is essentially indefinable, unable to ever be what any one person wants him to be, and perhaps unable to even know himself. What is incredible is Haynes’ deft ability to, in this single moment, make this statement true of both Dylan and all of humanity. Haynes implies that we all take on these personas: Dylan has simply made a career out of it.

If you so choose to brave the intimidating obscurity that is “I’m Not There,” it may be one of the best films you will ever see. It might help to know something about Dylan, but in the end it hardly matters, because as the movie suggests, no one really knows anything about Dylan anyway. The man behind the mask just might not be there. Haynes has proven himself as a modern master of filmmaking, and this film is a tour de force.