(***)

“I don’t want to have to explain it.” That’s a demand many artists can understand. Not having to elaborate on their creativity, just expressing it is the quest. 

That’s also the central issue in this quiet chapter of Bruce Springsteen’s life. An epoch that trapped him in the worst of times emotionally, but not creatively. The singer-songwriter, who’s won 22 Grammys, two Golden Globes and an Academy Award, was adrift. Writer/director Scott Cooper who bases this bio/film/mus/dra on a book by Warren Zanes, Deliver Me From Nowhere, captures that mood. That’s the seed. 

Hard to recollect and depict the entire career of an iconic rock star in 120 minutes (editor Pamela Martin). Easier to look through a window. To catch a glimpse. A period that catalogues pivotal moments. That was 1982, when Springsteen’s spirit was bruised and he created his acoustic  “Nebraska” album. He’d shunned writing in a studio and conceived songs from a bedroom in Jersey. Laid tracks down on a TEAC 144 Port-a-studio four-track cassette recorder. Just him, a guitar, harmonica and his tortured soul.

On the heels of a powerful live concert, Bruce “the Boss” Springsteen (Jermey Allen White, The Bear) is energized by his performance and chants from a raucous audience. As he walks out into the night air, outside The Stone Pony music venue in Asbury Park, NJ, an old acquaintance introduces him to his sister, Faye (Odessa Young). The troubadour takes her number and puts it in a pocket, for later.

Something is eating at him. After touring to support his successful, heartland rock and roll album The River, he’s in a different head space. Influenced by crime/thriller films like Badlands and complex books by Flannery O’Connor, he exiles himself to a home in Colts Neck, NJ and writes what he’s feeling. Deep depression caused by trauma. Caused by an abusive alcoholic dad (Stephen Graham, Snatch) and a mom (Gaby Hoffman) who couldn’t always protect him.  

The creative journey that ensues puts his career on a different path. It threatens relationships with his record company and leaves producer/manager/confidant John Landau (Jeremy Strong, The Apprentice) holding the bag and dodging an onslaught of pressure. Springsteen’s protector encourages the artist to continue, and he’ll handle the friction: “I’ll deal with the noise.” 

The soul-searching exploration that follows takes the man who looks like the world’s strongest musician to a weakened, vulnerable and barely able to cope state. Career challenges, writing music and PTSD don’t make him boyfriend material. As he’s pursued and pressured by Faye, he insists he knows his limitations: “I don’t want this to be more than what I’m up to… I don’t know how to love you any better than I do now, and that’s not enough.”

The melancholy storyline becomes more compelling by the minute, helped greatly by profound dialogue. You’re drawn into a sadness that’s pronounced. It’s in his expressions. In the solemn folksinger songs. What’s on view takes you into the head of a music solider who has lost his bravura and his way. The introverted leanings become most obvious when he writes “Born In the USA” — as a quieter song. Then when he tests it in a studio with his band and rocks it the f—k-out, that burst of light among the darkness is a welcomed shock. It reminds you that somewhere, there’s the other Bruce. The lively one his fans know. Not this stranger.  

That glimpse of a high-voltage spirit is a teaser that might make fans wish this material had taken a different approach. A different chapter. Certainly, dramas about depression are purposeful, even if all they do is shed light on the disease. But that subject and this indie-film-feel style will likely narrow the amount of movie fans in theaters, and therefore profits. Repeat viewings are highly unlikely. However, from an artistic standpoint, watching and listening to the creation of the Nebraska album is a hauntingly beautiful experience. Artistry in the purest sense. That’s what viewers will take away.  

The first moments of the film are particularly jarring because White looks nothing like Springsteen. The Golden Globe Award-winning actor wasn’t a singer or guitar player, beforehand. He feigns being a vocalist well, but doesn’t have a voice that resonates. He plays simple chords on the acoustic guitar OK, but fakes electric guitar on stage in a cheesy air guitar way. Scott’s better at capturing the deep, painful emotions of the moment. Seasoned by a bit of romance and sparse joy. His steady and brilliant acting peaks in a scene in a therapist office. Anyone not moved beforehand, will blubber now. That’s the mark of fine acting.  

Strong makes Landau an emotional pin cushion, counselor, therapist and best buddy in ways that could earn him an Oscar® nom for best supporting actor. Not a seam in his performance. Young plays the single mom with the right amount of grit and hurt. The silent pauses and hollow stares given by Graham makes his eerie portrayal of a complicated dad linger. The way his face is lit and filmed (cinematographer Masanobu Takayanagi, Silver Lining’s Playbook) gives him a lost-soul image that your eyes and brain won’t forget.  

This bio/film takes a while to grow on you and sink in. It is not the rollicking, exhilarating experience many Springsteen fans will expect. But that likely is the sacrifice the filmmakers and cast were willing to make to tell their story, their own way. And why should they have to explain it. When what they’re thinking is right there on the screen. 

Trailer: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oQXdM3J33No
Photo courtesy of 20th Century Studios
For more information about the New York Film Festival go to https://www.filmlinc.org/nyff/
Visit Film Critic Dwight Brown at DwightBrownInk.com