The musician biopic seems to be the latest trend in the film industry, with each year bringing us a new artist’s life story, whether it be Bob Dylan’s rise to fame in James Mangold’s “A Complete Unknown” or the struggles of Elvis Presley in Baz Luhrmann’s “Elvis.” In this oversaturated market, though, standing out is everything, and unfortunately Scott Cooper’s (“The Pale Blue Eye”) “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere” does not rise to the occasion, delivering an unoriginal and painstakingly generic film.
The film opens in stark black and white, depicting a young Bruce Springsteen (Matthew Anthony Pellicano Jr., debut) as he goes to collect his father (Stephen Graham, “Boiling Point”) from the bar. We then jump directly into the colorful concert setting as a now grown-up Springsteen (Jeremy Allen White, “The Bear”) sings his heart out onstage to his song “Born to Run.” From there, we get the typical musician struggles as the studio pressures Springsteen to begin work on his next album.
The film is thus centered around the recording process of Springsteen’s 1982 album Nebraska — which he records in his bedroom with the help of Mike Batlan (Paul Walter Hauser, “The Naked Gun”), his guitar technician, and his friend-slash-manager Jon Landau (Jeremy Strong, “The Apprentice”) — and the ensuing battle with his studio to have it realized the way he envisions. The film also explores the developing relationship between Springsteen and Faye Romano (Odessa Young, “The Order”), a young single mother he meets in New Jersey.
The throughline that weaves itself around each part of the story is Springsteen’s constant struggle with his mental health as he reckons with the trauma of his childhood. White’s performance is a standout as he navigates the complexities of depression, delicately balancing the emotional turmoil with the already difficult nature of portraying a real person. These moments are the film at its best, reflecting on trauma, mental health and their relationship to music.
Unfortunately, the film doesn’t give itself adequate time to breathe and delve into the complexities of mental health. The film spends the majority of its time outlining the deterioration of Springsteen’s mental health as he buckles under the enormous pressure of the music industry and his personal life. But, in the end, Cooper boils down 10 months of therapy into one frame that reads “10 months later,” a disappointing portrayal that could have depicted the other side and delivered a satisfying resolution to his struggles. Instead, the growth happens off-screen, leaving the audience to see only the results while shutting them out of the journey.
Other strong moments sprinkled throughout the film hint at a deeper story begging to be told, but they are similarly rushed through. The relationship between Springsteen and his father was particularly gripping; when adult Springsteen picks up his dad, drunk from the bar — a direct parallel to the opening scene — they have an incredibly raw exchange as Springsteen’s father reflects on his shortcomings. Jeremiah Fraites’ (“The Long Walk”) score beautifully frames the scenes. However, when their relationship shares a stage with Springsteen’s music career, his mental health journey and his love life, it is ultimately buried beneath the many other storylines of the film, resulting in an anticlimactic and unearned final reconciliation.
Likewise, the friendship between Springsteen and Landau was refreshing, depicting an incredibly healthy male friendship. It was a novel take on the manager-singer relationship, and seeing Landau’s genuine concern and attempts to help Springsteen was extremely touching. However, in stark contrast to their relationship was Springsteen’s relationship with Batlan, who felt like a generic stock character. He acted as the ironic voice of the audience, stating the obvious for cheap laughs. One of the more moving scenes of the film was when Springsteen lay on the floor listening to Suicide’s “Frankie Teardrop,” a dark and grating song that reflected the inner turmoil of his character. However, the moment is immediately undermined when Batlan enters and makes a joke about the obvious discordance of the song, pulling the audience from the scene and transforming a solemn moment into a joke. Batlan felt like a wasted character; he could have mirrored the uniqueness of Landau and Springsteen’s relationship, but instead he only emphasized a contrast in show business ideals.
Beyond his music career, Cooper’s depiction of Springsteen’s love life is not much better. His girlfriend, Faye, was created as a composite character representing multiple women with whom Springsteen had a relationship during this time. His relationship with Faye is incredibly shallow — she is a love interest for the sake of having a love interest. She is initially presented as a fan of Springsteen’s who is lucky enough to garner his attention, yet she is ultimately discarded at the end. Cooper portrays her as inconsequential to Springsteen’s story, and removing her character would have given more space to explore the deeper parts of the story, like Springsteen’s experience in therapy, his subsequent introspection or the rekindling of his relationship with his father.
Generally, very little in this film feels unique, with every story beat, character and conflict appearing rehashed and generic. It checks every box for a typical biopic — from fights with studio executives to strained relationships caused by the nature of show business — while the pieces that do make it stand out are glossed over. Similarly, Masanobu Takayanagi’s (“Hostiles”) cinematography was beautiful and technically sound, but rarely stood out as unique or gripping, following formulaic concert imagery and stale close-ups. The issues with Takayanagi’s cinematography extend to the whole film: Every part is well-made, but it lacks inventiveness and originality.
Inherently, biopics are self-indulgent, created to appeal to fans of the musician who want to listen to their favorite songs while getting a glimpse into the artist’s life. This is particularly obvious in a recording studio scene where Springsteen performs his biggest hit, “Born in the U.S.A.,” despite it not being a part of Nebraska, the album the film is actually about. Choosing to include this song is meant to appease the audience — most of whom aren’t Springsteen aficionados, but who came to the theater to hear one or two hits — rather than contribute anything to the story. Moments like these pull the audience out of the film, acting like a flashing neon sign that ensures we remember this is about the Bruce Springsteen, even if it is to the detriment of the story being told.
The core struggle of this film is the fact that, outside of his career, Springsteen just isn’t that interesting. He’s not enigmatic like Dylan, nor does he have the mystique of Freddie Mercury that allowed the actors and writers of “A Complete Unknown” and “Bohemian Rhapsody” room for interpretation and a fresh perspective. In fact, Springsteen was largely involved in the production of the film, creating an inherently strange dynamic and transforming the work into a de facto autobiography. Sure, “Springsteen” may be technically sound, but it’s destined to be just another biopic lost to time and buried in the public consciousness.
Daily Arts Contributor Taylor Koski can be reached at tckoski@umich.edu.
