‘It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley’ Review: Amy Berg Crafts a Stirring if Circumscribed Tribute to the Troubadour With the Voice of an Angel

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A decade following Amy Berg’s biographical documentary about Janis Joplin, “Janis: Little Girl Blue,” she delves back into the realm of music with “It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley.” This moving tribute showcases another extraordinary talent whose life was tragically cut short, yet left behind an indelible mark. From those who were moved to tears by his music in the ’90s to modern-day romantics discovering him through social media, every fan has their favorite Buckley songs. My personal favorites span between “So Real” and “Grace,” as well as “Last Goodbye” and “Everybody Here Wants You.” For Berg, who feels the artist’s music deeply woven into her new documentary, it seems that his powerful rendition of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” holds a special place.

As a gamer, I totally get why you’d pick that track. It’s the only one of Buckley’s that hit No. 1 on the Billboard chart, which is quite an achievement, especially considering it came out 11 years after his untimely death at just 30. However, it does give off a vibe that, like many music documentaries endorsed by family members managing the artist’s estate (in this case, his mother, Mary Guilbert), it presents an approved narrative rather than one that delves deep or offers fresh perspectives.

Without confusion, there’s a wealth of content here for anyone eager to explore the life and music of the singer-songwriter, known for his remarkable four-octave vocal range and a falsetto that can melt hearts or match a powerful hard rock scream. He’s an intriguing figure in old interviews, many performance clips are captivating, the music has never sounded better, and it’s delightful to listen to him talk about his diverse musical influences — from Judy Garland to Nina Simone to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan; Led Zeppelin to Soundgarden to The Smiths; Bill Evans to Shostakovich.

In a 1995 interview, he succinctly explained his primary musical inspirations as “Love, anger, depression, joy… and Zeppelin.” Notably, Led Zeppelin’s guitarist Jimmy Page and vocalist Robert Plant admired Buckley’s extraordinary debut and sole studio album, “Grace,” as did Bob Dylan, David Bowie, and Morrissey.

For those well-versed in Buckley’s work and the lore associated with him, they might find little that seems strikingly fresh or groundbreaking.

Berg is a skillful filmmaker who has directed both documentaries and narrative films. Alongside editors Brian A. Kates and Stacey Goldate, she creates an engaging compilation that maintains a swift tempo, alternating visual styles to highlight the unique traits that made Buckley a captivating, soulful new musical talent when ‘Grace’ was released in 1994. However, there’s a polished feel to ‘It’s Never Over’, characterized by its abstract graphics, floating text, and trippy visual effects, which somewhat contrasts with the raw emotional depth and poignant longing found in Buckley’s music.

The rapid arrival of the document, following “A Complete Unknown,” highlights the old-fashioned nature of Buckley, as his early career path mirrored that of many artists from the 1960s New York City folk revival, three decades prior. Unlike Dylan who rose through the underground venues of the West Village, Buckley initially garnered attention at the East Village dive Sin-é, performing spontaneous sets for a few patrons that eventually turned into full houses with people overflowing from the doors. It was only a matter of time before the audience included record company executives, and he signed with Columbia, much like Dylan did in 1961.

Before my Sin-é days, my first public performance in New York took place at a glittering tribute concert in 1991, honoring my dad, the folk rocker Tim Buckley. Unfortunately, we had parted ways when I was just six months old. Our only meeting happened just before his tragic death at the age of 28, following a heroin and morphine overdose.

I hesitated to perform at that tribute, fearing that people might compare my music with my father’s. But my grandmother convinced me otherwise, encouraging me to share my unique voice with the world.

Buckley’s complex feelings towards his father are frequently evident in Berg’s movie. When an interviewer queries what he received from his dad, Buckley simply states, “People who remember my father. Let’s move on to the next question.” In a touching scene, Matt Johnson, Buckley’s drummer during Grace, recalls him saying that he had lived longer than his father at the age of 29.

To ensure she maintains a clear and considerate focus on her topic, Berg deliberately avoids exploring the similarities in the deaths of Tim and Jeff Buckley. This connection has long been a point of intrigue regarding Jeff’s drowning in the Wolf River, Memphis, in 1997, much like the premature deaths of musicians Nick Drake and Elliott Smith did before and after Jeff. The romanticized notion that these artists were “too pure for this world” is thankfully not touched upon.

It’s reasonable that the document would prefer to disassociate itself from the drug-related fatalities, pointing out that the autopsy results indicated only one beer in Buckley’s system at the time of drowning, and criticizing Rolling Stone for failing to include this detail in its report. Despite his occasional drug use, he was not classified as an addict.

As a devoted fan, I can’t help but ponder over the intriguing circumstances surrounding his passing. The haunting themes of water and drowning in his songs, the emotional goodbyes he made to nearly everyone around him beforehand, the heart-wrenching note he left for his mother, and the unusual choice to enter the water dressed completely, even wearing his boots – all these details have fueled speculation that what was deemed an accidental drowning might have been a premeditated act. Yet, Berg deliberately avoids engaging with this theory, which has been discredited, thereby reinforcing the impression of a meticulously crafted biography.

Nevertheless, what truly sets this film apart, in addition to its vast collection of historical footage, is the deeply personal tone of the modern interviews. Standout contributors include Guilbert, who openly admits her flaws as a mother but powerfully expresses the deep-rooted affection she and her son shared. Notable perspectives are also offered by past partners, such as musician Joan Wasser, with Rebecca Moore’s emotional recollections particularly resonating. She tearfully remembers that his final words to her were, “Remember that I love you.

Enthusiasts of music legends often crave their unique perspective on events, which might explain some of my finicky doubts about Berg’s film, and perhaps the vast difference in quality and quantity among the numerous music documentaries that have emerged recently.

A musician like Buckley, who stands apart from typical gender roles in the industry and possesses a flowing, oceanic quality that feels overwhelmingly powerful, will forever inspire a deep connection in those touched by their music. While It’s Never Over may not be the definitive biography for everyone, it is an emotional homage crafted with genuine affection.

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2025-01-25 03:55