The film “Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere” offers a genuinely surprising and deeply affecting portrayal of a turbulent period in young Bruce Springsteen’s life. Unlike typical studio productions or even many independent films that sanitize emotional struggles, this drama bravely delves into soul-deep pain, allowing the raw hurt, tears, and confusion to resonate powerfully with the audience. In a culture often geared towards narratives of triumph, such a candid exploration of sadness feels remarkably rare and impactful.
Set in 1981, the film opens as Bruce, played by Jeremy Allen White, concludes his immensely successful “The River” tour, featuring the Top 10 hit “Hungry Heart.” At this peak of fame, having graced the covers of Time and Newsweek and with the groundbreaking “Born in the U.S.A.” still years away, Springsteen retreats inward. From this profound introspection emerges his melancholic masterpiece, “Nebraska.” As Springsteen himself recounted in his 2016 memoir, “Born to Run,” this era marked a realization that there are no second chances, only a relentless push “Ahead, into the dark.”
This stark, self-aware understanding forms the core narrative and spiritual foundation of “Deliver Me From Nowhere.” Eschewing the conventional beats of a typical biopic, this portrait film is propelled by exceptional performances from its three lead male actors. Directed by Scott Cooper, the movie draws from Springsteen’s personal history, fluently transitioning between a somber present and poignant black-and-white flashbacks to his childhood. It makes no attempt to provide a definitive summary of the artist or to glorify his achievements, instead focusing on a specific, transformative period. Standard biographical introductions and major life events are notably absent, and key relationships are largely sidelined, with the E Street Band serving mostly as a background presence. Even a few famous figures are mentioned primarily to enhance the period atmosphere.
Biopics often struggle to capture the elusive nature of artistic creation, frequently falling flat due to art’s inherent mystery, unanswered questions, and ambiguities. American cinema typically favors overt action over introspective processes, and characters delivering dramatic outbursts rather than quiet contemplation. There’s little inherent drama in an artist staring at a blank page. While Cooper takes certain creative liberties with Springsteen’s story, at its heart, this film is a profound study of a man grappling with his past and particularly the imposing shadow of his father, Doug (Stephen Graham), as he crafts music in solitude. Following this period, Bruce journeys west, plunging into a despair as profound as the desolate landscapes he captures in his new work.
Cooper’s film is adapted from Warren Zanes’s 2023 nonfiction work, “Deliver Me From Nowhere,” which offers a compelling and focused account of the creation of Springsteen’s “Nebraska.” Zanes’s book meticulously details Springsteen’s creative process, focusing on tangible elements like the small Jersey bedroom where he recorded his initial demos and the four-track cassette machine he purchased. Yet, Zanes also masterfully explores the intangible magic that transforms identifiable components—words, notes, history, a wailing harmonica, a confessional narrative—into a work of art with powerful, ineffable resonance. Zanes, a musician turned author and former guitarist for the band the Del Fuegos, brings a unique perspective to the subject.
The director begins his cinematic rendition immediately after Bruce steps off stage on the final night of the River Tour, visibly exhausted at 31. His friend and manager, Jon Landau (Jeremy Strong), offers a cautious smile, while a journalist waits for an interview. It’s clear everyone wants a piece of Bruce, though his dazed expression suggests he has nothing left to give. He soon settles into a tranquil house in Colts Neck, N.J. Cooper then traces the path described by Zanes, a path that unexpectedly turns when Bruce watches Terrence Malick’s film “Badlands” and its tale of homegrown killers, sparking new inspiration.
Cooper understandably takes some artistic liberties with the narrative, with varying degrees of success. He largely minimizes the broader social and political context, instead concentrating on the more intimate facets of Springsteen’s life. This includes a romantic involvement with a young mother, Faye (Odessa Young), a composite character primarily used to explore themes surrounding Bruce, women, and suppressed pain. Their paths cross outside the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, a bar where Springsteen occasionally joins the house band. Despite his fame, which leads to passersby calling out his name, his celebrity doesn’t hinder casual moments like visiting an arcade or playing make-believe family with Faye and her daughter.
Known for his affinity for dark narratives and palettes, Cooper often gravitates toward heartfelt dramas centered on broken dreams and male protagonists. His previous works, such as “Crazy Heart,” starring Jeff Bridges as an alcoholic country singer, and “Out of the Furnace,” a powerfully acted Rust Belt tragedy featuring Christian Bale, showcase this tendency. While Cooper is a skilled director, he sometimes has a habit of refining the raw edges of his chosen material, occasionally over-aestheticizing the grittiness. In “Deliver Me From Nowhere,” he occasionally veers into a monumentalizing tone common when filmmakers depict historical figures. However, Springsteen’s enduring presence in American culture is less about being a stoic icon and more about his humanity, a central challenge Cooper addresses in this film.
Despite some frustrating passages and a few overly artistic flourishes, “Deliver Me From Nowhere”—a phrase that itself resonates deeply within the “Nebraska” album—has many commendable qualities. Cooper’s directorial strength lies in his genuine conviction (which encourages the audience to believe as well) and his exceptional ability to work with actors. However, his screenwriting sometimes burdens the narrative with excessive exposition; Jeremy Strong’s character, Jon, in particular, is given far too much explaining to do. A scene where Jon confides his worries to his wife, Grace Gummer’s thinly drawn character, feels particularly unnecessary, almost as if he’s speaking to an inanimate object. The female characters, in general, are not as fully developed, though Gaby Hoffmann delivers an illuminatingly desperate performance as Bruce’s mother, Adele.
Jeremy Allen White, acclaimed for his role in the FX series “The Bear,” does not bear a striking physical resemblance to Springsteen. Yet, he and Cooper wisely avoid attempting to force one. White, much like Springsteen himself, possesses immense charisma and a captivating face, its rugged beauty and asymmetry drawing viewers in. His portrayal of Bruce involves significant solitary moments, where the character doesn’t articulate his feelings in a “therapeutically schooled” manner. White masterfully conveys the inexpressible, even as Bruce finds the words and music to articulate his inner turmoil. In a film rich with songs that speak volumes to countless listeners, some of its most poignant moments are the quietest—the lonely silences that, while initially isolating Bruce from the world, ultimately guide him back to it.