Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere was released on October 24, and now, just two weeks later, thanks to the good folks at the historic Jones Theater, the film complements our Valley weekend enterÂtainment options. For Springsteen fans and completers, the choice of what to do come Friday through Sunday afternoon is a no-brainer. The Boss gave his imprimatur to the project from the get-go, and his afiÂcionados have been turning out for SpringÂsteen in good numbers, as they will here on Main Street, Westcliffe.
The film, biopic as it is, has been a point of rambling discourse among film critics, who sometimes present themselves as if they know more about film making than film makers. The contentious point for the pros here seems to be whether a âsliceâ of the young Springsteenâs troubled, moody, anxious, self-questioning creative life, bordering on breakdown and depression, qualifies as an adequate cinematic account of his musical legacy.
Those writers seem to miss a major quality of the film: this is clearly a SpringÂsteen story, not the Springsteen story. A good number of film reviewers on the other side of the critical spectrum point that out, and encourage viewers, fans or not, to soak up through this Springsteen story what tensions exist in a creative lifeâespecially one committed to getting Americaâs story straight. (The film âsliceâ is that of the young musician Springsteen bringing the folk album âNebraskaâ together, as well as pieces of his breakthrough album, âBorn in the USA.â)
Viewing pleasure has been enhanced by a stellar performance from Jeremy Allen White in the title role; there is consensus that he looks, feels, behaves, moves, sings like the Boss. This is what film critic Bilge Ebiri has to say about all that at vulture.com: âThere are two Bruce Springsteens in Scott Cooperâs volatile new biopic, Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere. At times, we might wonder if one has ever met the other. The first is a silent, troubled, closed-off young artist almost too eager to fence himself in. This Springsteen rents a home in the woods of Colts Neck, New Jersey, and effectively barricades himself into a bedroom where he obsessively watches Terrence Malickâs Badlands on a loop and feverishly writes the anguished songs that would form his seminal 1982 folk album, Nebraska. For all its bleakness, the music itself, a dark heartland murmur, still has a fearsome sense of possibility: Springsteen composes lyrics about highways and loners, all-night drives and lovers on the run. Itâs ironic, perhaps, that he must enclose himself in a tiny room to let himself dream of expanses both physical and existential.â
You wonât be in âa tiny room,â but you will be enclosed in the comfort of the historic Jones while you explore the edgy creation of an American icon and legend.
The other Springsteen Ebiri refers to, by the way, is the explosive performer, the forming Boss âshaking and sweating and bellowing his way through sets.â The tenÂsion between âthe two Bruce Springsteensâ is the narrative core of the film. Ebiri also reports this snippet from Springsteen, and corny as it is, there is a recognizable human moment here: ââI do know who you are,â someone says to Bruce. âThat makes one of us,â he replies.â
We recommend you bring all of the assembly of yourself to one or more of the two-hour PG-13 Springsteen showingsâFriday and Saturday at 7 p.m., and again on Sunday, November 2 at 2 p.m. Doors open 30 minutes before showtime, with tickets available at admission prices so modest youâll think youâre being treated like a rock star.
Enjoy!
