Amy Berg’s documentary deep dives into the voice and vulnerability that shaped the singer’s legacy.
By Helena Dell’Armi
I have listened to every Jeff Buckley song, and I have read the poetry behind his
songwriting for a long time, but listening to every lyric after ‘It’s never over, Jeff Buckley’ gave me a whole new understanding of an all-consuming love for music.
The California-born singer was drawn to music from an early age and attracted a large audience after playing as a session guitarist in Los Angeles. He then moved to New York and performed in East Village venues in the early 1990’s. After signing with Columbia, he debuted his album ‘Grace’ in 1994.
The documentary from American director Amy Berg tells the beautiful and troubled life of the singer from his early childhood living with his mother to his tragic passing in 1997, when he fully clothed got into a river in Memphis and disappeared. His body was then found, unfortunately, no life. We see Buckley’s relationship with his father (or the lack of) as a central point in his life, in which he always expressed to not shape him. The clips show Buckley uncomfortable with questions about his father, Tim Buckley, the musician who left Jeff’s mother and himself to pursue his music career.
His story is told by the many people who knew him the best: his mother, Mary Gilbert, previous partners Joan Wasser and Rebecca Moore, and his former band members all give us a feeling of what it was like to be near Buckley, so passionate about music and seeing beauty in almost everything.
His album did not sell well at first, peaking at 149 on the US Billboard 200, leading to massive pressure from the recording label on him to do more, which I saw as a way of Berg showing the audience a hidden side of Buckley’s career and how people working with him didn’t know how to deal with such a talented musician.
The documentary is perfectly laid out in terms of music. Each song is carefully picked for the moment we see on the screen, his incomparable song ‘Lover, you should’ve come over’ plays as Rebecca Moore talks about the end of their relationship, ‘Grace’ plays while the interviewees reminisce about the process of Buckley making his debut album, and ‘Mojo Pin’ at café Sin-é when he first started composing music and performing. The layout of the music in the film was so pleasant to hear because of how well everything fit together.
His first version of ‘Hallelujah’, initially performed by Leonard Cohen, was highly praised by his friends and family. A clip of the performance is shown on its own, and straight after, Buckley’s interpretation of the song is demonstrated as a homage to sex and pleasure, rather than a religious hymn. Berg’s inclusion of his own concept on one of his biggest performances is an addition to how Buckley viewed art with his own mind, and although he had huge influence from Led Zeppelin and Nina Simone, his interpretation of music and art remained unique.
As many positives as I found while watching ‘It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley’, it lacks when showing the public his writing process, demonstrating only a little of this meaningful part of his art. I felt as if, as much as people knew him, they didn’t explain that side of him. But I suppose, Jeff Buckley himself said that after he died, all there would be left would be this – his music.
Throughout the documentary, I felt close to his music and art, and because everyone around him told amazing stories as well as the complicated parts with heavy hearts, the public can feel every emotion they are trying to convey. It misses the depth of his songwriting and the underlying motives of his thoughts and mental health. Buckley was always an ambiguous person, and maybe remaining that way is the way for him to always get to us with his music. From teary eyes in the audience to laughs at good memories told by his friends and family, ‘It’s never over, Jeff Buckley’ was truly a story about letting music outlive the silence, and about how the voice of the singer continues to echo after the final notes fade away.