What’s the Problem with ‘Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere’? The Problem Is That ‘Nebraska’ Is a Bore

The marketing for "Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere" showcases a painted side-profile of the rock icon in a classic performance pose, finger pointed toward the sky. Upon closer inspection, it's evident that the facial features have been carefully altered to more precisely mirror Bruce Springsteen's own likeness, rather than that of the actor playing him, Jeremy Allen White. This appears to be a post-production correction, likely implemented after acknowledging the limited physical similarity between the two men. While a perfect resemblance isn't a prerequisite for a biographical film, this modification stands as the first in a series of elements that feel strangely misaligned.

A particularly incongruous moment in the film depicts Springsteen's inspiration for his landmark 1982 album "Nebraska" striking him as he watches the movie "Badlands" on television. The thematic connection is logical, as the album's title track is told from the perspective of spree killer Charles Starkweather, the subject of Terrence Malick's 1973 cinematic masterpiece. The historical flaw, however, is glaring. Springsteen had already released his 1978 album "Darkness on the Edge of Town," which featured its own iconic anthem named "Badlands"—a direct homage to that very film. This narrative choice feels like an unnecessary and confusing contraction of the artist's creative journey.

Challenging the legacy of "Nebraska" is often considered a critical taboo, given the revered status of this stark, acoustic collection. Universally hailed as a masterpiece, it is frequently ranked alongside foundational minimalist rock works like The Velvet Underground's "White Light/White Heat." Its formidable reputation was significantly shaped by critics like Greil Marcus, who famously described the album as "the most convincing statement of resistance and refusal that Ronald Reagan’s USA has yet elicited," thereby cementing its standing as a potent political statement. This interpretation established a durable framework for viewing the album's raw aesthetic as a deliberate act of rebellion against the commercialism dominating the early 1980s music industry.

Despite this, a potentially heretical opinion endures: "Nebraska" can sometimes come across as a dry, art-house endeavor. While unquestionably poetic in moments, with high points like "Atlantic City," the album as a whole risks fading into a monotonous folk-rock soundscape. Its celebrated position seems oddly detached from the very qualities that have fueled Bruce Springsteen's mass appeal for five decades. Springsteen's music, though capable of profound depth, is fundamentally driven by an infectious rock 'n' roll energy—a quality that is conspicuously missing from "Nebraska." This sentiment was echoed in a domestic setting; when I played the album, my 13-year-old daughter requested different music after just a few tracks. Her reaction amusingly mirrored a scene in the film where a Columbia Records executive makes a similar appeal, highlighting that the album's challenge extends beyond its commercial prospects to a kind of punishing repetitiveness for many listeners.

The film posits that the solitary act of creating "Nebraska" in his New Jersey home served as a therapeutic process for Springsteen, a man grappling with profound trauma from his fraught relationship with his father, played by Stephen Graham. "Deliver Me from Nowhere" aims to dissect this internal conflict and the album's function in resolving it. However, an alternative interpretation emerges. The dominant narrative, reinforced by critics and by Springsteen himself—who has called it the recording he feels closest to—champions the album's lyrical poetry as its supreme accomplishment. I would argue that in fashioning a work so rigorously artistic and severe, an attempt at a purity that might even make Bob Dylan seem lavish, Springsteen was still enacting his personal struggles. The lifelong compulsion to win the approval of his demanding father simply found a new, more intellectually elite outlet. With "Nebraska," he wasn't merely pursuing artistic acclaim; he was striving for the ultimate validation from the cultural establishment, a quest the film itself seems to wholeheartedly champion.