Jeremy Allen White Beautifully Channels a Lost Rock Star in Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere

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Creating a film about the making of Bruce Springsteen’s haunting 1982 album Nebraska – inspired by the true story of killers Charlie Starkweather and Caril Ann Fugate – couldn’t have been simple. It’s equally challenging to depict an artist’s struggle with depression, something Springsteen faced while recording the album. How do you visually capture intense despair or a feeling of complete lostness? Perhaps that’s why Scott Cooper’s Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, with Jeremy Allen White, feels so ethereal and subdued, filled with a deep sadness that’s hard to define.

The story begins with Bruce at the peak of his success – a bit of a whirlwind for a kid from Freehold, New Jersey, who first picked up a guitar after seeing the Beatles on television in 1964. His 1975 album, Born to Run, launched a string of hits that made him famous incredibly quickly. By 1981, after touring for his double album The River, he felt lost and exhausted by the pressures of fame. He felt disconnected from the everyday people he’d known growing up and written about. He withdrew to a small rented house in Colt’s Neck, New Jersey, to find his direction and start writing again, recording initial ideas on a simple four-track recorder as a rough demo.

The film Deliver Me from Nowhere explores this period in Bruce Springsteen’s life, and at this point, his story feels more like a legend than a biography (the film is based on Warren Zanes’ 2023 book of the same name). What’s particularly well done is that the movie doesn’t show Bruce hitting rock bottom or having a major breakdown. Instead, director White portrays him as someone lost and disconnected, like an astronaut floating away from his ship. He appears tired and distant, a stark contrast to the energetic performer we see in an early, captivating concert scene with the E Street Band.

Bruce Springsteen appears at a small house in Colts Neck, seemingly distancing himself from both his recent history and what lies ahead. He relaxes and maintains his creative spark by occasionally returning to the Stone Pony in Asbury Park, though he struggles to remain unnoticed. He becomes interested in a young single mother, Faye, and begins to pursue a relationship with her, though he isn’t very reliable as a partner at this time. He impresses Faye by using his status as a musician to get them into Asbury Park late at night, where he watches her enjoy the merry-go-round. However, just as she starts to hope he’ll stay, he feels compelled to leave, offering a familiar refrain of affection mixed with an inability to commit.

He spent a lot of time creating and then fiercely protecting a strange, almost otherworldly demo. These songs came from his solitary hours spent reading Flannery O’Connor and watching the film Badlands (another take on the Starkweather-Fugate story). We see him in the bedroom of his rented house, always in his familiar plaid flannel shirt, strumming his guitar as sunlight fills the room. Later, he recorded the songs with his band at the famous Power Station in New York, but he wasn’t satisfied with the result. He insisted on releasing the raw demo, which initially confused his manager and close friend, Jon Landau (played with quiet dignity by Jeremy Strong), and worried Columbia executive Al Teller (David Krumholtz, a reliably great presence). Landau not only understood Bruce’s artistic vision but also supported Bruce as a person, and that’s how Nebraska – stark, haunting, and beautiful – finally came to be.

Throughout the film, director James Cooper weaves in black-and-white flashbacks showing a young Bruce (played with touching vulnerability by Matthew Pellicano Jr.) being intimidated by his troubled father, Douglas (Stephen Graham). These childhood experiences come back to haunt him. Cooper, known for films like Crazy Heart, Hostiles, and The Pale Blue Eye, handles the story with sensitivity and realism. The film feels authentic, especially in a powerful scene where Bruce confides in Landau about his pain, admitting, “I don’t think I can outrun this anymore,” and finally letting go of the burdens he’s long kept hidden.

White delivers a remarkably convincing performance as Bruce Springsteen, flawlessly capturing the singer’s signature raspy voice. It’s not simply his vocal imitation or ability to embody Springsteen’s energetic stage presence; White truly understands how Springsteen connects with the joy of performing. Even after countless performances of the same songs, White manages to convey a sense of discovery, reacting with genuine surprise and delight as if experiencing the lyrics anew alongside the audience.

Bruce Springsteen is renowned for his energetic concerts, and this film effectively captures that early spark. However, the movie largely portrays him as a rock star who just wants to be normal, playing quiet songs as if in his own home. This focus on scaling back – encouraged by his manager – may have been crucial for Springsteen’s well-being. While the film subtly explores this idea, it sometimes lacks momentum and feels a bit slow. But the movie’s restraint is also its strength, suggesting that what isn’t shown can be just as important. We often feel like we already know Bruce Springsteen’s story, as if he’s a public figure we all share. This film offers a different perspective, revealing a more vulnerable and haunting side of the artist, like a fleeting moment captured on tape.

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2025-10-24 22:08