After I watched Amy J. Berg’s latest documentary and her second portrait of an artist who unfortunately passed away way too young—(the first was “Janis: Little Girl Blue,” a doc about Janis Joplin and her quick rise to fame from being in the Big Brother and the Holding Company band to her famed, yet short, solo career)—“It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley” (which screened at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival in the Premieres section), I took a look at my record collection to see if I had one of Buckley’s record. I remember having one of his father’s, Tim Buckley, ‘”Blue Afternoon” from 1969, which contains some beautiful songs like “I Must Have Been Blind” and “Blue Melody,” but not of Jeff.
Scrolling Through My Record Collection to Listen to Sonic Bliss
As I scrolled through my currently unorganized collection due to buying a new cabinet to place them, to my surprise, there it was. Behind the soundtrack album of “Rock n’ Roll Highschool” was “Grace,” Jeff Buckley’s most acclaimed and notable work. It is a profound reflection of love, death, growth, and the essence of life that deeply resonates with the soul. And I immediately played it front to back. Not solely because of the documentary but also because I want to hear his angelic hymns for the first time in a long while. After listening to “Grace,” I started to ponder his life, pre—and post—this record.
Buckley had a complicated life, from a troubled childhood, moving around California to meeting his estranged father, who passed away two days later by a drug overdose, to his tragic, accidental passing. You feel the pain in the lyrics and compositions of his records. It is like a tattoo, an irremovable scar. His father also had that touch in his lyrics, where Tim’s storytelling could transport you and easily transmit his emotions through sad (and sometimes hopeful and joyous) tales about love, life, and everything in between. However, Jeff’s artistic prowess and voice made his records more resonant with audiences. His heartfelt expression connected with fans and his lyrics were related to their woes. That’s why his unexpected passing at the very young age of twenty-eight hurt a lot for those who listened to his work. They all shed tears due to the piercing emotional tangibility.
I must note that Berg does not dwell too much on Jeff and Tim’s passings and their unfortunate similarities and juxtaposition to keep the focus on the music and artistry rather than the morbid curiosity of artists and their tragic deaths. To this day, it still has a staggering effect. New fans fall in love with Jeff Buckley and his angelic voice each year and later learn about his life. They respond with deep, saddened sighs and a broken heart. In many ways, this feeling encapsulates Amy J. Berg’s documentary, “It’s Never Too Late, Jeff Buckley.” The “It’s Never Over” in the title not only calls to a lyric in “Lover, You Should’ve Come Over,” but also that generational, universal feeling that Jeff Buckley and his music created, one of admiration, sadness, wanting to protect, and hopefulness for the future.
Buckley’s Music Will Forever Bless the Hearts of Those Who Bask Upon His Work
Hence, Buckley’s music will forever bless the hearts, souls, and ears of those who play one of his tracks. Berg, through archive footage, interviews with lovers, fans, and musicians, and her devotion to Buckley as a musician, wanted to capture that feeling. It will never be over; Buckley graces the mic as he belts out wonders, and even though he has passed, the world listens. Everybody still listens. We see a couple of Buckley’s former lovers, companions, and co-workers (producers, musicians, comrades in the industry) tell stories, both in tragic and joyous natures, about a man who could have (and should have) become a legend, or a huge household name that spoke to everyone decade through decade.
The key focus of “It’s Never Over” is Buckley’s relationship with the women in his life, whether his mother, Mary Guibert, or partner, Rebecca Moore. By using these bonds as the primary guide into his persona and art, Berg explores the subject’s multifaceted and empathetic essence behind the camera or the spotlight, which was blundered by some mental health problems and broken relationships that paved him down a road that affected the latter of his life profoundly. This is where Berg’s opinion about him comes from—by intertwining their passages with live performances of songs that match thematically and resonate emotionally. From this point, the doc’s weight comes from the songs and performances more than the interviews themselves. There are some interesting and touching anecdotes, though many are basic knowledge by those who have read about him.
For the most part, the interviews don’t manage to tap into the psychological side of his discography. I know he only released one legitimate album in “Grace.” However, through the demos and recordings of “Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk,” you can notice a couple of patterns that hint at a much deeper, more introspective side of Jeff Buckley. His lyrics and vocals were raw, often shifting from fragile to commanding in mere verses as he pleased. (It was impressive to hear this severe tonal change. Few artists can pull off this, especially with that vocal range.) But in this posthumous record, there are strong suggestions of an ongoing inner turmoil that is cursing him, transmitted onto the melodies on the album.
‘My Sweetheart the Drunk,’ More Open and Unraveling
One could also interpret it as Buckley struggling with the duality of fame and personal identities, the public and the close-knit. Of course, love, loss, and longing were the key themes on the many tracks he recorded for both “Grace” and “My Sweetheart the Drunk.” In the latter, you sense a more profound emotion through the tracklist: restlessness, yearning, and an inability to reconcile with oneself. Since these songs are incomplete or missing the perfectionist touch that Buckley had during recording sessions, they are fragmented glimpses into his complex psyche at the time of recording—not so long after his death. Even then, “My Sweetheart the Drunk” does not feel unfinished or unpolished. It is more open and unraveling than “Grace.”
My favorite track of his is “Love, You Should’ve Come Over” (I know it’s a basic, boring pick, but it is an excellent song, and you can’t deny that). But I prefer “Sweetheart” to the 1993 album. That was a window into Jeff Buckley’s mind, body, and soul, tripped from the shine and wax and oozing naturalness. One of the things missing from the documentary is an exploration and dissection of his work. Many directors who make autobiographical portraits miss out on the opportunity to analyze an artist’s work and growth throughout the years through their lens, not from others, and contain a deep bottling of a Wikipedia page rundown.
That’s why people new to his work and not that adept with Buckley might find these interviews and anecdotes more fascinating and rich than those fond of his work because us who are very fond of him will try and read the notes carefully and examine the tracks, not just listen to them—going into one ear and out the other. The one angle in this doc that indeed was fascinating (and I didn’t know much about ) was Guibert as a supportive mother figure who was trying her best to keep a young Buckley safe and sound as she moved around California and motivating him later in his life on a creative side. Berg provides a deep insight into her role as a mother and caretaker and her tight bond, where they suffered plenty but maintained their steady paths because they kept relying on each other.
Weird Transitions and A Loss of Direction
Guibert is one of the reasons Buckley plays guitar, which was already second nature by blood and heart. The other angles and talking points separated from this exploration of motherhood and Guibert as a guide are messily tied together, showing Berg’s loss of direction amidst the material and archive footage. The documentary loses focus occasionally as it intertwines a handful of topics. There is a sense of coherence lost amidst the transitions between the topic Berg wants to cover, the stylish additions of psychedelic effects (handwritten notes, graphics, and visualizers), and the live performances. Again, the only time “It’s Never Over” is calmly maintained with narrative structure is with the story of Buckley’s mother.
The doc runs its course haphazardly for most of its run-time. However, when talking about Guibert, and since Jeff Buckley is genuinely a very fascinating figure, it gets a new life. This touch provides insight and separates itself from the other autobiographical portrait screenings at the festival, of which plenty exist. “It’s Never Over” is a testament to the man’s timeless talent, scattered in vision and structure. However, viewers new to his work might look at it differently and with more interest. Unlike me, who only wanted more from Berg’s lens into Buckley and Guibert.
“It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley” screened at the 2025 Sundance Film Festival in the U.S. Documentary Competition of the festival.
