IT'S NEVER OVER, JEFF BUCKLEY - Mark Reviews Movies

It's Never Over, Jeff Buckley, Magnolia Pictures

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Review by Mark Dujsik | August 7, 2025

Director Amy Berg's It's Never Over, Jeff Buckley opens with three women describing what the loss of the eponymous singer/songwriter, at the too-young age of 30, has meant to them. It's a stunning string of moments because these three are so honest, but the introduction to this film is also a surprise. Biographical documentaries have, for the most part, become subject to formula as much as any other kind of movie. Instead of doing the usual bit of explaining what the subject's career has meant to so many, Berg cuts straight to the devastating core of Jeff Buckley's story.

To be sure, the rest of the film does adhere the typical formula, immediately following those very personal testimonials with a montage of assorted talking heads and archival footage explaining the importance of Buckley as a musician. From there, we get a standard biography, too—taking us through the singer's childhood, to him honing his apparently inherent musical talents, to the musician gaining a cult following that resulted in a recording deal with a major label. The fact of Buckley's death, as well as how no one who really knew him has been able to recover from the sudden shock of his passing, hovers over all of this, though.

The most vital element of the film's effect, then, is how Berg provides, not only the tragic context of Buckley's life, but also the extent of that tragedy from the very beginning. Even those who know nothing of Buckley before watching this documentary will have the fundamentals almost immediately.

He only recorded one studio album, which lets us know how his struggles to write and assemble a second one will come to nothing. He had grand ambitions and the talent to achieve them, but no one will ever know what Buckley's career might have become. He felt deeply and had plenty of demons, and whether or not he found peace in himself and his past is a question that simply cannot be answered.

If that's not enough heartbreak, the introduction here also reminds us of those left behind by his death. There's Rebecca Moore, who dated and lived with Buckley for a couple of years, and she points out that she has since abandoned the New York City art scene that was her life and career. A lot of that, she admits, is because of Buckley's death. There's fellow musician Joan Wasser, who also dated the singer. She nearly comes to tears out of nowhere when pointing out that hasn't been able to listen to what was released as Buckley's incomplete second album.

Finally, there's Buckley's mother Mary Guibert, who obviously knew the singer his entire life, encouraged him to pursue his dreams, was more aware of his insecurities and sensitivities than probably anyone else, and had, as all parents and children do, a sometimes-fraught relationship with her son. To listen to Guibert is especially painful, because she clearly wants to keep her son's legacy alive but, in talking about a musician whose work was so personal, she also must put his legacy into that difficult context.

A good amount of Buckley's private struggles came from his other parents. He was also a semi-famous singer/songwriter, who dated Guibert when they were both young. She became pregnant and decided to keep and raise the child, and Tim Buckley, the father, left to pursue his career, with apparently no hard feelings from Guibert, who knew he was talented and destined for something. The younger Buckley met his father exactly once—after one of the father's gigs and a week or so spent with his father and his new family. The elder Buckley died of heroin overdose, at the age of 28, about a year later.

The narrative here takes us through Buckley's career, which started with a band in rock high school, where the singer proved his ability to mimic any vocalization and his own vocal range, and gained traction after he performed at a memorial for his father. When an interviewer asks what he inherited from his father, Buckley puts it bluntly: "People who knew my father." He would spend most of his short life trying to get out of his father's shadow, in terms of both being compared to him and trying to avoid a senseless death at a young age and with a whole life of promise ahead of him.

If Berg makes an unnecessary error here, it's in keeping the nature of Buckley's death something of a mystery until the end of the film. We listen to him speak in interviews, referencing suicide when asked about the progress on his next album and saying he only sees a blank screen when asked where he sees himself in ten years. Late in the film, a bandmate scolds a major music publication for not plainly saying that Buckley's death by way of accidental drowning was an accident, indirectly hinting that drugs, alcohol, or something else might have been involved. The storytelling here might lead some to anticipate that, as well, and it feels manipulative and slightly exploitative to do so.

What we learn quite plainly and painfully—by way of these archival documents, including personal phone messages the man left to friends, and modern interviews with people who knew and loved him—is that the tragedy of Buckley's death came at a time when he really did have an entire life ahead of him. It's Never Over, Jeff Buckley may misstep in suggesting some other possibilities, but the strength of the filmmaking and the rawness of the emotional depth on display here, both from Buckley himself and the interviewees, are more than enough to overcome that issue.

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