It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley Review: The Man, Not the Myth

Though It’s Never Over spans Buckley’s infancy, his rise to fame, and his untimely death at the age of 30, some of the most arresting footage captures early performances at defunct East Village coffee house Sin-é, where Buckley waited tables and played solo in the early ’90s. Those sets, lovingly captured on the Live at Sin-é compilation, present unvarnished early versions of the songs that would populate Grace. In a brief, black-and-white clip of Buckley singing “Mojo Pin,” you can actually hear the chatter in the room completely dissipate—as if someone was controlling it with a volume knob. These moments are singular and special, and you can feel that rare sensation along with everybody in the audience: That there is something about this person, and their hold on you is inescapable. If I took any issue with Berg’s documentary, it’s that these moments can be too brief and abandoned rather quickly, often interrupted by animated text and motion graphics.

But Berg still understands the power of a single image; one of the most gutwrenching shots is of an old matchbook with a phone number and “love you,” scribbled in ballpoint pen. It was quite possibly the only object Tim Buckley directly gave to Jeff, after they met for the first time in 1975. Jeff was eight, and his mom took him to see Tim play at a club in Southern California. The younger Buckley wound up staying with his father—and his new family—for about a week, before Tim put him on a bus back to his mom, matchbook in hand. Tim Buckley died two weeks later. Jeff wasn’t mentioned in a single obituary. Berg cuts back to that matchbook only once or twice more in the film, but it hits with a hefty weight.

On May 29, 1997, Buckley went for a spontaneous swim in Memphis’ Wolf River. He was fully clothed, which, combined with the river’s undertow and the wake of a passing boat, contributed to his drowning. Miles away, his bandmates were hitting the tarmac, having flown in to record Buckley’s sophomore LP, My Sweetheart the Drunk. Despite the coroner finding no trace of drugs in Buckley’s system and ruling the death as an accidental drowning, the press still managed to sensationalize the tragedy, insinuating additional factors with phrases like “it was presumed that Buckley had drowned,” and drawing parallels between he and his father’s premature deaths.

Berg’s documentary makes no allusions to fatal drug use or suicidal tendencies, but the specter of mortality was something Buckley acknowledged throughout his own life. In an especially devastating clip, Buckley sits for an interview with his bandmates and is asked where he would like to see himself in 10 years. “I don’t see myself 10 years from now,” he says flatly, eyes downcast and his left leg restless. Bassist Mick Grøndahl cracks up next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Buckley tries to force a smile, but there is something so resolved about his expression. It’s Never Over has no interest in painting Buckley as a doomed, tragic figure, but as an artist who somehow foresaw his brief life—and devoured the world, while he could.