‘It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley’ Review: A Portrait of Genius and Fragility (HBO Max)

Jeff Buckley’s short life and career — remarkable for the impact he made despite releasing only one album while alive — are reclaimed and explored in this touching, clear-eyed documentary that pays as much attention to the man and his relationships as it does to his music. A singer with a stunning vocal range and a rare, almost delicate sensibility, Buckley blended soul, jazz, folk, and the influence of Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan with his passion for pure rock & roll, especially Led Zeppelin, a band he adored. He also became a symbol of an era in which many independent artists were quickly absorbed by major labels. Buckley never had the chance to grow gradually, and that abrupt transition proved far too heavy to carry.

Though his death at 30 was accidental — he went for a swim in a river and drowned; no alcohol or drugs were found in his system — Buckley struggled with the suddenness of fame, the pressure from the label, and his own internal conflicts. While he was never officially diagnosed, former partners and bandmates suggest he may have suffered from some form of bipolar disorder, visible in his constant mood swings. It’s Never Over… dives into those personal ups and downs: his childhood, his first steps in music, his relationship with his eccentric Panamanian-born mother, and the absence — as well as the fraught shadow — of his father, Tim Buckley, himself a singer who also died young, in his case from an overdose.

Director Amy Berg — known for socially and politically charged documentaries like Deliver Us from Evil and West of Memphis, as well as Janis: Little Girl Blue — relies heavily on period footage, much of it drawn from Buckley’s live performances. That focus makes sense: he grew and evolved onstage, both before releasing his only album, Grace (1994), and throughout the nearly three years of touring that followed. Berg weaves these materials together with moving testimonies — voice messages, letters, personal objects, and a handful of animated moments — from his mother, Mary Guilbert; partners Joan Wasser and Rebecca Moore; and musicians including Michael Tighe, Matt Johnson, Aimee Mann, Ben Harper, and Parker Kindred, among others.

The film doesn’t dive deeply into a musicological analysis of his work. Buckley was a passionate admirer of other artists — many of his released tracks were covers, including his now-legendary version of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” — and a musician who often agonized over writing songs that lived up to his idols. Berg approaches his artistry through the pressures imposed by record labels, the autobiographical hints scattered throughout his lyrics, and most of all the remarkable vocal range that defined him more than anything else.

While it follows many of the conventions of biographical music documentaries that inevitably wind up on streaming platforms, It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley succeeds in capturing the singer with sensitivity, warmth, and above all a deep understanding of his personal and professional struggles — those of a gifted, magnetic young man whose promising career ended just when he still had so much ahead of him.