'Bono: Stories Of Surrender' succeeds and fails in almost equal amounts

In trying to adapt Bono's one man show into a piece of cinema, Andrew Dominik and his crew have only succeeded half way. 

Bono's ability to achieve an uncommon and altogether natural level of intimacy with his audience is obviously not the problem. In close-ups, Bono's performance reminds us that he might have had a future in acting after all. He's an incredible mimic and his comic timing when going for a laugh is equally flawless. The heavier moments, mostly involving his relationship with his father, also have a weight to them that will feel familiar to anyone who has had an up-and-down relationship with their own father. For a show about a rock star, Bono makes his life oddly relatable in these tales and reenactments. These chunks of the film make it worthwhile viewing even for the casual fan. 

So, what is the problem here? Simply put, Dominik and Bono don't trust the show enough to just have it filmed on its own terms. I saw "Stories Of Surrender" when it played here in Chicago back in November of 2022. I saw it just a few days after my own father's funeral. The moments where Bono moves to the left of the stage to reenact conversations with his father, who always started the talk with "anything strange or alarming?" just as my own father would do in his own way, these were the moments I loved most. It was incredibly moving on that front, but it was also a joy watching my favorite frontman being free of his bandmates and becoming a natural storyteller. The way he used his body within the mostly bare bones stage, the yellow-and-white color palate of the pencil sketch motif that permeated every aspect of the scenery, making us feel like we were flipping through an old notebook of memories along with him and the way he was able to let us into his world of friends and family, making us wish we were there... I wish there was a way he could do this sort of thing again. The nearly two-hour show took us on a fun and, dare I say it, satisfying "musical journey." 

Nothing needed to be added or enhanced. The addition of a light wall behind Bono in this black-and-white rendering of the show is a baffling choice. Prior to watching the film, Apple TV+ put a disclaimer about the flashing for photosensitive viewers. I couldn't imagine why this might be necessary based on the show I saw two years ago and I still don't know why it's needed. The disclaimer is warranted, of course, but the music and Bono's story doesn't demand such theatrics. U2's music isn't the pulse of the narrative this time. The songs are (mostly) delicately layered in as a back-up to the stories Bono is telling. At first, I was envious of those who got to see it on the big screen at Cannes. Now, I'm not so sure. The blinding, flashing lights feel like an obstacle to get through before we get to enjoy the next segment where we hope the lightshow will calm down. 

I don't remember the show well enough to know offhand what has been cut, but about a half-hour of the show is missing. Bono and Dominik add an unnecessary backstage moment as Bono prepares for "Act 3," in which it is promised that an uncompromising amount of truth must now be laid out. Sure, much of Bono's show is about being a performer and the relationship between performer and audience, but one can't help get the sense that this could be time better used. The best thing for a performance film such as this is to simply let the speaker do the speaking about it, as Bono does eloquently and just enough (if you want him to expound on these ideas ad nauseum, buy the book). The segment feels overly staged and adds very little. 

The textbook example of a great performance film that works as cinema is Jonathan Demme's film of Spalding Gray's monologue "Swimming To Cambodia." Demme and his crew added lighting effects and a rhythmic score by Laurie Anderson to Gray's otherwise simple guy-sitting-at-a-desk-talking. Demme also knew when to pull back and just let Gray's tales sweep the viewer away, as he had the power to do with his prose and subject matter. Bono is equally gifted in these departments, but the big difference is that Bono also needs to sing and "Stories Of Surrender," apparently needs to feel like a concert film as well as a performance film. Except it doesn't. The songs exist as part of the monologue.

The result is a film visually struggling to feel like two separate experiences. The close-ups and intimacy of Bono's spoken word is where the power exists. Many of the musical portions, oddly enough, feel distracting instead of emotionally charged, thanks to unnecessarily stylized lighting and over-editing. 

Nevertheless, in spite of its glaring flaws, we do get to see Bono in a rare performance mode and that's not nothing. If you're lucky enough to get a hold of any one of secretly filmed shows from the tour, do yourself a favor and give it a look. You won't get the front row experience you get here, but you will see just how special this show really was and how it could've been equally well translated on a professional and artistic level. Making a show like this "feel like cinema" sounds admirable, but in this case, it's more of a detriment. 

And yet... I'll probably end up watching it at least 10 times this summer.