It’s somewhat fitting that Andrew Dominik’s second documentary subject, after multiple projects with English musician Nick Cave, is Bono. Cave and the U2 frontman certainly have plenty in common — most immediately obvious, their showman stage personas. Both speak eloquently, and hopefully, about the state of the world and humanity. Both share a sense of faith that permeates their work without organized religion ever being a focus. But where Cave’s performances are more minimalist and introspective, Bono and co. are focused on outsized spectacle and navel-gazing. Despite a stripped-down performance without his bandmates, the Bono in Bono: Stories of Surrender is no less of an extravagant frontman, nor any less focused on the self.
Stories of Surrender is, at its core, a concert film. Recorded during Bono’s one-man show (or “quarter-man show,” as he calls it) of a book tour for his titular memoir, it features performances of classic U2 songs mixed with Bono telling snippets of stories. On the stage are only a table and a few chairs, which the singer moves around to help convey said stories. As Bono speaks, lines are scribbled on the screen, punctuating his points. Which is to say, none of this is a particularly visual presentation on Bono’s part, which makes Dominik’s ability to craft compelling images here all the more impressive. The film is shot entirely in black and white, and, except for a few minutes of Bono looking in a mirror and walking down a hallway, details only the live performance and audience. Stage lights add to the experience, sometimes highlighting chairs to represent the people Bono is speaking to, or at other times lighting him from behind for dramatic effect. It’s one of a select few concert films that manages the trick of truly transplanting the viewer into the role of live audience member.
What’s unfortunate, then, and what undermines so much of the good in Stories of Surrender is the apparent narcissism and self-involvement that seems to be part and parcel of the Bono experience — debatable if that’s a filmic flaw exactly, but it makes for stretches of exasperating viewing. There’s something truly off-putting about a multi-millionaire rockstar talking about how everyone just needs to help each other more and all the world’s problems would be solved, though it’s tough to pinpoint whether this perspective comes from privilege, naivete, or toxic positivity. His attempts to address the hypocrisy come off disingenuous and unhelpful: “Hypocrites get a bad rap,” and “Motives don’t matter, outcomes matter.” Even the short intermission of Bono offstage — the aforementioned mirror gaze and hallway stroll — is a purely manufactured and image-conscious experience, a frustrating glimpse at a man whose personal and persona-l identities have blurred to a point of no return. In a 2025 global present mired by such blatant and institutional evil, Bono’s appearance on Joe Rogan’s podcast to talk about how bad Trump is isn’t the brave act he seems to think it is, and instead feels like mere performative posturing. And in fairness, it must be hard to be an aging rockstar in an age where your every move functions to expand the definition of cringe. But if Bono is looking for tips, he should take a note out of Cave’s book, a man who can turn hating ankle boots into a thoughtful poetic rumination about the nature of friendship, all without betraying an ounce of disingenuousness. Dominik has still delivered a visual text of considerable power, and admittedly doesn’t seem artistically hamstrung by the Bono effect, but the lingering impression left by Stories of Surrender is that a third bio-doc collab with Cave would have reaped richer rewards. The mute button is always an option.
DIRECTOR: Andrew Dominik; CAST: ddd; DISTRIBUTOR: Apple TV+; STREAMING: May 30; RUNTIME: 1 hr. 26 min.
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