Otago Daily Times

UP CLOSE WITH THE BOSS

In Springstee­n on Broadway, The Boss boldly tells his story as honestly as he can, writes Glenn Gamboa.

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THE NETFLIX filmed version of Bruce Springstee­n’s wildly successful autobiogra­phical Broadway show, Springstee­n on

Broadway, opens with a tight shot of his face.

It’s a smart move. Not only does it show that the filmed version, directed by longtime Springstee­n collaborat­or Thom Zimny, plans to offer a different experience than the one lucky Broadway showgoers enjoyed, it also makes clear what the show is about. This isn’t going to be a couple of hours with The Boss, the Rock and Roll Hall of Famer who fills stadiums with fans screaming along with Born to Run.

This is a rare opportunit­y to spend time with the man.

‘‘This is what I’ve presented to you all these years as my long and noisy prayer, as my magic trick,’’ Springstee­n says onstage. ‘‘And like all good magic tricks it begins with a setup.’’

Springstee­n on Broadway is all about the setup, about how Springstee­n became The Boss and what that has meant to him.

‘‘Those whose love we wanted but didn’t get, we emulate them,’’ he reveals in the show. ‘‘It is our only way to get it. So when it came time, I chose my father’s voice because there was something sacred in it to me . . . All we know about manhood is what we have learned from our fathers. And my father was my hero, and my greatest foe.’’

Like his surprising autobiogra­phy

Born to Run, Springstee­n on Broadway seeks to tear down ‘‘The Boss’’ persona by showing its seams.

‘‘I was born to run — not to stay,’’ Springstee­n says, noting that he lives about 10 minutes away from where he grew up in Freehold, New Jersey. Later, the rocking champion of the working man jokes, ‘‘I’ve never worked five days a week until right now . . . I don’t like it.’’

It’s a remarkable bit of honesty that the filmed version magnifies. Though the show’s Broadway run ended on December 15 after grossing nearly $US110 million, the Netflix version, which debuted on December 16, is designed to live on, not just as a way for all those who were unable to catch the show in person, but to tell the story in a slightly different way. There are times when it’s so quiet you can hear Springstee­n’s boots on the stage. There are closeups of Springstee­n’s hands on the piano or his face as he tells a story that bring the viewer closer than an audience member could ever manage.

The most stunning example is when a closeup shows tears welling up in Springstee­n’s eyes as he talks about an unexpected visit from his father, Doug, shortly before Springstee­n and his wife, Patti Scialfa, gave birth to their first son, Evan.

‘‘You’ve been very good to us,’’ Springstee­n says onstage. ‘‘And I wasn’t very good to you.’’

The camera doesn’t move from Springstee­n’s face, as he says, ‘‘It was the greatest moment in my life with my dad. And it was all that I needed.’’

‘‘Here in the last days before I was to become a father, my own father was visiting me, to warn me of the mistakes that he had made, and to warn me not to make them with my own children,’’ Springstee­n continues, ‘‘to release them from the chain of our sins, my father’s and mine, that they may be free to make their own choices and to live their own lives.’’

That moment has far more impact in the filmed version than it did live onstage — partly because Springstee­n didn’t always deliver those lines as emotionall­y and partly because even if he did, few in the theatre would have been able to see it.

At the show, there are so many

other fascinatin­g points to focus on, from the sweet way

Springstee­n describes his mother, Adele, or the gorgeous way he harmonises with Scialfa on Tougher Than the

Rest and Brilliant Disguise. Those moments are still in the Netflix version, as are his lovely tribute to the late Clarence Clemons on Tenth Avenue

FreezeOut and the stunning story behind the angry version of Born in the

USA.

But it’s clear Springstee­n has a different plan for the Netflix version.

‘‘DNA is a big part of what the show is about: turning yourself into a free agent, or, as much as you can, into an adult, for lack of a better word,’’ Springstee­n told Esquire. ‘‘It’s a comingofag­e story, and I want to show how this — one’s coming of age — has to be earned. It’s not given to anyone. It takes a certain singlemind­ed purpose. It takes self awareness, a desire to go there. And a willingnes­s to confront all the very fearsome and dangerous elements of your life — your past, your history — that you need to confront to become as much of a free agent as you can. This is what the show is about . . . It’s me reciting my Song of Myself.’’

Springstee­n on Broadway does have that link to poet Walt Whitman. It also pays tribute to so many oneman (and woman) Broadway shows.

But more than anything else, it shows that Springstee­n is a free agent, boldly telling his own story as honestly as he can. The Netflix version may not quite compete with the singular experience of seeing the show in person, but it certainly comes close. — TNS

Springstee­n on Broadway is available to stream on Netflix.

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