There’s no doubt that Jeremy Allen White is coming in hungry for that Best Actor Oscar. The campaign to land him among the 2026 nominees is already in full swing — and all we’ve seen is a trailer for Deliver Me from Nowhere! The film is set for an October release, perfectly timed to be buzzing when awards season heats up. But is all the hype justified? I’m torn.
I’ve been a longtime fan of the Boss — Bruce Springsteen. Always have been. But just like many thought Timothée Chalamet was “too pretty” to play Bob Dylan (and let’s face it, Dylan is revered for his genius and complex temperament, not exactly his looks), Jeremy Allen White feels very unlike Bruce to me. I’m not talking about physical beauty — neither one is universally seen as a heartthrob — but energy. Honestly, I could picture Allen as Dylan way more than as Springsteen. Watching the trailer felt like a long episode of The Bear, where the chef is having a breakdown while trying to write an album. Intense, sure, but I don’t see Bruce. That said, considering Springsteen idolized Dylan and wanted to be like him, there’s something poetic in watching both biopics — A Complete Unknown and Deliver Me from Nowhere — as companion pieces.

Directed and written by Scott Cooper (Crazy Heart), the film focuses on the creation of Springsteen’s sixth studio album, Nebraska, widely considered his masterpiece. Released in 1982, it’s one of the boldest, darkest, and most artistically daring records in American music — and that’s exactly why critics adore it. Its acclaim is tied to a series of choices that blend minimalism, intensity, and a literary gaze into the heart of American disillusionment.
Unlike the grand, full-bodied sound of the E Street Band, with whom Springsteen made his name, Nebraska is almost entirely acoustic, recorded at home by Bruce himself on a four-track cassette recorder. Voice, guitar, harmonica, and minimal rhythmic backing create a dry, raw, and intimate atmosphere. Releasing something so stripped-down at the height of his fame was seen as a rare act of artistic integrity.

The lyrics are deeply narrative — telling stories of people on society’s margins: criminals, the unemployed, the lonely, the guilt-ridden. The album opens with the title track, inspired by serial killer Charles Starkweather, and continues to explore themes like crime, alienation, economic despair, and the death of the American Dream. These are almost Steinbeckian characters — fragile, defeated, all-too-human. Critics often highlight the album’s literary quality, comparing it to works by Flannery O’Connor, Raymond Carver, and even William Faulkner.
Nebraska is both a whisper and a scream. A quiet but devastating commentary on American life in the Reagan era. Its sense of collapse — of the working class, of personal redemption, of the myth of success — still resonates. That’s why it became a touchstone for artists ranging from Johnny Cash to Nick Cave, Sufjan Stevens, The National, and countless indie and alt-country musicians. The album’s lo-fi aesthetic helped legitimize home recording long before the home studio boom.

It’s worth noting that Springsteen recorded full-band versions of many of these songs with the E Street Band — but ultimately released the raw demos. That decision, in the middle of the glitzy ‘80s pop explosion, was a powerful statement. It was personal, grim, and uncommercial — and the critics saw it for what it was: artistic courage.
Nebraska is so highly praised because it captures Bruce Springsteen at his most vulnerable — stripped bare, almost confessional — while also positioning him as a storyteller chronicling a nation in moral and economic crisis. It’s not an album made to entertain, but one that makes you think. A milestone of authenticity in American music. That’s why it makes sense to dedicate a whole film to the story behind its creation.
The film is based on Warren Zanes’ 2023 book, which broke away from the usual biopic structure by “not starting before success — but in the middle of it.” Jeremy Allen White reportedly threw himself into the role, working with a vocal and musical training team to capture the spirit and voice of the Boss — with the direct support and blessing of Springsteen himself.

And yet… the trailer feels like a collection of clichés: Bruce in existential crisis, reliving childhood trauma (in tasteful black-and-white, of course), and — inevitably — closing the preview by singing Born to Run on stage. A little on the nose?
Maybe I’ll change my mind. Maybe I’m being too harsh. But when it comes to Bruce Springsteen — especially Nebraska — I can’t help expecting more.
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