Latest news with #AndrewDominik
Yahoo
04-06-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Doc Talk Podcast: Up Close In Cannes With Bono, Mariska Hargitay, Raoul Peck, Eugene Jarecki And Makers Of Shia LaBeouf Film ‘Slauson Rec'
Celebrity and documentary intersected on the red carpet at the Cannes Film Festival this year with the world premiere of Bono: Stories of Surrender, the film about the U2 frontman directed by Andrew Dominik. The Irish rock star, his wife and two of his kids turned out for the glamorous late-night event on the Croisette, along with Kristen Stewart, Sean Penn, Mariska Hargitay, Imogen Poots, Cannes chief Thierry Frémaux and even the mayor of Cannes. Before the premiere, Deadline's Doc Talk podcast got a chance to visit with Bono to discuss the film, which explores the singer-songwriter's relationship with his father and losing his mother when he was a teenager. Today's edition of the show features our conversation with Bono and makers of other major documentaries that premiered in Cannes, a lineup that includes: More from Deadline 'Bono: Stories Of Surrender': On Irish Fathers & Sons, Processing Family Tragedy & How A Need To Be Heard Propelled A Dublin Kid To Become One Of The World's Biggest Rock Stars What Does The Cannes Film Festival Have Against Documentaries? Netflix Takes A Bulk Of The World On Shih-Ching Tsou's Cannes Movie 'Left-Handed Girl' Eugene Jarecki, director of The Six Billion Dollar Man, his documentary about Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, who tells us why he thinks the film will be 'catnip' for American distributors (he may have said it in jest) Oscar nominee Raoul Peck, who tells us why it was a 'biggie' to get access to George Orwell's published and unpublished work for his documentary Orwell: 2 + 2 = 5 and how the late British author forecast our current politics Hargitay, who unveiled the documentary My Mother Jayne about her late mother Jayne Mansfield, explaining why she felt a sense of shame about her mother's public image before reevaluating her as a person. Slauson Rec director Leo Lewis O'Neil and producer Matt Zien, who discuss their film documenting Shia LaBeouf's stormy leadership of a free theater company in Los Angeles. They offer their theory on what hole the theater project filled in LaBeouf's life, even as running the company seemed to drive the actor over the edge. That's on the latest edition of the Doc Talk podcast, hosted by Oscar winner John Ridley (12 Years a Slave, Shirley) and Matt Carey, Deadline's documentary editor. The pod is a production of Deadline and Ridley's Nō Studios. Listen to the episode above or on major podcast platforms including Spotify, iHeart and Apple. Best of Deadline 2025 TV Series Renewals: Photo Gallery 2025-26 Awards Season Calendar: Dates For Tonys, Emmys, Oscars & More Everything We Know About 'Nobody Wants This' Season 2 So Far
ABC News
02-06-2025
- Entertainment
- ABC News
U2 singer Bono lays his life bare in one-man stage show Stories of Surrender
"All this saving the world, is it really service, duty, righteous anger, or is it just a childlike desire to be at the centre of the action?" Bono wonders backstage at his sold-out, one-man show at New York's Beacon Theater in 2023. "Desire and virtue is a whole dance." What: U2 singer Bono lays bare his life and career in a one-man stage show, part spoken-word and part solo music performance. Starring: Bono Director: Andrew Dominik Where: Streaming now on Apple TV+ Likely to make you feel: Like falling in love with U2 again — if you're a fan Across a 45-year career as a globe-straddling superstar and activist, the U2 singer has danced the fine line between rock 'n' roll icon and enduring public nuisance. He's been both the voice of one of the biggest bands of the late 20th-century and — to some, at least — a blowhard palling around with celebrities and world leaders. But as the new movie Bono: Stories of Surrender shows, there's a complicated, endearingly contradictory man behind the often-outsized public profile; one whose idealism is frequently troubled by self-doubt, and whose pursuit of stardom stems from a past steeped in loss. Filmed over several nights of his New York residency, Stories of Surrender vividly captures Bono's one-man adaptation of his best-selling 2022 memoir, Surrender, translating the book's revealing candour to the stage with the singer's typically self-reflexive humour. As he quipped to Jimmy Kimmel recently: "I play an aging rock star on a massive ego trip." There are no mirror-balls or giant lemons or jumbotrons broadcasting prank calls to The White House, just a starkly lit stage and a few empty pieces of furniture to stand in for key figures in his life — including the rest of U2, who are nowhere to be found. It begins, as many such stories do, with a health scare that prompts a crisis of faith and life evaluation. "How did I get here?" Bono asks, echoing the words of his contemporary David Byrne, after an operation on his "eccentric" heart in 2016. Still, it's hardly a sombre opening: the star is in full-tilt carnival-barker mode, part preacher, part game-show host, a pair of wraparound shades short of his Zoo TV MacPhisto. Bono's brand of ironic bravado, in which every sincere moment is inevitably chased by a self-deprecating shot, will do little to convince detractors who regard him as the epitome of anti-cool. For U2 fans, however, it's a wonderful reminder of just how adept he is with a pithy turn of phrase or ready-made pop graffiti — he's perhaps the only songwriter to land the line "you're turning tricks with your crucifix" on a major motion picture soundtrack aimed at children. Much of Bono's humour appears to originate from his late father, Bob Hewson, a man who looms over the show despite appearing only as an empty chair and a glass of Black Bush whiskey. Playing both father and son, Bono recreates infrequent pub meetings with his Da, who remains hilariously unimpressed with his kid's success (labelling him "a baritone who thinks he's a tenor"), nor his phone calls from Pavarotti (Bono's impression of the Italian opera giant is among the film's funniest moments). Their relationship was complex. After a 14-year-old Bono lost his mother, who collapsed at his grandfather's funeral ("It sounds almost too Irish, I know," he jokes), his father never spoke of her again. Her death haunted almost every aspect of the rocker's life and career. At the very same time, he would meet his future wife, Ali, and the musicians — The Edge, Larry Mullen Jr, and Adam Clayton — with whom he'd rocket to mulleted 80s stardom. The stories of U2's early adventures are invariably charming, as the teenage band fumbles about to land on their signature sound — at one point Bono urging The Edge to make his guitar "sound like an electric drill into the ear". It's Bono's reckoning with fame that proves to be the real revelation, however, as he and his band mates wrestle with their spiritual beliefs in the wake of new-found celebrity. "Fame is currency," Bono reasons. "You wouldn't need charity if the world was just, so — get the cheque." If the humanitarian act borders on Vegas schtick, Bono is the first to admit it. "I am an over-paid, over-regarded, over-rewarded, over-fed rock 'n' roll star," he says in voiceover, commenting on the action. And whenever the self-therapy pauses for a burst of music, it's hard to resist those soaring pipes, still stirring after all these years and audible wear and tear. 'With Or Without You', delivered here in thorny tribute to his wife, remains as sad and gorgeous as ever, while 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' takes on a new, ghostly power in a stripped back, slowed down performance. Meanwhile, U2's 1988 hit 'Desire' emerges as both a pivotal point in the band's career and a key text in Bono's life, tapping into the tension between the sacred and the profane that the band would toy with on 90s highlights Achtung Baby and Zooropa. "For love or money, money, money," Bono sings, throwing theatrical shapes and channelling late-period Elvis. Even 'Beautiful Day' — arguably the beginning of U2's long decline into musical irrelevance — becomes a moving elegy for the dead, as Bono teases out the melancholy beneath the song's radio-friendly chorus. It's a lovely moment, a tribute to those we've lost and to all the strange little things that somehow keep us going along the way. Haters will burn with renewed fire, but if you've ever had a soft spot for U2, Stories of Surrender may just make you fall in love with them all over again.
San Francisco Chronicle
01-06-2025
- Entertainment
- San Francisco Chronicle
Can a rock star also be humble? Bono's ‘Stories of Surrender' will surprise you
Reading Bono's 2022 memoir ' Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story,' you might be struck by an intriguing juxtaposition: For a rock star often accused of harboring a messiah complex, this guy also, somehow, seems admirably humble. That same spirit guides the new performance documentary 'Bono: Stories of Surrender,' adapted from the U2 leader's one-man stage show inspired by that book. Given stark cinematic life by director Andrew Dominik, the film — which streams on Apple TV+ starting Friday, May 30, after premiering at the Cannes Film Festival earlier in the month — features paradoxes worthy of its subject. It is both stripped-down and grandiose, over-the-top and understated. 'Stories of Surrender' was shot before an adoring live audience at the Beacon Theatre in New York and enhanced with filmic touches provided in post-production. While it sometimes struggles with the transition from stage to screen, it ultimately succeeds due to its star's unassuming charisma and effortless storytelling. 'It is preposterous to think others might be as interested in your own story as you are,' the Irish rock star, born Paul David Hewson, tells his audience from the stage. But we know that he knows his story is worth hearing, and it's clear that he relishes the opportunity. That story is about a rebellious Dublin teen who at 14, his mother, Iris, dies from an aneurysm, and his already-reticent father (or 'the da,' as Bono consistently calls him) grows even more distant. Under the sway of punk acts like the Ramones, dreaming of forming his own band, young Paul rounds up some friends — Adam Clayton, Larry Mullen Jr. and the Edge — and, through force of will and talent, make the climb from sparsely populated pub gigs to sold-out stadiums. At only 86 minutes, 'Stories of Surrender' makes no pretense of telling the full Bono story. But it picks its spots with artful precision and with keen cinematic instincts. Dominik (2007's ' The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford ' and 2022's ' Blonde ') and cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt use black-and-white imagery shot with chiaroscuro lighting to set an intimate but poetic tone. At times we see multiple Bonos talking to each other. The occasional blast of pyrotechnics tends to be muted. The music itself is presented with a minimalist touch. Music supervisor Jacknife Lee, working with cellist Kate Ellis and harpist Gemma Doherty, provide the backbone, with the occasional prerecorded blast of a familiar anthem. The songs provide autobiographical background and heft, as when Bono recalls the sense of purpose and thrill that came with belting out 'Pride (In the Name of Love)' at the 1985 Live Aid benefit concert — then notes ruefully that the $250 million that concert raised for Ethiopia was a mere drop in the bucket of the country's desperate need. Wearing a suit jacket, pinstriped vest and beads, Bono uses empty chairs and spotlights to recreate key moments of his tale. Three simple kitchen chairs placed in a row represent Clayton, Mullen and the Edge as the aspiring rock stars who try to piece together what would become the early hit 'I Will Follow.' More poignantly, Bono sits in a plush lounge chair as he imagines the pub conversations he used to have with his father, who would begin every conversation with the same question: 'Anything strange or startling?' One day, well into U2's run of stardom, the son decides to turn the question on the father, only to receive the devastating news that the old man has cancer. 'Stories of Surrender' is a disarming portrait of a self-aware megastar with an authentically personal demeanor, the kind of guy you might want to join for one of those pub conversations. If you do think Bono has a god complex, he comes across here as someone eager to sit down, laugh about it and perhaps tip a couple of pints.
Forbes
30-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
‘Bono: Stories Of Surrender' Is Now Streaming – How To Watch U2 Singer's Documentary
Bono in "Bono: Stories of Surrender." Apple TV+ Bono: Stories of Surrender — a documentary featuring U2 frontman Bono — is new on streaming. Directed by Andrew Dominik, Bono: Stories of Surrender held its world premiere on May 16 at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival in the South of France. The official summary for the documentary reads, 'Bono: Stories of Surrender is a vivid reimagining of Bono's critically acclaimed one-man stage show, Stories of Surrender: An Evening of Words, Music and Some Mischief… As he pulls back the curtain on a remarkable life and the family, friends and faith that have challenged and sustained him, he also reveals personal stories about his journey as a son, father, husband, activist and rock star. 'Along with never-before-seen, exclusive footage from the tour, the film features Bono performing many of the iconic U2 songs that have shaped his life and legacy.' Bono: Stories of Surrender is now streaming exclusively on Apple TV+. Viewers must subscribe to the streaming platform to watch the documentary. Apple TV+ offers ad-free programming, which costs $9.99 per month after a seven-day free trial. Bono: Stories of Surrender to date has received a 76% 'fresh' rating from Rotten Tomatoes critics based on 29 reviews. The RT Critics Consensus and Popcornmeter score is still pending. Among the top critics on RT who give the documentary a 'fresh' rating is Owen Gleiberman of Variety, who writes,' Watching [Stories of Surrender], you come away knowing a great deal about Bono, feeling like you've touched his soul a bit, and that's mostly a captivating journey. But you're never convinced that he's on a mission larger than the song of himself.' Steve Pond of The Wrap also gives Bono: Stories of Surrender a 'fresh' rating on RT, writing, 'It's bombastic, extravagant and melodramatic at times – but I don't use those words as pejoratives, because in the hands of Bono and Dominik, it's also pretty glorious.' Bono: Stories of Surrender also earned a 'fresh' review from Peter Bradshaw of the Guardian, who writes on RT, 'It's a confident, often engaging mix of music and no-frills theatrical performance, with Bono often coming across like some forgotten character that Samuel Beckett created but then suppressed due to undue levels of rock'n'roll pizzazz.' Kyle Smith is one of the top critics on RT who gives Bono: Stories of Surrender a 'rotten' review, writing on RT, 'If Bono is melodramatic, Mr. Dominik is an enabler.' Tim Robey of the Daily Telegraph (UK) also gives the documentary a 'rotten' review, noting, 'Bono may be his own worst enemy in the one-man show Stories of Surrender, but only just. His second worst is Blonde director Andrew Dominik, who has turned it into a more excruciating film than you might even have surmised.' John Nugent of Empire Magazine also slammed Bono: Stories of Surrender, writing in his 'rotten' review on RT, 'Strictly-for-fans-only. Bono is a charismatic chronicler of his own life, but the self-conscious storytelling concept is a harder thing to stomach for non-enthusiasts.' Bono: Stories of Surrender, featuring U2 singer Bono — whose real name is Paul David Hewson — is streaming exclusively on Apple TV+.
Extra.ie
27-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Extra.ie
Film Review: Bono
Bono talking. That familiar voice opens over a blank screen. 'It is preposterous to think that others might be as interested in your own story as you are.' Is he being disingenuous? Surely Bono knows better than anyone that people are interested in and even fascinated by his story – and that's probably as true of the league in the wings with slings and arrows at the ready as it is for admirers. U2's last three albums have been all about telling their story, and even the Vegas residency looked into the past, albeit in the most futuristic way imaginable. More specifically, they've been telling Bono's story with songs like 'Cedarwood Road' and 'Iris'. Maybe it was the brush with mortality, coming at an age when looking back is the natural inclination. Maybe it's the lingering aftershocks of the loss of his father. Or maybe it's even a deliberate clearing of the decks before the new album they keep talking up finally arrives. Whatever the reason, we've had Bono's big book, then the audiobook, the backwards glance of the Songs Of Surrender do-overs, and the solo 'book tour' – so now here's the movie of the tour of the book. The Stories Of Surrender jaunt started in New York's Beacon Theatre in November 2022, made several stops across America and then came to Europe, including Dublin's Olympia Theatre. I offered up my immortal soul for a ticket, but there were no takers. Turned out I was diagnosed with COVID the day of the show. Would I have kept schtum and gone anyway, putting the health of Ireland's glitterati, which had just reminded me I wear the wrong trousers, at risk for the sake of a rock n' roll show? We'll never know. Bono returned to The Beacon for a six-night run (where most of this film was shot) and then finished up at the Teatro San Carlo Napoli in Naples, more of which anon. Filmed in glorious monochrome by director Andrew Dominik, because as U2 discovered around the time of Rattle & Hum, everything just looks better in black and white, Bono: Stories Of Surrender is populated by the ghosts of both the living and the dead as the man in the shades confronts the past to take him back to his present. He nearly turned fully incorporeal himself back in 2016 and speaks candidly about the heart problem that could have closed up the shop. He's back on the table in Mount Sinai Hospital, having his (war) chest opened up to save his life. He can't breathe. He calls the names of his God, but for the first time, his God isn't there. How did he get here? Look at that bare table and the chairs that, apart from some fancy, if subtle, lighting, which is still a long way from Vegas, constitute the set. Who does that remind you of? There's a distinct bang of Beckett, with Bono as Krapp listening back to his old tapes, and then there's the influence of the man Friday. Speaking to me for this magazine, Gavin Friday (who is there in the end-credits as the show's creative director and, no matter what they're paying him, a raise should at least be considered) said, 'Give me a bentwood chair, a bulb, a cigarette and a microphone and that's theatre.' Friday employed it in Vicar St last month, and Bono has taken his old friend's maxim to heart, using the sparse furniture to great dramatic effect throughout this theatrical, musical memoir/confession. 'The most extraordinary thing about my life is the people I'm in relationships with,' he tells us, and the chairs fill in for those people who aren't there. There's the ghost of his mother, Iris, scolding him for making a show of himself when that's all he wants to do with his life, who enters and never leaves. Her name wasn't spoken in the house that became an opera after she died, the house where older brother Norman threw the young Bono a lifeline, a guitar, another voice to pray with, which lead to his first proper song, written on his 18th birthday, 'Out Of Control' – and the realisation that he could do this. There's the rest of U2. The suspicious Larry Mullen, who, when he loves, loves completely. Adam Clayton, a true rock n' roller who had everything even when he couldn't play. And the genius of The Edge, who, apparently, used to go for walks with a young Alison Stewart. Another reason to keep an eye on him. The best 'band' scene is the creation of 'I Will Follow' where Bono takes the Gibson Explorer off The Edge and starts making sounds. Go on, says Edge, I'm not sure I like it, but go on. Edge takes it back and turns Bono's graffiti into 'Some fuckin' Raphael Mother and Child' while Larry and Adam are burning down the gallery. Playing just a snatch of the original recording is masterfully effective. 'What a complete fucking eejit I was,' Bono admits and calls this his quarter man show because he knows he'd be just another drowning man without the other three. And there's the other band, The Jacknife Lee Ensemble, who take the music of U2 and reshape it around a never more exposed Bono, whose voice is at just the right soulful and expressive juncture to handle it. While every track hits in a way that Songs Of Surrender only promised to, there are stand-outs. The beautiful harp on 'Sunday Bloody Sunday' ('religious art meets The Clash' and 'a way forward for U2'), and 'Pride', the song that allowed Bob Geldof to forgive Bono for the mullet, as if he can talk, and secured them a Live Aid slot that changed everything, morphs into the soulful prayer that it always really was. It reminds me of John Legend's version, recorded, appropriately enough, for a History Channel celebration of Martin Luther King. It's also worth mentioning that the stately 'rehearsal' version of 'The Showman,' which plays over the end credits, all plucked cello double-bass and finger-snaps, knocks the take on Songs Of Experience into the bin. There's Paul McGuinness, asking his baby band if their God wants these young men in doubt to renege on legal contracts. And there's Alison Stewart, the girl he asked out the same week he joined U2 and the woman who wrote part of this story, suffered the 'selfishness implicit in the desire to be great at something', saw to him by seeing through him, and knew what he had before he even had his name. There's even a revealing, fourth wall-breaking section where Bono's ego is placed in the chair for examination. Is all this saving the world carry-on just a child-like desire to be at the centre of attention? Well, yeah, probably. Will such an admission silence his critics? No, but it shows an awareness of what drives the Bono Is A Pox crowd demented. Bono spoke of 'competitive empathy' with Brendan O'Connor on RTÉ over the weekend ('I feel this wound more than you!') and while it's a valid point, his relative silence – until the Novellos – over Gaza and his acceptance of a medal from Joe Biden at the worst possible time did not make for good optics. 'I'm used to this,' he told O'Connor, so in one way it might be water off a duck's back – but here, and remember this was recorded some time ago, he offers another answer to his detractors. He's aware of his hypocritical status, the over-compensated rock star telling others what to do, but in the end, 'What does it matter? Who cares? Motives don't matter. Outcomes matter.' Will this bring the anti-Bono brigade over to his side of the fence? Not a hope, but again, he's got a point. Floating above it all, however, is the ghost of Bob, Bono's Da, whispering in his ear. Like every son since Cain and Abel, Bono sought his father's approval and understanding, and when he didn't get it, he sang louder, which in the end gave him the life he has, so he owes him thanks for that at least. Armchairs represent the Sorrento lounge in Finnegan's Pub out in Dalkey, where father and son would meet up, although they'd mostly sit in silence. 'Anything strange or startling?' the father might ask. 'How about Pavarotti calling the house?' Bono offers, thinking that surely a call from the great man would impress this lifelong opera fan. 'Why would he be calling you, did he get a wrong number?' 'Pavarotti wants me to write him a song, now who's the fuckin' eejit?' There's an undercurrent of potential violence in that last line, something every father and son who ever butted heads, i.e. all of them, will understand. 'He is,' replies Bob, defusing the situation. Bono takes Bob to Modena, and there's a gas encounter with Princess Diana where 800 years of oppression disappear in 8 seconds. Back in Dublin, Bono wonders if the son is starting to make sense to the father. 'I wouldn't go that far,' says Bob. 'But I heard your song 'Pride' on the radio and I may have felt some.' Just when Bono feels his father might be giving up some answers, he gives him the slip by dying, and there's the realisation that comes from imagining this story from his father's perspective. Maybe he was protecting his son all along by telling him not to dream because dreams, in most cases, only lead to disappointment. You realise too late that your father was your friend. The film ends in the aforementioned Teatro San Carlo Napoli in Naples. The Bay of Sorrento links back around to Finnegan's lounge. Bono's Father had left one of his favourite melodies to haunt his son, 'Torna A Surriento', Come Back To Sorrento, a Neapolitan song sung by everyone from Caruso to Pavarotti. You can hear its melody at the start and at the end when Bono belts it out unaccompanied, the baritone having finally become a tenor, as a hymn to him. You know it even if you think you don't, because Doc Pomus and Mort Shuman adapted it for one of Elvis Presley's best-selling singles back in 1961, before Bono was even a year old. What did they call this song, which connects rock n' roll and opera and The Boy with The Bob, the reason the opera is in him in the first place? Surrender.
