Bono: Stories of Surrender Review

Cracks in the trust and faith we have in U2 frontman Bono are beginning to show. His longevity as an artist cannot be questioned. He, The Edge, and the rest of the Irish rock group, which rooted itself in punk but found a voice in pop, have provided much in the way of great music. But that was long ago. Twenty years ago, in fact. Bono: Stories of Surrender is Bono as pacifist first, poet second, and person of interest dead last to a series of other pontificating persuasions and passions. Crucifixes on chair seats, black and white aesthetic choices as Bono mounts various kitchenware, his sleeves rolled up as though he means business. He has not meant action, not of worth, since How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb. At least he is trying in this Apple TV+ original. Bono plants himself as the frontman of a one-man show. 

For those who can hack it, the Bono of public life, then this will be a fantastic watch. There is a shallowness to it, a dependency on image and the easy blur of life adapted to the stage, but there is an honesty, too. This is how Bono feels it best to communicate his message, and listening in provides a few golden moments. Andrew Dominick is the ever-reliable director at work here. His work with Nick Cave and Jarvis Cocker, two artists who have previously toed the line between performance art and PowerPoint presentation, is fine preparation for this Bono experience. Warm to it. Give him the benefit of the doubt. as many did when U2 infected iPhones across the globe with their album. Like a Trojan horse but worse for the equipment it is planted on, phones across the globe were filled with soft rock of the ’00s, the digital barbarians of their time. Bono: Stories of Surrender blurs the performance style Bono pulled at with his duo work with The Edge and strips back the layers of Los Angeles’ The Sphere.  

Having Jacknife Lee as the music supervisor is one exceptional pull. Once Dominick, Bono, and the gang pull at the colder layers of the soul, it is hard not to see Bono as a hard worker. He has grafted well, and for long, with lucky support from his loved ones. What comes through this adaptation of his autobiography is the genuine thanks he has for those who stuck by him, for those he lost along the way to a calling he has pursued for decades. Bono is an easy target, not just because the last few U2 releases have been awful, but because he is big enough to seem impenetrable. Bono: Stories of Surrender, rightly or wrongly, gives the impression that the veteran songwriter is bulletproof. Even with the shortcomings, the impassioned talks of what the future may hold, he seems unstoppable.  

Walk through the unforgiving origins, the Catholicism and Protestantism present in the early years, to the strife and struggle of his music career. Bono is, it would seem for many, all too candid. He is keen to be open because he hopes we can learn from his words. Perhaps it is that belief, that desire to speak, which turns people off his work. Bono: Stories of Surrender does well to show Bono as an artist, as a creative who has a deep and constantly evolving understanding of what music can do for people. It does not take long to be won over by Bono: Stories of Surrender, its heartbreaks and haunting moments balanced well by Dominick and the U2 frontman’s desire to show life will offer many walks, some of them not chosen by the traveller.