“I don't really need to be remembered–I hope the music's remembered.”

It’s Never Over, Jeff Buckley is a gracious and tender ode to the life, love and legacy of the singer-songwriter. The 2025 documentary directed by Amy Berg sinks into you in waves, and is perhaps one of the only truly caring renderings of a famed musician in biographical form.

On the night of the 21st of August, I was blessed with the cinema experience of this documentary at MIFF. Splayed across my seat in a fully booked screening, notebook in hand, eager to engage as much as I could journalistically, yet the only thing I was able to note down was a quote from his mother; “No one has ever loved me more, or better than him”. These words struck me immensely and framed my experience of the documentary and understanding of the legacy it sought to express. I was utterly perplexed for my entire cinema experience, and held onto these words long after stepping outside of HOYTS cinema. They encapsulated Berg’s purpose in making the film; to nurture Buckley’s memory. It was this motherly and feminine lens that drove the film and made it such a devotional ode.

Jeff Buckley is my favourite musician ever. Even though I was born after his time, his music still crept its way into my life. As a teenager, I adored ‘Lover You Should’ve Come Over,’ listening to it over and over again on a CD in my first car. The song is as beautiful as it is tragic, his lyrics are both inspiring and heartbreaking. The earth-moving ballad muses and bemoans its speaker's mistakes. A melancholic splutter, gasping for air, it culminates in one tidal wave of lyrical and orchestral mastery; regret, yearning and desperation. One of the most powerful songs on Buckley’s one and only studio album; Grace (1994), the song's focal lyrics “It’s Never Over,” are the title of Berg's documentary. The song gathers some of the most romantic and desperate cries for a lover now lost; “all my riches for the sweetness of her laughter,” “she’s a tear that hangs inside my soul for ever,” “my kingdom for a kiss upon the shoulder”. His shattering, timeless croon is a surrender to the mortality of a romantic connection. Yet also the immortality of love, what's left behind long after we are gone. Jeff Buckley poured everything of himself into his art, into those he loved and every song was soaked in eternal longing, lust, genius—sensitivity.

It’s Never Over follows Buckley’s traditional quest for fame and artistic expression as he soared to worldwide acclaim, and concludes with his tragic death at only 30 years old. Produced by his mother, Mary Guibert, the documentary at many points reckons with motherhood. It refuses the typical representations of Buckley, depicted as suffering the same fate of a poetic premature death like his fellow musician father, Tim Buckley, who he was often compared to. Working on this passion project for over 15 years, Berg expressed that the documentary was, to her, “a love story about one of [her] favourite artists, told through the people he loved.”

Traversing through his early childhood in California into his emergence as an artist and troubadour in 1990s New York City, the film intensifies the importance of the various women he loved. With his mother being the most important. Imbued so deeply with this feminine voice, it expresses Buckley’s own sensitivity. Berg wanted to be true to who Jeff was and felt that a perspective focusing on women was necessary since he was “such a feminist” and was influenced by and worshiped so many women artists of his time.“I wanted to be Nina Simone,” he echoed in old interview footage. The many vulnerable moments with various ex-girlfriends and close friends, brought out through a delicate and gentle interview process, painted for me a very whole picture of his character, flaws and all. His portrayal was not only dignified, but wholeheartedly captured his artistic innovation, influences, history and his being in such an authentic manner. These interviews were interspersed with photographs, media footage and stunning surrealist animated visuals capturing his elusive mind. It is through this that Berg masterfully knits a graceful love letter, perhaps repairing his loss for those who loved him, fans and family alike.

Buckley's music drives his story, ‘Grace’ released in 1994, truly was a culmination of his entire life in its intimate bleeding of who he was and how he came to be. The film opened with the album's first track ‘Mojo Pin,’ calling us in like flicking on that album for the first time. These songs served to connect to various moments of his life, ‘Dream Brother’, a song about absent fathers was played during a depiction of his childhood and the loss of his father. ‘Lover You Should’ve Come Over’, was used to explore his break up with his ex-girlfriend Rebecca Moore and his infamous cover of ‘Hallelujah’ (originally written by Leonard Cohen) was wielded to encapsulate the height of his fame and musical genius.

Framing it around Buckley’s relationship with his mother seemed to piece together Guibert’s own grief, and Berg really demonstrated a care for the real life people that mattered in Buckley’s life. A young and flawed mother, Guibert expressed, “Jeff and I sort of raised each other,” as she also dreamed of being a performer. It's Never Over, was so unexpectedly kind and quietly harrowing. One final moment that hung with me, was a scene towards the end of the film where Guibert listens to Buckley’s last voice message to her. He had called her to tell her how much he appreciated her as his mother, telling her how beautiful it was that she had created life in this world. At the end of the message he tells her he loves her and through tears she tells his voice that she loves him back. Welcomed into such a devastating moment, the entire cinema was shattered. It reminded us of the importance of the love of a mother, the first woman we all love. I rang my mum right after too.

It’s Never Over is an open wound that implicates the viewer in its beaming reconciliation of our tender parts. Jeff Buckley, his memory and his art was gaping, raw and deeply understood by so many. As I left the cinema that night, I walked home listening to ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ by Radiohead and ‘Save Me’ by Aimee Mann. I couldn’t bring myself to hear his music because its ache would throb in such a different way than before. Two girls on an escalator at Melbourne Central expressed the same observation as I—all the men in the cinema were weeping. We all wept for this beautiful ode to life.

“Music was my mother. It was my father. It was the best thing in my life.”

Jeff Buckley, footage in It’s Never Over: Jeff Buckley, 2025