‘Bono: Stories of Surrender’ Review: Lovely Apple TV+ Doc

Anyone who’s seen the band U2 live knows that their shows are much more than concerts. They’re full-blown theatrical extravaganzas, elaborately staged for maximum dramatic and visual effect.

So it makes sense that when its frontman Bono finally got around to writing his memoir, Surrender: 40 Songs, One Story, he wouldn’t just go on your average book tour. No bland readings and book signings for him — rather, he embarked on an international tour of theatrical venues where he delivered dramatic recitations from the book and, as a bonus, a generous selection of U2 songs dramatically rearranged by frequent U2 collaborator Jacknife Lee and performed by cellist Kate Ellis and harpist Gemma Doherty.

The next step in this synergetic era was obvious — a film of the tour, recorded during Bono’s 2023 multi-day residency at New York City’s famous Beacon Theatre (the same venue where Martin Scorsese shot the 2008 Rolling Stones concert film Shine a Light). But true to form, the result premiering at the Cannes Film Festival before streaming on Apple TV+ later this month is more than just a simple recording of the stage show. Directed by Andrew Dominik (Blonde, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, This Much I Know to Be True) and gorgeously photographed in black and white by Oscar-winning cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt (Mank), Bono: Stories of Surrender is very much a film.

Bono reveals himself here to be as much an actor as a musician, investing his monologue with a theatrical delivery, expressive body language, and the sort of musical intonations with which T.S. Eliot famously recited his poetry. His writing reveals a dramatic flair and propensity for humor that feels distinctly Irish. “These are the tall tales of a short rock star,” he tells the packed audience at the beginning.

“Thank you, I’m still pretending this is a book tour,” he comments after one ovation, acknowledging the fact that most book tours don’t feature the author acting out conversations with other figures — in this case his father, his fellow band members, and even Luciano Pavarotti, all represented by empty chairs. 

He spends much time on his early life, which was marked by such tragedies as losing his mother when he was only 14 years old; she died of an undiagnosed ruptured cerebral aneurysm shortly after collapsing at her own father’s funeral. His father subsequently never spoke of her again.

Bono’s complicated relationship with his da is a principal subject of the piece, which also lovingly delves into his decades-long marriage to his wife Alison, whom he met when they were both teenagers. He also naturally describes the formation of U2 with his schoolmates and with whom he has performed for nearly half a century.

Although he’s widely perceived to be its leader, the band, he takes pains to inform us, is very much a democracy, with each member having an equal say in its decisions. They nearly broke up after the release of their first album, due in large part to his and the Edge’s religiosity, which conflicted with the sort of lifestyle endemic to a successful rock band.

The stage show, written by author and former music executive Bill Flanagan, is not without its humorous moments, such as Bono’s account of Pavarotti unexpectedly showing up with a contingent of journalists in tow to persuade him and his bandmates to perform with him at a concert to benefit the international aid agency War Child. Another amusing story revolves around his father, no fan of the royal family, suddenly melting upon meeting Princess Diana in person. 

The musical interludes — which include gorgeous versions of such songs as “Sunday Bloody Sunday,” “Where the Streets Have No Name,” “Vertigo,” “Desire” and “Beautiful Day,” among others — provide a welcome contrast to the film’s inevitable talkiness. Ditto the kinetic cinematography and editing, which give the proceedings an arresting cinematic quality.