There are two Bruce Springsteens in Scott Cooper’s volatile new biopic, Springsteen: Deliver Me from Nowhere . At times, we might wonder if one has ever met the other. The first is a silent, troubled, closed-off young artist almost too eager to fence himself in. This Springsteen rents a home in the woods of Colts Neck, New Jersey, and effectively barricades himself into a bedroom where he obsessively watches Terrence Malick’s Badlands on a loop and feverishly writes the anguished songs that would form his seminal 1982 folk album, Nebraska . For all its bleakness, the music itself, a dark heartland murmur, still has a fearsome sense of possibility: Springsteen composes lyrics about highways and loners, all-night drives and lovers on the run. It’s ironic, perhaps, that he must enclose

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