‘Linda Perry: Let It Die Here’ Review – Capturing The Vulnerability Of An Artist On Screen [Tribeca 2024]

During the Tribeca Film Festival, watching films has become a ritual rather than a job. Every day a discovery pops up, and a new director or artist emerges with a new project that stuns, provokes, or inspires. This happened at a particular moment in this documentary. During the film’s first few minutes, Linda Perry asks herself if she’s the female Bruce Springsteen. Seemingly getting no answers from her audience, a vacant room with an impressive guitar collection, Linda resumes playing her guitar and singing, a single teardrop tattooed underneath her left eye, beautifully capturing the essence of the protagonist in this documentary.

Linda Perry: Let It Die Here follows our country singer, songwriter, and music producer in her most vulnerable moments. As she drives, Perry discusses how she still doubts herself and wonders who she is. That’s the most comforting thought ever captured on screen. To see a woman who knows how to write a record-breaking song for Dolly Parton and Christina Aguilera question her worth and her existence

Stripping away all the glamour and the success, Don Hardy carefully directs his way through a rather worn out, tough subject matter, artists gone softer and less polished. This documentary could have turned to mush or a sappy, dry tale of triumph and disaster in someone else’s hands. But Hardy begs to differ. He sews in the details and the mega-stardom from Perry’s life into her quieter, most vulnerable moments. The two don’t seem to clash as much as they complement each other.

You see Perry guiding major artists, legends like Parton and Aguilera gush about her. Kate Hudson is eager to let her guide her into putting her emotions into a song they’re recording together. How Perry dominates the recording studio, commands attention and submission is fascinating and energized. Perry leans into her subversiveness, allowing it to encapsulate her within an empowering veil.

Perry leans into darker territory, opening up her heart and revealing her troubled past to the audience. Her resilience and love for music are always expressed through funky, slightly psychedelic animated sequences. The film doesn’t lose its glow despite all of that, it remains robust and focused, taking viewers by the hands, lifting off the curtain to give them a behind-the-scenes glimpse of a musician’s life. 

One of the aspects that the director touches upon with sensitivity and versatility is Perry’s home life. She shifts from lady boss in the studio to a warm, all-smiles mother as her son tells her he loves her. That shift in mood and unique feminine ability to gravitate between emotions makes the music icon more compelling to watch, her journey more enriching and layered.

Linda Perry: Let It Die Here doesn’t give answers to Perry’s most complex questions about art and identity. In one scene she breaks down and admits that she doesn’t know what true love means, but Hardy doesn’t let her wallow in that pain.  The documentary does a great job of soothing it instead, polishing the hardships, showcasing the victories, and gently calming the heartbreaks. Her sincere journey of discontent provides freedom of thought and self-expression, not just for her but all the people who watch in awe as she breaks down or manifests herself into pure creative agony.

Linda Perry: Let It Die Here held its World Premiere as a part of the Spotlight+ section of the 2024 Tribeca Festival.

Director: Don Hardy

Rated: NR

Runtime: 93m