In 2011, Avicii, whose real name was Tim Bergling, took the world by storm with his groundbreaking hits, breaking records and wowing audiences with his infectious electronic dance music. Then, in an instant, it was all over when Bergling took his own life in 2018. This documentary charts Avicii’s meteoric rise to fame and his sudden death through never-before-seen tour footage and behind-the-scenes glimpses into his creative process.

Not all documentaries have to be complicated. Nontraditional stylistic approaches to documentaries, serious or not, can lead to some of the best the medium has to offer, whether the film in question is “Dick Johnson is Dead” or “Kokomo City.” Yet there has been much complaining about the incessant cinematic propensity to churn out films that follow a celebrity’s life from cradle to grave on an assembly line that cares nothing beyond what viewers can already find in a quick perusal of Wikipedia. That doesn’t even include documentaries co-produced by the protagonist and therefore made in his image. “Rose-colored” is too mild a term to describe the glasses through which they are conceived.
Director: Henrik Burman
Writer: Henrik Burman
Stars: Avicii, Aloe Blacc, Chris Martin
Henrik Burman’s “Avicii – I’m Tim” is something of an exception to the rule. In charting the life and achievements of Tim Bergling (the Swedish DJ known to anyone who has listened to music in the past 10 years as Avicii), Burman’s film does, in fact, follow the tired cradle-to-grave formula that has overshadowed projects of a similar kind in the recent past (Bergling tragically committed suicide in 2018 at the age of 28). But what this documentary possesses that hundreds of others lack is a rare sense of soul. It doesn’t rely on personal interviews with journalists who are considered the foremost authorities on an artist’s career, but instead places emphasis on industry personalities and especially close friends of Bergling, with the two often crossing paths.
More than any other, to the film’s ultimate credit, we hear from Bergling himself. It’s evident that Burman and company were working with Avicii’s team on some sort of documentary for years before his death, but “I’m Tim” employs a wealth of behind-the-scenes archival footage of Bergling’s rise that was clearly shot in an effort, from the moment he pieced together the beat for his first hit, “Levels,” to the moment something clicked inside him that led to a shift in his sound and taste. We see Bergling working with artists like Chris Martin (he produced Coldplay’s “A Sky Full of Stars”), Dan Tyminski, who lent his vocals to “Hey Brother,” and Aloe Blacc, who sings on “SOS” and Avicii’s biggest sensation, “Wake Me Up.” This footage is interspersed with interviews with said artists, as well as conversations with some of Bergling’s closest personal confidants, like his longtime manager, Arash “Ash” Pournouri, and nightclub promoter Jesse Waits, who became like a brother to Bergling over their years-long friendship.
Most notably, we hear Bergling discuss his complicated relationship with fame and his struggles with mental health. He’s mostly heard in voiceover, noting that he never felt like a big artist or producer, but rather a person “full of music.” You can see that mindset in his early performances, in particular; Bergling, who often wore an Atlanta Braves or Oakland Athletics cap for the “A” logos on the front, often wore plaid button-down shirts you could get at Kohl’s on clearance while performing at EDM festivals like Miami’s acclaimed Ultra. While his fans sported form-fitting neon suits, the artist known as Avicii looked like he was about to accept an award for academic excellence at his high school.
Such habits make it clear that Avicii was simply a mask for the man called Tim, the artist who served as an alternate personality, not something he would consider an outlet. A friend recalls that “Tim and Avicii didn’t get along very well for a long time,” almost as if the DJ inside was a Venom-like syndicate that craved control of the man’s body and soul. Tim himself says, “I didn’t like [having] to be Avicii and then [having] to be Tim… I didn’t even enjoy making music then.” It's heartbreaking, an internal struggle that doesn't at all deserve to be considered the price of fame.
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