‘The Greatest Love Story Never Told’ Review: Jennifer Lopez Learns Love’s Cost in Revelatory Making-Of Doc:

With his unexpectedly intimate chronicle of her $20 million passion project “This Is Me…Now: A Love Story,” documentarian Jason Bergh chips away at the blocks on which Lopez’ pop superstardom was built.
With her ninth album “This Is Me…Now,” Jennifer Lopez promised to be more honest and vulnerable than ever before — a bookend to 2002’s “This Is Me…Then” in which she would “tell her side” of the romances that for decades have been one-dimensionally splashed across the pages of tabloids worldwide. Even as a lifelong fan, I was skeptical just how far back she’d draw the curtain given the meticulous control she’s exerted over her career.

Between the record and “This Is Me…Now: A Love Story,” the hourlong not-a-film-but-not-a-music-video accompaniment released concurrently with it, Lopez conveyed pop emotionality more effectively than true intimacy. But “The Greatest Love Story Never Told,” the third part of her album-cycle media offensive, delivers precisely the revelatory perspective that its counterparts lack. Directed by Jason Bergh, the documentary explores the complicated production of “A Love Story,” in the process exposing a global superstar’s ambitions, responsibilities and insecurities with a merciless but deeply rewarding rawness.

Bergh covers the album itself in about five minutes: Inspired by her reunion with and eventual marriage to Ben Affleck, Lopez conceived “This Is Me…Now” as a chronicle of the romances that led her to the love of her life. To complement that musical expression, she wrote “A Love Story,” a series of music video-like vignettes that could, conveniently, be viewed separately, but will be released together as a cohesive narrative — that is, if someone will pay to do so. After signing a contract with one studio, Lopez learns that the unnamed shingle — and no one else — will foot the bill for musical content, not even from one of the biggest pop stars in the world. “It’s not like anybody was clamoring over the next J.Lo record,” she herself acknowledges.

Lopez subsequently decides to bankroll the project herself — an endeavor which Affleck observes is historically risky in Hollywood. Emboldened by members of her inner circle, including Affleck and longtime manager Benny Medina, she enlists director Dave Meyers (“I’m Real (Remix)”) and begins coordinating the logistics of the most ambitious undertaking of her career.

Affleck expresses trepidations early in the process, particularly after learning that Lopez had shared with her musical collaborators a gift from him — a book collecting all of their correspondence since the beginning of their relationship. But aside from supporting his partner, he understands that she’s doing exactly what artists must: drawing upon their personal lives to fuel their work. That said, he can’t resist playfully ribbing her about the decision to create a protagonist who’s a few years younger than her, the first indication of Bergh’s aim not simply to go behind the scenes but to try and document her life and her relationship with Affleck in a way that no one has ever seen.

The production details themselves are surprisingly candid, starting with the original price tag of $30 million — later trimmed to $20 million after she is forced to finance it herself. Prospective co-stars come and go, such as Anthony Ramos (“In the Heights”), who elects to remain loyal to his pal Marc Anthony, her ex-husband. “I’m not playing me,” she counters. (Invited to play various members of a Zodiac-sign roundtable or her fictional friend circle, Taylor Swift, Jason Momoa and Khloe Kardashian all pass or are otherwise unavailable.) After Lopez reaches out to Jane Fonda, who became her friend after shooting “Monster In Law” together in 2005, the elder headline magnet worries first about putting this album into the world at all, then about whether or not it will be perceived as sincere. “I was so worried about Ben after the Grammys,” Fonda says, referring to Affleck’s seeming grumpiness at the 2023 ceremony, before Lopez reassures her.

When not otherwise choosing between different viscosities of mud or fretting over an inoperable conveyor belt, Lopez unexpectedly lets all of her insecurities hang out — and it is powerful stuff. Reflecting on her reunion with Affleck, she confesses that during their time apart, “I didn’t think much of myself, and so the world didn’t think much of me.” She delves into the relationships with her mother (narcissist) and father (workaholic) that led her to feel so desperate to prove her worth, both personally and professionally. Following the completion of “Rebound,” a sequence in which her character is tethered — sometimes violently — with one on-screen lover, she exhales a cathartic sigh of relief: “I’ve definitely been manhandled … and a couple of other unsavory things,” she admits.

The encouragement Affleck offers her, such as when she’s convinced that the project will be a disaster, underscores both their shared love and her inexperience with the prospect of true failure. It’s obvious she’s never before put herself out into the world with so much at stake, but you also see that it’s precisely because of his support — thoughtful and indefatigable — that she felt confident to attempt it in the first place. That Bergh defines their personalities so distinctly (there’s something perfect and darling about her complete indifference to his excitement about Meyers’ truck full of camera lenses), and yet highlights how well they complement one another, lends profundity to his portrayal of their relationship.

In fact, this nonfiction project’s success in comparison to the showmanship of its cinematic predecessor makes you almost wish that Lopez had decided to combine the pair into one. Though “A Love Story” and “Never Told” were designed to be companion pieces, the emotional weight of the latter deepens the entertainment value of the former. On the other hand, Bergh’s documentary offers a singular account of the creative process — and even the dynamics of celebrity relationships — that a series of “meta” musical interludes might only dilute.

But even if unintentional, “The Greatest Love Story Never Told” remarkably achieves the greatness to which the other two parts of this triumvirate aspire. As the career-long recipient of pervasive and too-often-unflattering media coverage, not to mention the immediate beneficiary of a career-spanning documentary just two years ago with “Halftime,” Jennifer Lopez entered her “This Is Me…Now” era running the distinct risk of overexposure. By harnessing not just the drive that made her a superstar but the fragility (especially personal) inherent in its maintenance, Jason Bergh’s film accomplishes something unexpected: offering audiences a truly new way to look at her.

View this article at Variety.