Noah Kahan: Out of Body (2026)
I have to be honest: I walked into Noah Kahan: Out of Body as something of a neutral party. I've got a genuine soft spot for American folk music, and I don't mind Noah Kahan's work at all. Some of his tracks are genuinely lovely, and there's a real storyteller's instinct in his songwriting that I find appealing. But would I call myself a fan? Not really. So sitting down to watch Nick Sweeney's 2026 documentary, I was curious rather than excited, which is probably the most honest position from which to assess whether a music doc actually works beyond the already-converted.
The answer, as it turns out, is: mostly yes, with a significant caveat.
What Sweeney has assembled here is a genuinely polished piece of work. The documentary moves between two very different worlds with real confidence: the enormous, euphoric scale of Kahan's live shows on one hand, and the quieter, more introspective spaces in between on the other. The backstage footage, the tour bus conversations, the reflective moments where Kahan talks about his Vermont roots and his own bewilderment at the speed of his rise, all of it is handled with care. You come away feeling like you've spent genuine time with the man rather than watched a glorified promotional reel. That's harder to pull off than it sounds.
The film is also admirably candid about Kahan's mental health struggles, and it treats those conversations with appropriate weight rather than using them purely for dramatic texture. There's a real sense of someone trying to process a seismic shift in their life in real time, and those moments give the documentary its emotional backbone. The whiplash of going from relative obscurity to stadium-filling superstardom is something the film captures well, and Kahan himself seems genuinely uncertain about how to wear it, which makes him a more compelling subject than your typical rockstar-on-the-rise portrait.
But here's where the caveat comes in, and it's a big one. If you aren't already a devoted Noah Kahan listener, there are stretches of this documentary where the reverence starts to feel a little suffocating. Music documentaries have always had this problem: they're making a film for an audience that already believes, and if you haven't taken that leap of faith, the endless affirmation of the subject's importance can start to grate. The deep dives into his anxieties and the parade of tour-life moments are deeply moving if you're already singing along on the motorway. If you're not, they occasionally tip into the self-indulgent.
I found myself sitting somewhere in the middle, admiring the craft while feeling slightly at arm's length from the emotion. The filmmaking kept me engaged even when my investment in the subject dipped. That's worth something. Sweeney keeps the pacing tight and the visuals genuinely striking, and there's never a moment where the documentary feels slack or padded, which is a trap a lot of music docs fall into.
Three stars.
If you're a Kahan devotee, bump that up to four without hesitation. You're going to love this. It's everything a fan could want: intimate, warm, ambitious and clearly made with enormous affection for the artist. For everyone else, it's a well-crafted, watchable documentary about a specific moment in one man's career that rewards a certain level of prior buy-in. Worth your time, but go in knowing where you already stand.
Rating: ★★★ | Year: 2026 | Watched: 2026-06-29
Where to watch
Watch in the UK
Stream: Netflix · Netflix Standard with Ads
Physical: Amazon UK · Zavvi
Watch in the US
Stream: Netflix · Netflix Standard with Ads
Physical: Amazon US
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