Sam Jones makes icons seem normal as neighbors. His first big documentary, 2002′s “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart: A Film About Wilco,” chronicled the making of an decade-defining album at the cost of an Midwestern-dude band’s two main creatives hating each other. Twenty years later, the Jones-directed “Tony Hawk: Until the Wheels Fall Off” showed the countless faceplants a skateboard lord endures to nail newness.

Jones’ latest feature-length doc is about the greatest living songwriter currently ineligible for Medicaid. “Jason Isbell: Running With Our Eyes Closed” (now streaming on HBO Max) is a revelatory glimpse into how and why Isbell makes uncompromising folk, country and rock songs that examine the best and worst of the American South and humans in general.

Isbell’s arc has been told and retold, from yours truly to The New York Times. The Nashville-via-Muscle Shoals tunesmith started out as an overweight outcast in rural Alabama. He found salvation in playing rock guitar with the proficiency of someone a decade older. After joining ragged-glory Southern rock band Drive-By Truckers, Isbell upgraded that band threefold overnight. However, after a few albums he was kicked out of the perpetually hammered Truckers for being too hammered. As a solo artist, Isbell achieved acclaim but didn’t exactly make the sky rain money. On the road, met the love of his life, the talented Texas singer, songwriter and fiddle player Amanda Shires. Nearly blew it. Got sober.

Facing the reality of having to get a day job at a guitar store or something if the next thing didn’t take off, Isbell made a clear eyed and profound album, 2013′s “Southeastern,” that changed his life. Made a string of critic-lathering albums after that, too. Bruce Springsteen became a fan. Isbell won Grammys. And then more Grammys. Wrote a song for a Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper movie. Became an outspoken politically progressive voice on social media and put his mouth where his money was, backing blue candidates in red states. Inversed the Southern Man stereotype in general.

Jones’ “Running With Our Eyes Closed” finds new pages to the Jason Isbell story. The unique joy and friction of being creatively collaborative with the person you’re married to. (Shires, who has a master’s degree in creative writing, is Isbell’s most trusted lyrics editor.) The pressure of topping your last acclaimed album each time you make a new album. The do-or-die way Isbell records, not presenting his new songs to his ace longtime backing band The 400 Unit (Shires, bassist Jimbo Hart, drummer Chad Gamble, keyboardist Derry deBorja, guitarist Sadler Vaden) until they’re in the studio and about to record. The challenges Isbell’s faced growing up with well intending but very young parents. His father Mike Isbell was 18 and mom Angelia Barnett 16 when they got pregnant with Jason. Although Isbell’s later music is built to last, his parents’ marriage unfortunately was not. During filming of the documentary, Isbell and Shires’ own marriage struggled. The couple were creatively brave and honest enough to trust Jones to depict that without sensationalizing it.

The film includes interviews with Isbell’s former Drive-By Truckers bandmate Patterson Hood, who had to fire a soulmate at his nadir. Now 44, Isbell is fit and about a decade sober. He’s successful enough to own a vintage Les Paul guitar worth more than the house I grew up in. Isbell and Shires share an adorable young daughter and idyllic country estate in the Nashville area. But you get the sense watching the “Running” doc Isbell feels he’s one eff-up from losing it all. Especially after watching the doc’s footage of the last gig Isbell did before going to rehab — sloppy on a small stage.

Pivotal scenes in “Running With Our Eyes Closed,” named after a song on Isbell’s 2020 album “Reunions,” focus on Isbell and Shires. Working out songs and a marriage in real time. But the most compelling stuff is what Jones gets out of Isbell’s parents. It’s beautiful, poignant and honest stuff anyone who’s lived enough life will relate to. (Also, Angelia’s cascading locks are on-point.) On a recent afternoon, I checked in with the doc’s director Sam Jones via Zoom video chat from his Los Angeles home. Below are edited excerpts.

Sam, I’ve interviewed Jason Isbell probably 10 or so times over the years. Thought I knew his story well. But after watching your documentary, I understood Jason and his music not just better but much better. Is that your main goal as a documentary filmmaker? To simply uncover new textures or background about a subject like Jason Isbell? Or is that a too basic way to describe it?

Sam Jones: Well, the overall goal, I think, is always to make a film that can be accessible for people who have never heard of the subject before, but also like yourself someone who really knows Jason can still find something interesting and still be engaged. And that was the goal with Tony Hawk, it was the goal of Wilco.

But on this specific film, the goal was to kind of forensically uncover the origins of Jason’s art and how personal they were and how much of his own life he actually used, and to learn about why songwriting connects with me with certain people. And I think that Jason is in that category of people that make me feel like I really know them when I’m listening to them, and I’m connecting to them. And I don’t think you could do that if you’re not honest and if you’re not autobiographical in some way. You know, even if you’re cryptic, like Bob Dylan, I think those sentiments come from autobiographical situations.

And with Jason, the initial thing was let’s find out about his life and see how it connects to his art. And then, as things went on, there was this beautiful, you know, sort of structure that emerged in editing. Speaking to his own parents about their divorce, talking to Jason about his recollections and emotional damage from that divorce and then watching in real time his own marriage starts to show signs of crumbling. When something like that happens, you just try to interpret it the best you can and hopefully the audience will pick up on the subtlety and can go along for the ride.

One of my favorite moments from the Isbell doc is the footage of him as a kid wearing a Black Crowes T-shirt and tearing up the Cream song “Sunshine of Your Love” on a Strat in his bedroom. And that’s mixed with your interview with Jason explaining that beyond music being something he was good at and drawn to, playing his electric guitar was how he’d drown out the sound of his parents arguing elsewhere in their home. Incredible moment.

Thank you, that was a cool find. We got old VHS tapes from his parents, and I don’t know if they’d ever gone through them. We found stuff of like him playing [music] in a park in Alabama but the audio was terrible, but then we came across that one and we’re like, oh, God, there it is right there. It’s exactly what he’s talking about.

Without giving away too much, what are some of your other favorite nuggets your Jason Isbell documentary turned up, whether it’s archival or through interviews?

You know, it was really interesting getting to know Amanda for me, because I think Amanda is a true artist, in that maybe you don’t quite know her yet if you just see her [music] videos and her performances and her style choices and all that. But getting to know her as a human being, she lives the life of an artist, but she’s incredibly sincere and honest and brave.

And so, for me, getting to know her and seeing her stand up for what this documentary could be … Usually it’s just the opposite. It’s like, ‘Oh gosh, my husband’s the subject of a documentary and I gotta make sure to protect him and all of that.’ But I think she challenged him to be honest, or they challenged each other to commit to the sentiment that I originally brought up when I asked them if they wanted to do this. Which is, I just ask that you trust me and let me in all the way and then hopefully I can tell your story, the best way that way.

One of my favorite parts was some of the interviews I did with her by herself. Because I got to know Jason differently. You know, Jason’s been doing this for a long time, and he’s incredibly warm and open and engaging, but I don’t live with him. And, you know, I’m not married to him, and you really know somebody when you get to know him that way. And so Amanda gave us a window into that too. And I love that.

And then I loved seeing the process of songwriting, like “St. Peter’s Autograph [a song of Isbell’s 2020 album “Reunions”]. He didn’t tell me what song it was but the day before I came, I called him and said, “Hey, we’re coming It’s all happening.” I was asking what the songs were like, and he goes, “I got one of those special ones.” He was very excited about it.

Then, five or six days into recording, he did that one. And because the band started trying to play on it, but then they just backed off and listened at first and then found their place, it was so great to be in the studio for that moment of seeing how something like that comes together and seeing an artist play a song for the first time and put it down. I mean, that’s as good as it gets if you’re a music fan.

Creating as opposed to recreating, as Jason says in the film. Sam, early, you touched on the trust involved between the subject and filmmaker on a documentary. When Jason and Amanda are going through a rough patch in their marriage, that’s in the film. And going back to “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart,” your classic Wilco documentary, you captured a lot of inner-band arguments. What’s the key to getting someone to trust you like that?

I don’t know. [Laughs] I think it’s one of those things where, you know, you can be a hundred feet from somebody, and you can tell if they’re looking you in the eye. Think about the perception that our human brain has. That you could tell a fraction of a millimeter difference whether their pupils are focused on your pupils are not, right? So we are very perceptive as human beings, and I think that a lot of that stuff is instinctual — we never think about it.

And I think with trust, we pick up on a thousand different cues from people. We just don’t sit and break them down and examine them. But I think my heart was in the right place making this film, and so all signs pointed to that for Jason, either subconsciously or consciously, that this guy’s here for the right reasons.

And that’s the only answer I could think of for this. Because I don’t have a technique or I haven’t like studied, you know, psychology or Tony Robbins or whatever. [Laughs] I just think that if your heart’s in the right place, you’re doing something for the right reasons, and becomes very clear. Because people aren’t in those aren’t in those situations that often, especially in working relationships. So hopefully, he just picked up on that and went with his gut.

How do you think your filmmaking has evolved from the Wilco do to the Tony Hawk documentary to the Isbell one? And since you started as a still photographer, who do those origins shape what you do now?

Well, I think even as a photographer, I was always trying to tell a bigger story than the picture would allow. I was always sort of running up against the framework of and the limitations of photography. You know, the edge of the frame. If you look at a lot of the work I did over the years as a photographer, I tried for a long time to really tell a whole story in a single frame.

[Before that,] I started out as an editorial cartoonist at my college. And the whole challenge with editorial cartoons, especially in the political spectrum is to is to tell the whole story in one frame. Then my first job as a photographer was with the Associated Press, and the job there was to make one image that was relevant to the greatest number of people because the Associated Press shared their photography and writing with every other newspaper. So, I think I always thought in storytelling terms, even when I was taking pictures.

But I think learning to be a filmmaker, that was just from loving other films. More than loving the films, loving the feeling I got from watching the films. And being a musician and an artist and you know, all the things I do, I think that when you see films about the creative process or about creative people, you get this feeling, and it makes you want to go do it.

So when I did the Wilco movie, I just wanted to have that feeling over and over again that I got when I watched, like, [Bob Dylan documentary] “Don’t Look Back” or [Rolling Stones doc] “Gimme Shelter” of the Glenn Gould documentary [”Genius Within”]. I just wanted to learn how to do that and do it for other people.

Because that’s the greatest thing about being a collaborative, creative person is that you get to share that feeling with other people. And so, at the beginning, it was just trying to feel like I belonged, and trying to, you know, not get kicked out of the room. When you’re first starting a new thing, you’re like, “How are they letting me do this?” [Laughs] And learning on the fly. But that’s sort of how I’ve always done it.

And it’s funny, I would say that with the Jason experience, I still feel that way. I mean, I’d like to say I’ve learned a whole bunch and now I have a system and a plan. And I’m sure I do, but I don’t think in those terms. I think I make more good decisions on the fly because of my experience.

But on the Jason film, when the pandemic hit, trying to figure out how to make a film in those circumstances was a completely new experience. Similar to everyone who had a job and went to an office, and they had to figure out how to do it from home. You know, we had to send Jason a camera and teach him how to use it. It was very strange circumstances, but it kept the film interesting for me, because I had that sort of same fear and that same challenge of, you know, I don’t want to fall on my face here. I want to figure this out. And I think those are the things that, that make me do my best creative work. I think if I’m really comfortable, and I don’t really need to be there, and whatever it is, then, you know, you can’t make your best work under those circumstances.

In addition to the archival footage you dug up for the Isbell doc, the new interviews you did for the project are great too. From Jason and Amanda and the members of Jason’s solo band, The 400 Unit, to his parents to Jason’s former Drive-By Truckers bandmate Patterson Hood. But I was curious was there anyone you reached out to but didn’t get for the film? Like, say, Shonna Tucker, the former Drive-By Truckers bassist and Jason’s first wife? Or Rob Malone, the guitarist Jason replaced in the Truckers? Did you reach out to them, and they declined?

No, it wasn’t that. You know, when you make a film that is encompassing a lot of areas and the focus was the present-day Jason and what he was doing, I wanted to be able to tell the Drive-By Truckers story. But to tell that story properly, it’s all movie. And so I had to make a decision there.

And I definitely reached out and we had more interviews than we used. There are characters that I spoke to that never made it in the film, some who you might guess, and some are out of left field, but they seemed right.

But in the end, the story is the thing that you’re working for. And so with this, we just decided to make Patterson our [Drive-By Truckers era] narrator because he had the closest relationship with Jason and with his family. And so I just made that choice he could tell that the band’s story.

But, gosh, of course, if it was a doc series, he could tell that the band’s story of Shonna and Jason’s marriage and into the story of, you know, the whole first iteration of the band. Because that’s all very interesting to me. But that’s the hardest thing about these films. You can’t tell every story, so you have to decide what it is you’re telling. And I had a lot more stuff in the pandemic, a lot more stuff with [Isbell and Shires’ young daughter] Mercy, a lot of things about his upbringing and his early years learning his musical influences. But a lot of things about his upbringing and his early years learning his musical influences.

The Wilco documentary “I Am Trying To Break Your Heart” really put you on the map quickly as a filmmaker. What’s a cool vivid memory from making that film?

I gotta say the some of the best times were actually not filming but just spending time with those guys. Like, right at the end of cutting the movie I spent about a week at [Wilco singer/songwriter] Jeff [Tweedy]’s house and we stayed up late watching [HBO sketch comedy series] “Mr. Show” and eating jalapeno pizzas. When you go through so much time with somebody and you get to know them and you’re all the same age, that was another cool thing. We were all sort of the same place in our lives with little kids and so you know, memories like that.

But I think also just kind of being in the presence when those songs were being made. And for me, learning to operate a 16-millimeter camera on my shoulder inside the little vocal booth while Jeff did [the recording for the Wilco song] “Camera” or “Ashes of American Flags” or whatever, and just sort of taking it all in.

And being exactly where I wanted to be, at that point in my life, like mixing the things that I love the most, you know, filmmaking and music. You never quite know until something’s over how special it was, and I think that’s one of those experiences.

And it was so low budget. You know, everything about independent films, all the cliches, were all true, just scrapping things together. One night the band played at First Avenue in Minneapolis, and I was the only cameraman there and they were going to do two shows. And so I asked the band to play the same show both nights. And then I physically got their clothing from them after the night one and got it laundered, so they could wear the same clothes. And then I shot a different camera position. So I had a two-camera shoot. Because we didn’t even have a second camera person. [Laughs] That’s how low budget it was. I mean, we were going to Pier 1 and buying $6 light fixtures and putting them up backstage and that kind of stuff. At the time, it just seems just really annoying. And then you look back and it’s like, oh no, that’s what life’s all about.

Last question, in addition to making that Wilco doc, you also shot the now-famous album cover photo for “Yankee Hotel Foxtrot,” the album that documentary chronicled the making of. When you took that picture, did you have a feeling that was the shot? That this photo’s going to become a classic album cover image?

You know, what’s funny is that is that Chicago became a big part of that album, because it felt like a very Chicago record, subject matter wise and everything. And then a lot of Chicago imagery in the film.

So when I went out to shoot for the album, I said, I want to use a lot of Chicago backdrops. And so I took the band out to the Shedd Aquarium and to some other places. But for that particular thing, I actually took one of those tourist boats down the river. That’s the angle that I got that [album cover photo] from.

But it’s funny, I had so much Chicago architecture in that shoot, and Jeff was the one who kind of gravitated towards that particular image. One of those things where you just never know. When two people get together and collaborate, a third thing happens that either one on their own can do. It’s cool.

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