Jadzia79

I was fortunate to see Stop Making Sense in the theater during its recent re-release. I was peripherally aware of the Talking Heads for most of my short life and could probably even tell you the names of the core members if hard-pressed before seeing this film. After it, I was obsessed. I walked out of the theater on unsteady legs with a dazed look on my face. I've never seen anything like it. I don't think anything else like it exists.

Here are just a few things to love about Stop Making Sense:

-During "Life During Wartime" there's a point where everybody is running in place and it looks like a very sick and demented exercise video. Guitarist Alex Weir is especially into this, supplying several karate kicks to punctuate the song.

-Chris Frantz is probably the biggest nerd in rock. When he jumps up and screams "All right!" "The Lord won't mind!" etc. during "Slippery People", it's quite amusing. But you love him anyway.

-Jonathan Demme's brilliant direction and the way he shows the many faces of David Byrne. Sometimes (e.g. "Swamp") Byrne looks downright Hannibal Lecter-esque, other times (e.g. "Slippery People") I found myself wondering how such a gawky, freakish guy can be so darn sexy.

-"Once in a Lifetime", when David Byrne dons Buddy Holly glasses and has spastic conversations with his hand. At one moment he's totally absorbed in himself, then suddenly he's screaming out the words with all the fervor of a televangelist. When he looks up in supplication and says "My God, what have I done?" it's powerful.

-"Heaven," where it's just Byrne and bassist Tina Weymouth. Lovely, intimate, and seamless.

-The little weave thing that Jerry Harrison, Tina and David do at the end of "Found a Job".

-At the end of "Life During Wartime," when Byrne looks out at the audience and says, "Does anybody have any questions?"

-The lamp dance during "Naive Melody".

-The words up on the screen during "Making Flippy Floppy."

-The rapid-fire delivery of the "facts are simple and facts are straight" bit on "Cross-eyed and Painless".

-The extra tracks, and the trailer, and "David Byrne interviews David Byrne".

-The fact that they never show the audience except at the very end, because everybody in the audience is a geek like me and they're not very much fun to watch.

These are just some of my favorites. Every time I see it I find something new to love about it. Once you see it for yourself you'll find your own.

I'll start out by saying that A Prayer for Owen Meany literally changed my life. It is the best book I have ever read. There is none higher. End of story.

That said, I had very mixed feelings when I heard that Mark Steven Johnson was making a movie based on the book. A story this complicated could never be accurately adapted for the screen. My doubts increased when I heard that Irving had had his name taken off of it and all the names had been changed.

Still, curiosity got the better of me and I eventually went to see the film. I'm glad I did. Though not without its shortcomings, Simon Birch is a touching, well-made film that is well worth the ticket price and time.

My chief gripe is Johnson's gratuitous use of scenery. The random New England landscape shots do nothing to further the plot in most cases. I think the swimming scenes are beautifully done, but most of the other shots of leaves, rivers, trees, and mountains are unnecessary.

Oliver Platt is brilliant as always, and plays the role as though it was written for him, even though Irving's physical description of the character differs greatly from Oliver's appearance. Judd and Mazzello give credible performances. Indeed, the evolution of Mazzello's character makes much more sense in the movie than in the book. Finally, Ian Michael Smith is not a very accurate Owen Meany, but he is a wonderful Simon Birch. Indeed, that's what I had to keep reminding myself as I watched the film. It's not Owen Meany. If you keep reminding yourself that the two are separate entities, it becomes possible to appreciate this film as a touching story of faith and destiny.

When thinking about this film, several words come to mind: cliched, contrived, and confusing, to name a few. In most suspense thrillers, the audience finds itself yelling out advice to the main characters, such as "don't go into the basement- the bad guy is there" or "save yourself! don't go back for your cat!" I never did that with this one. It wasn't because the decisions this victim makes are any smarter than any other suspense thriller victim, it was more that I just really didn't care what happened to her. I couldn't feel any sympathy for her because she was so two-dimensional.

Then let's consider the stalker. He is supposed to make the viewer feel creepy just by being onscreen. He is definitely no Anthony Hopkins or Jack Nicholson. Frankly, I've seen episodes of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood" that were creepier. I'm tired of actors who think it is easy to play a psychopath.

This film did have its bright spots, though they were few and far-between. One scene that I thought was very well-done (if slightly preposterous) took place in a church and involved a very cool priest. I can say no more.

I suppose I sometimes demand too much of made-for-TV movies. In all honesty, I'd have to say that "made-for-TV suspense Velveeta" is my favorite genre, and when viewed in its proper context (i.e. on cable at three in the morning), this film is a fine example of its genre.