Stop Making Sense

Before I saw Stop Making Sense I had never been particularly concerned with The Talking Heads, or lead-singer and solo-artist David Byrne. Indeed, I had always been a fan of certain songs, such as "Burning Down the House" and "Psycho Killer", but I had never actually spent time becoming acquainted with the band's music on the whole. However, Stop Making Sense was something I was desperate to view, due to the substantial amount of praise that had been garnered over the years since its release. Now it is safe to say that The Talking Heads rank among my favourite bands, thanks to this masterpiece of musical art.

Essentially, Stop Making Sense is a showcase of the band's collected works. Throughout the 90-minute running-time the concert simultaneously covers the back-catalogue of The Talking Heads, through fluid, non-stop vibrancy. From "Found a Job" and "Take Me to the River" the work is merely a sample of the group's ability to provide some of the most engaging live shows ever recorded. To say that the film is "original" would be an understatement, given that the title still rings true today. Stop Making Sense defines the band's abilities, attitudes, styles and motifs. The New Wave approach the film takes is stylistically engaging to such an extent that it is virtually impossible to draw your eyes away from the screen. Minimalist set-pieces move along with the mood of the music at such a rate that much of the picture feels like a kaleidoscope of blistering sound and trancelike imagery.

David Byrne is the key constituent; bestowing his stage presence, creativity and musical proficiency. His stage dynamics are let loose during Stop Making Sense. The infamously over-sized business suit donned by David Byrne is otherworldly, just like the viewing experience, which transports you into a deep-seated, vivacious trance. Yet it is the suit which distinguishes the work completely. The fact that a regular item of clothing can have the ability to make the wearer seem out-of-proportion and disfigured is both mystifying and captivating. Even more bizarre is that the suit seems to grow relatively larger as the concert progresses. Personal interpretation could be that the suit is an implicative metaphor for the irony of the business world or conformity; on the other hand it could just be about not making sense.

Academy award winning director Jonathan Demme does not just "get the gist of The Talking Heads". Instead he is able to comprehend the themes of the band's work from an unmistakably refined tone that he captures through his direction. The irregularity of the group may be hard for some viewers to swallow, but that can be expected from a group which make music of an acquired taste. As for the choreography, it seems there is none, since the musicians all behave in a volatile and limitless manner. The progressively shifted set-pieces convey the altered reality that you have become apart of, and are an extraordinary example of unbound craftsmanship. Stop Making Sense ultimately displays the band's antics from their perspective; this is due to the extended takes of the performers and the lack of audience shots (the fans can only be seen during wide shots or when the camera moves behind the performers). There are even moments where the viewer effectively becomes apart of the band. A prime example of this manoeuvre is when the camera swings behind drummer Chris Frantz and faces the audience during the rendition of "Thank You for Sending me an Angel."

Characteristically speaking it is hopeless trying to describe the feeling you receive while viewing Stop Making Sense. This is because when seen and heard the mind becomes so fixated with the audacious madness of the piece that every viewer will react differently. Personally, this is the concert which I would irrefutably name as the finest ever recorded, maybe you will too.

This concert/movie is simply a brilliant collaboration of music and film. First off, you have the Talking Heads, perhaps one of the most creative and interesting bands in the history of music who put on a concert that is so imaginative that I still cannot believe it happened. Second, you have veteran Director Johnathan Demme who brings the darkness and creepiness that he used in such films as Silence of the Lambs and Philadelphia, to a concert with sort of a dark and creepy demeanor, i.e. David Byrne in general, the style of music, the dancing. I mean dark and creepy in a good way however. I cannot help to think that this movie is also a comedy. David Byrne's movements, the bass players dancing, the songs and just everything i get a kick out of. I have always been a big fan of the Talking Heads, but after seeing this movie, my love for them skyrockets. They are a unbelievable band with an imagination that rivals that of the likes of Shel Silverstein and the Cohen Brothers. I could literally go on and on about how brilliant this movie is. I think the next time i watch it, i may actually get up and dance. I only wish that I could have been at the actual show. I also cannot figure out what I like better, The Last Waltz or this. Shame on anybody who badmouths this movie or the band in general. See this and then see it again and again and again. 10/10

Stop Making Sense is the kind of concert film that gets you pumped up for the Talking Heads even if you're not that huge a fan. I love a few of their songs- Take Me to the River, Burning Down the House, Psycho Killer most of all- but I never really "got in" to them at a younger age, mostly because I knew them from classic rock radio. What Jonathan Demme as director presents with his film of their concert in 1984 is to energize fans and casual listeners to their presence and power and just plain f***ing fun. The main force behind the group, singer/guitarist David Byrne wears suits 10 times too big, runs laps around the stage (while also having back-up singers jogging in place as well), and creates crazy pop-culture and avant-garde imagery on behind them on a screen. It's madness, but it's also alive in performance and song all the way.

Maybe one or two songs might not totally click or may sound a little, well, dated (it was the 80s after all, no longer the folks from CBGB's), but there's constantly memorable moments, including the opening take on Psycho Killer, the building-block form from song to song as band members join one by one until it's a good dozen players and singers all in the mix, and with the imagery that Demme and DP Jordan Crenowith create. For the most part it's (perfectly) straightforward film-making... but here and there we see real artistry break through, shadows cascading the figures playing, the juxtaposition of Byrne in that suit flopping around, moving around seamlessly between musicians. It's the kind of craftsmanship that looks like it should be easy enough with a good few cameras, yet probably took as much prep work as Scorsese had on the Last Waltz.

So, take in all of the 80's New-Wave mood (and, make no mistake, it's VERY 80's New Wave, but probably in the best and most experimental sense imaginable), take in pretty much all of the classic Talking Heads numbers (there's one I forget the name of that's especially chilling with the chorus a series of 'ya-hay-hay-hay-hay-hay's' from Byrne in marching formation). It's probably one of the best modern concert films.

At the beginning of the greatest concert movie ever made, we follow a pair of sneakered feet to down center of an empty stage. A voice says "I've got a tape I want to play." We pan up to a thin, nervous-looking man with an acoustic guitar and a boom box. The box starts playing a beat. The man's hand hits a jangling chord. And for the next hour and a half, as the scenery slowly builds around this skinny misfit, we sit transported.

Talking Heads were unquestionably a seminal band in the New York punk/new wave scene. Yet before seeing this film I had little idea of who they were, and even after seeing it I would not necessarily put them on a top ten list. Nonetheless, through a combination of front man David Byrne's charisma and stagecraft, Jonathan Demme's taut, precise filmmaking, and the infectious heat of the music, Stop Making Sense remains the most enthralling and sheerly entertaining rockshow ever. The keening melancholy of "Heaven", the stripped-down mystery of "Once in a Lifetime", the dark funk of "Girlfriend is Better" -- there's simply no duds here. And Byrne works his butt off. He seems to have energy to spare; during one number he simply jogs circles around the stage, as though he needs further exercise. His teammates Tina Weymouth, Chris Frantz, Jerry Harrison, and (eventually) a host of backup singers and musicians click into that energy without a stumble.

This isn't raw work-- clearly this is a conceived film, with defined emotional beats and even a sort of intuitive narrative. And like any band, Talking Heads have a specific sound and style that (I suppose) won't appeal to everyone. But who? I've shown this film to at least three people who never heard of the band before (except through dim memory of early MTV), and even claimed to hate concert movies-- and then they went and bought the soundtrack.

What can I further say? This is a record of performance that cannot be matched. If you like music, at all, clear a little time and watch this movie. I can't promise you won't be disappointed, but I cannot easily imagine how.

I bought this film without ever having seen it. I liked the Talking Heads and had heard about the movie. Suffice it to say that I was amazed! The genious of starting with just a bare stage with David Byrne singing his sublime live version of Psycho Killer, then adding equiptment and band members was so weird, so brilliant. The energy and stamina shown by Mr. Byrne in this film borders on creepy. Was there a mountain of coke backstage, or is he a marathon runner? Not for me to know. How he was able to bend that far backwards during Once In A Lifetime I'll never know! All in all a real concert experience, combining the brilliance and showmanship of the Talking Heads with a master director like Jonathan Demme. It's no wonder that their compilation, Sand In The Vaseline, includes two live tracks seen on the film.