Conceived for the stage by David Byrne
Directed by Jonathan Demme
**** (four stars)
RATED PG
It felt as if I was seeing it for the very first time.
Dear readers, in regards to Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense," his now iconic concert film documenting an equally iconic performance from the iconic final, tour by Talking Heads, I actually came a little late to the party. While I was more than aware of it upon its original release back in 1984 at the age of 15, I was in prime condition to see the film, especially after the rapturous reviews delivered by the late Gene Siskel and the late Roger Ebert. But, if my memory is serving me correctly, Demme's film was relegated to the art film circuit and therefore, it was one which played in downtown Chicago art cinemas, venues that my parents would typically not be convinced to transport me to and from, and additionally, it was definitely a film neither of them were remotely interested in seeing.
By the time I arrived at University of Wisconsin-Madison for my college years in 1987, I was convinced that some theater or campus film society would show it and then, I would have my chance. Unfortunately, that never happened either. I finally saw the film for the first time well into adulthood on DVD and indeed, after finally being a witness, I had to add my voice to the choir in its universal praise. "Stop Making Sense" is an absolutely remarkable film, one that is overflowing with energy, enthusiasm and jubilance all engulfed in an outstanding collection of songs and performances that range from art rock, post punk, country, disco, funk, R&B, gospel, African rhythms and soundscapes resulting in a golden amalgamation of what music, concerts and concert films could actually be.
Once it was announced that in anticipation of the films 40th anniversary, a re-release and full audio/visual restoration supervised by Talking Heads' guitarist/keyboardist Jerry Harrison was underway, I kept my hopes up that I would be able to at long last have a chance to see the film in a movie theater...the way it has always meant to be experienced. Now having seen the film in a theater, and so truthfully, for the sake of the movies and our relationship with them in our current cinematic landscape, plus our relationship to music itself for that matter, Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense" resonated and uplifted to a degree that was more powerful than ever, making it a film of essential viewing, whether as a reunion for fans or as an introduction to novices.
Filmed over a period of three nights in December 1983 during Talking Heads' tour promoting the album "Speaking In Tongues" (released June 1, 1983), Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense" opens with frontman David Byrne walking onto the barren stage alone and armed with only an acoustic guitar and a boombox. He sets the tape deck upon the stage, presses "PLAY" unveiling a skeletal drum machine beat to which Byrne begins to perform a full throated and unrepentantly twitchy "Psycho Killer," complete with brilliantly sudden and unpredictable gyrations suggesting the mind and body of the unhinged, the isolated, the disconnected .
Over the course of the following three songs, (the sublime country of "Heaven," the galloping "Thank You For Sending Me An Angel" and the four-on-the-floor funk of "Found A Job," respectively) Byrne is joined one by one by his bandmates, bassist Tiny Weymouth, drummer Chris Franz and guitarist/keyboardist Jerry Harrison and soon thereafter, the core band of Talking Heads is further augmented by five auxiliary members: guitarist Alex Weir, percussionist Steve Scales, keyboardist Bernie Worrell and backing vocalists Ednah Holt and Lynn Mabry.
From this point, the band and film launches into a superlative showcase of Talking Heads' hits and deep cuts (including "Burning Down The House," "Life During Wartime," and "Swamp"), one solo David Byrne selection ("What A Day That Was") plus another from the Chris Franz/Tina Weymouth side project Tom Tom Club (the classic "Genius Of Love"), and an orgiastic Al Green cover ("Take Me To The River"), each song in this beautifully sequenced experience ascending higher and higher.
As I stated at the outset of this posting, even though I have seen and even own the film, seeing Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense" within its proper context of the movie theater going experience truly made me feel as if I was viewing it for the very first time. The sheer sound and vision of the film was splendidly breathtaking, surprisingly moving and trust me, I was unable to remain still in my theater seat, as the propulsive rhythms keep my body moving and my arms and feet attempted to keep pace with Chris Franz's superb drumming for the bulk of the running time.
Truth be told, I really am not sure if this is the greatest concert film ever made, as so many have attested over these four decades. But, I can easily and firmly express that every concert film made after "Stop Making Sense" lives completely in its immense shadow and gargantuan influence--and believe me, that even incudes the likes of Prince's spectacular "Sign O' The Times" (1987) and even Spike Lee's wonderful document of David Byrne's "America Utopia" (2020).
Even the film's narrative, such as it is, makes...well...complete sense now, as Talking Heads' current media tour surrounding the rerelease and restoration have elucidated over their storytelling intentions of the show's conception. Yes, from my original viewings, I was captivated by the overwhelming energy upon display but the narrative of the isolated loner who finds acceptance within a community leapt as far off of the screen as the music and performances from all nine members of the band, with the brilliantly magnetic David Byrne at the center, as he swivels, contorts, and literally runs laps around the stage in restless yet artfully controlled and innovative frenzy that left me in amazement.
To that end, Jonathan Demme views the proceedings through an enormously empathetic and generous lens, where the spontaneity and delirious affection all of the band members display towards each other allows us to witness a full celebration of the rapture they are creating together. These are individuals who are clearly impressed and taken with each other just as we are as we watch them. Seeing Jerry Harrison suddenly begin dancing alongside Ednah Holt and Lynn Mabry lifted me in a way I did not expect, for instance. How Harrison and Bernie Worrell regard each other from behind their keyboard stacks. How Steve Scales and Alex Weir are never felt to be relegated to existing as hired hands but as full, equal players, afforded the exact same spotlight and appreciation as the core quartet. And then, there was always that kid in a candy store delight that is plastered upon Chris Franz's face throughout, making me feel that he was regarding every rock dream he ever had becoming beautifully rendered to vivid life right in front of his and our eyes.
All of these emotions are tied directly into the narrative certainly and have always existed as part of its cinematic fabric. But seeing "Stop Making Sense" nearly 40 years later, the film's attributes and gifts are even more impressive to behold as it is a euphoric work of art as it utilizes minimalism to maximum effect while also demystifying the experience as it creates its own sorcery. This aspect is deeply notable as we are constantly subjected to all manner of CGI overkill in film, television and even commercials plus the sensory overload extravagances of 21st century live performances from the likes of Beyonce Taylor Swift and U2's brand new stage show residency, which looks like ten IMAX screens in one.
Now, don't get me wrong. I am not immune to spectacle, and I do often find myself enraptured. A live performance I attended by The Flaming Lips a few years ago remains possibly the greatest concert experience of my life as it was akin to being as overtly psychedelic and as otherworldly as being transported inside of a rainbow while also packing an emotional wallop. That being said, seeing "Stop Making Sense" in 2023, when our eyes and ears are constantly being bludgeoned with artificial sound and spectacle, so often signifying not very much at all, it was a wonder to behold the special effects on screen in Demme's film as being nothing more than the human body in motion, the music being made and the overwhelming effect it had upon the participants as well as us in the movie theater audience. In that way, the film repeatedly reached crescendos and a transcendence that all of the CGI in the world could never attain.
As has been rightfully celebrated over the years, the sight of the show and film beginning upon a barren stage with David Byrne at the center is striking by what is and is not present. It defies expectations by upending what we are conditioned to seeing in a live setting. This feeling continues as each band member arrives, and we regard the stage crew building up the event piece by piece, with a black background and screens behind the band appearing before we even realize it. The band's monochromatic clothing and seeing how it is all juxtaposed with not much more than while lights and shadows, as photographed by Cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth, is often dazzling. And of course, Jonathan Demme's innovative technique of not showing the audience at all until the film reaches its zenith, affords us the moment when band, audience, crew and movie theater audience are all as one--the moment when community becomes communion, when a movie becomes church!
Every sight is meant to be savored. David Byrne dancing with a lamp. Byrne and Weir running in place while playing their guitars. Every band member seemingly possessing their own signature dance moves. The entire band DRENCHED in sweat by film's end! Of course...the unforgettable BIG suit! The physicality, agility, and athleticism all fueled into the overall musicality and artistry is so astounding and in a time when special effects are just not terribly special anymore due to their ubiquity, Talking Heads' sense of revivalism is worth celebrating more now than in 1984.
Jonathan Demme's "Stop Making Sense" at 40 is the definition of a celebration. For Talking Heads, it is a time to reflect and rejoice at their legacy while bearing witness to themselves at the shining jewel of their fully idiosyncratic career. For all of us, especially in our social and politically divisive point in 2023, it is telling to regard this multi racial and gendered band circa 1984--one that echoed Sly and the Family Stone and ran concurrently with the likes of Prince and the Revolution during a period when pop, rock, soul and funk music was deeply segregated from band make ups to listeners, for it was a period during which people existed within specific camps and had to choose sides--working, collaborating and playing together to create a joyful noise for the masses.
What Talking Heads displayed within "Stop Making Sense through the mixture of musical genres and the make up of all nine band members on stage was and is an elated defiance against any well worn rules of the day, firmly extolling a more utopian viewpoint and ideal.
And doesn't that just make perfect sense?
