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.
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.
