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STOP MAKING SENSE remains perfect, no notes

Stop Making Sense
Directed by Jonathan Demme
Starring Talking Heads
Rated PG
Runtime: 1 hour, 28 minutes
In IMAX this week, opens wide September 29

by Ryan Silberstein, Managing Editor, Red Herring

And you may ask yourself, "Well, how did I get here?"

I don’t know if this makes me morbid, narcissistic, or both, but I think about my funeral a lot. In my mind, my loved ones and friends are celebrating my life, getting rowdy, eating well, and then pushing me off of a shoreline on a little boat set ablaze. This will be followed by a screening of Stop Making Sense. There is no better way to celebrate life through movement and music. Canonically one of my 10 favorite movies ever, not only is Stop Making Sense a perfect concert film, it is also a perfect movie. There are a bunch of elements that come together that make this so endlessly watchable, and finally seeing it in a theater (in IMAX no less) was nothing short of a religious experience for me.

One of those elements is the music. Talking Heads is one of my favorite bands, although this movie and my love of their music are deeply intertwined. Originating at RISD, and taking root as clean cut outliers of the CBGB scene in New York, there’s something really straight about the band overall. And yet their music feels inclusive and accessible. There is no denying they are coastal elite art kids, and yet their oddball sensibility and appreciation for African rhythms somehow transcends most of that background. Their influence on a wide variety of artists, including Trent Reznor, Radiohead, St. Vincent, Nelly Furtado, and the Weeknd, is proof of that. I’m sure there are people out there who don’t love Talking Heads, but it is hard to imagine anyone denying that their songs are interesting and catchy. 

Stop Making Sense documents the band’s 1983-84 tour, designed by the band to open in a way that is inherently cinematic. David Byrne, the band’s frontman, walks on stage with a boombox and an acoustic guitar, performing “Psycho Killer.” Each of the next four songs adds people and equipment to the stage one by one, giving a sense of assemblage and beginnings. It makes the show feel bigger and bigger organically, though it never breaks beyond the feel of a black box theater experience, and is fairly minimalist, even with the screen backdrops behind the band for much of the show. Talking Heads–Byrne, Tina Weymnouth (bass), Chris Frantz (drums), Jerry Harrison (guitar/keyboards)–are augmented on this tour by Bernie Worrell (keyboards), Steve Scales (percussion) Alex Weir (guitar), and additional vocalists Lynn Mabry and Ednah Holt. All of them are stellar performers, and are completely in sync as a larger touring band. The nine piece ensemble dances and plays together seamlessly by this point in the tour, and the energy that comes through is absolutely infectious. 

The other key element to Stop Making Sense is the direction of Jonathan Demme. Produced during the contentious production of Swing Shift, Demme was spending days with Goldie Hawn and nights with the Talking Heads. Due to this unplanned obstacle, Sandy McLeod stepped in, taking notes about the show, mapping out all of the shots. Demme and editor Lisa Day also brought Talking Heads into the editing process as well, getting their feedback on which band members or moments to highlight during certain songs. While a very collaborative project overall, Demme’s directorial trademarks are also all over the film. Demme’s love of close ups and focusing on the faces of performers is here, sprinkled throughout the film. This helps Stop Making Sense transcend the limits of trying to capture the experience of watching a concert from the audience and allows the camera to participate in the show. Because the audience is heard–but not seen until the end of the film–it gives the effect of somehow being on stage with the band, making it a different kind of intimate than a live performance, but similarly effective. Stop Making Sense is the ultimate concert movie, and remains an essential text for the form as well as a perfect document of the joy to be found in the Talking Heads music.