# Stop Making Sense (1984)

### reviewed by
Matthew K. Gold

    STOP MAKING SENSE (1984)
    A Review by Matthew K. Gold
    from the Book-Lover's Guide to Cinema
    http://www.panix.com/~mgold/meter.htm
    Copyright 1998 Matthew K. Gold

                    White Sneakers, Big Suit

STOP MAKING SENSE, the 1984 Talking Heads movie, is a masterpiece of the concert film genre. Conceived for the stage by lead singer David Byrne, and directed by Jonathan Demme (Silence of the Lambs, Philadelphia, and Swimming to Cambodia), the film is a visionary presentation of stage performance, sound, rhythm, choreography, and soul.

The film begins when Byrne, wearing a gray suit and impeccably white sneakers, walks onto the barren center stage and sets a boom box down on the floor. "Hi. I've got a tape I want to play," he says, as if the crowd consisted of three friends sitting on his living room couch. As the opening beats of "Psycho Killer" emerge from the tape player, the camera slowly rises from Byrne's tapping sneaker to his guitar, and then up to his head, which bobs hypnotically to the music.

STOP MAKING SENSE contains well-edited footage from three concerts. It eschews elaborate sets, long-winded speeches, and special effects, and relies instead on Demme's minimalist camera skills and the band's considerable performing capabilities. Three of the band members--Byrne, bassist Tina Weymouth, and drummer Chris Frantz--attended the Rhode Island School of Design, which may be why the set looks so good.

After the first song, during which the boom box is Byrne's only accompaniment, Weymouth enters the stage and joins Bryne in a spare, beautiful rendition of "Heaven" (whose haunting refrain is "Heaven is a place where nothing ever happens"). One new band member arrrives with every song, so that the film builds with rhythmic intensity.

Demme's pace, and his use of light and color (deep blues and reds), reminded me of Stanley Kubrick, who displayed similar skills in his masterpiece, 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. In STOP MAKING SENSE, Demme includes shots of black-clad stagehands wheeling pieces of the set onto the stage. The cumbersome metal objects, which float serenely through hazy backlighting, resemble the ships that drift through space in Kubrick's austere epic.

The relationship between the core musicians of the Talking Heads, who are white, and the musicians who perform with them, who are black, is fraught with interesting contrasts and tensions. In many ways, the band draws its energy from the intersection of a variety of cultures. The Talking Heads temper punk, soul, avant-garde design aesthetics, and new-wave style with a nicely skewed sense of irony. As he dances through the show in white sneakers, Byrne forms a bridge over a wide variety of cultural gaps. The only weak spot in the film comes when Byrne steps off the stage to let the remaining band members (the Tom Tom Club) perform--without his vision, the sound is just ordinary.

The performers have a great deal of fun with one another. At one point in the movie, Byrne turns to face the two background singers. He smiles, and starts to imitate their dance step. Without missing a beat, one singer begins to strum an air guitar in imitation of him. It's just one of the many moments of pure exuberance that grace this film.

Most of that exuberance is conveyed through dance--these musicians know how to move. Watch all of them dance--especially the backing vocalists (Ednah Holt and Lynn Mabry), the guitarist (Alex Weir), and the percussionist (Steven Scales)--and your eyes will be dazzled, your feet will start to tap. Watch Bernie Worrell (of Parliament/Funkadelic) swivel his head as he adds dollops of funk to the proceedings. Watch Tina Weymouth swing her knees and shoulders. Watch Scales, who personifies the movie's energy, cheer on the crowd. But above all, watch David Byrne, who seems to dwell in the eye of a dance hurricane. Whether he's slithering like a charmed snake, stumbling like a confused professor, or hanging his arms like a crucified office worker, Byrne's movements are precise and hypnotic.

In the end, however, it's the choreography (the coordination of music and movement), rather than the dancing alone, that makes STOP MAKING SENSE such a treat. One shouldn't forget that this movie was carefully molded, that it was crafted from the footage of three separate shows; it wasn't just cobbled together without thought. There's someone moving in almost every frame of the film, and Demme's camera is rarely still--he's always approaching or circling or panning. There are limits to a concert film, to be sure, and I'm certain that this movie will appeal most to people already interested in the Talking Heads. But fanhood is not a prerequisite because this is more than just another concert film: it's a celebration of manic energy, a tribute to the joy of performance.

    Rating (1-5): [Shrine]
    © Matthew K. Gold 1997

    Director: Jonathan Demme
    Cast (in alphabetical order):
    David Byrne....Vocals and Guitar
    Chris Frantz....Drums and Vocals
    Jerry Harrison....Guitar, Keyboards and Vocals
    Ednah Holt....Backing Vocals
    Lynn Mabry....Backing Vocals
    Steven Scales....Percussion
    Alex Weir....Guitar and Vocals
    Tina Weymouth....Bass and Vocals
    Bernie Worrell....Keyboards
    Cinematography: Jordan Cronenweth
    Film Editing: Lisa Day
    Producer: Gary Goetzmen & Steve Maslow

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