In 1985, I was spending the summer in Boston. One night, when deciding about what movie to go see, my twin Henry insisted on "Stop Making Sense." Absurdly, I was not a fan of Talking Heads at the time. Their "Burning Down the House" video on MTV, featuring David Byrne "eating" the white roadway divider lines just irritated me. What is more, I found the song boring.
I wanted to see Albert Brooks' "Lost in America." So, we struck a deal: If Hank came with me to see "Lost in America," at 10 p.m., I would (grudgingly) sit through the midnight show of "Stop Making Sense." I rationalized that since Jonathan Demme directed it — and I liked his films "Citizens Band" and "Melvin and Howard" — I might appreciate this concert film. Demme also was a huge musichead, and always had the best film soundtracks.
Hank agreed, and "Lost in America" delivered; I think it remains Brooks' funniest film, and I can still quote lines from it.
But then the midnight show of "Stop Making Sense" started, and three songs in, I knew Hank won the night. Byrne comes out and performs an acoustic version of "Psycho Killer," which piqued my interest. "Heaven," with bassist Tina Weymouth, followed, and it was a nice, albeit slow song. But then, as the band grew stronger — with Chris Franz coming in on drums for "Thank You for Sending Me and Angel," followed by Jerry Harrison on guitar for "Found a Job" — I was up and dancing in the aisles. I could not sit still for the rest of the film, and Hank certainly smiled when I leaned over admitting that I loved this film. I never stopped smiling.
When the Talking Heads performed "Burning Down the House," in "Stop Making Sense" it had an energy that the seemingly boring music video didn't capture. That energy was prominent in their other hits in heavy rotation at the time, "Life During Wartime," and "Once in a Lifetime." The big suit had yet to make an appearance, and I was already overwhelmed and overjoyed.
"Girlfriend Is Better" became my new favorite song after I heard it for the first time in the film, and the closing number, "Crosseyed and Painless" was simply infectious. All of the music was irresistible. Even "Swamp," my least favorite Heads song, came to life in "Stop Making Sense" because of how Demme filmed it. I had to admit, I had been to church and was converted. Amen!
Staggering out of the theater at 1:30 in the morning, I knew I needed to spread the gospel. And I did. I went back at least six times to the midnight shows that summer, bringing friends, my mom, anyone I could find to see the film over and over and just bliss out on the fabulous, rhythmic music.
By the end of the summer, my favorite Talking Heads song was "This Must Be the Place (Naïve Melody). It took me a few listens to fully appreciate that tune above all others, but to this day, it remains among my Top 5 songs of all time. (Fun Fact: When I interviewed Raine Allen-Miller, the director of "Rye Lane," we I bonded over the song, which is her karaoke pick. She said, "One day I'm going to make a film with that song in it. I sing it, I dance to it. It makes me happy. It makes me sad. It's just the best.")
Back home in Philadelphia, I caught the film a few more times in the theater, because I had to take friends who had not seen it. It was an experience I needed to have over and over and over again and one I wanted to share.
In the ensuing years, I've been able to see "Stop Making Sense" in theaters a few more times. Once, during the film's 10th anniversary re-release, I saw it in an almost empty theater, which was both great and depressing. I was so happy to see the film again on the big screen but discouraged that so few people were in attendance. But now, with its 40th anniversary re-release, in a remixed and remastered print, watching "Stop Making Sense" in an IMAX theater with a crowd of fans was an experience that made me appreciate what is arguably the greatest concert film all over again. The full house applauded after almost every song. We all sang along and danced in and out of our seats.
Seeing David Byrne's Big Suit on the Big Screen was also joyful. Watching him come out on a bare stage with a boom box and say, "I've got a tape I want to play," or ask, "Does anybody have any questions?" is charming. Knowing every song and lyric is to be mesmerized all over again.
What I appreciated most during this recent viewing is what I have appreciated since my initiation — how Demme gives the musicians the room to move while also focusing on their performance. They are all working together, like a well-oiled machine. Byrne, in particular, is a perpetual motion machine, running in place, and around the stage, dancing and moving in sync with his bandmates or the fabulous backup singers, Lynn Mabry and Ednah Holt.
Demme films Byrne in ways that highlight what he is singing, letting viewers focus on and absorb the lyrics, undistracted by the audience, which would break the magic of the musical performance. (The film wisely withholds any audience reaction shots until the final few moments, and the woman who gyrates her neck always makes me smile.)
"Stop Making Sense" is incredibly well made and to me, the best concert film ever. Demme closes in on Weymouth playing two notes in a song before cutting away to a guitar solo. He shoots "Once in a Lifetime" in an almost single take, and when he cuts to Jerry Harrison and Bernie Worrell on keyboards above Byrne, Ednah Holt and Lyn Mabry, it is breathtaking. (I audibly gasped this last time.) This shot transfixes me because I have been so spellbound by Byrne that I am literally entranced and pulled into the music.
The film is better than being at the live concert because viewers are literally on stage with the talent. We can see their expressions, we feel Byrne sweating in his big suit, and we hear that vibrant wall of sound as it builds and builds and builds — from the catchy guitar licks to the rhythmic percussion. The music works because everyone is delivering their best performance and the band is having such fun that viewers do, too.
I can't help but sing at "Stop Making Sense." And I did it involuntarily at the recent Sept. 11 screening I attended. (Forget those "Sound of Music" and "Grease" sing-alongs theaters held pre-pandemic. There should be a "Stop Making Sense" sing-along, because it's impossible not to perform during this film!)
The new restored and remixed print looks sharp, and it is truly stunning to see it in IMAX. The film feels as timeless as the music.
Four decades later, I am still grateful to Hank for making me see "Stop Making Sense." And I was so pleased to have him sit next to me as we watched this film for the umpteenth time. I am going to see it again and again while it plays in theaters.
"Stop Making Sense" is being re-released Sept. 22 in IMAX theaters for a week before it plays in traditional theaters starting Sept. 29.
