The IMAX version of STOP MAKING SENSE knocked me on my ass
And you owe it to yourself to have this experience
Stop Making Sense
Bernie Worrell, Alex Weir, Steven Scales, Lynn Mabry, Ednah Holt, Tina Weymouth, Jerry Harrison, Chris Frantz, David Byrne
cinematography by Jordan Cronenweth
edited by Lisa Day
music by Talking Heads
written by Talking Heads and Jonathan Demme
produced by Gary Goetzman
directed by Jonathan Demme
Rated PG
1 hr 28 mins
A record of the final three performances of the Speaking in Tongues tour by the Talking Heads, filmed at the Pantages Theater in Los Angeles.
How does something become your favorite thing?
When this was released, I was 14, just starting to explore my musical tastes. I felt like there were guardrails on everything for a variety of reasons. I was living in Chattanooga at the time, and my social circle consisted of my Boy Scout troop, the kids at my school, and the guys at the golf course where I worked as a caddy. This was 1984, so you’re talking about the heart of the homophobic ‘80s in the deepest part of the South. Liking something that deviated from the mainstream was dangerous, and one of the things I learned early was to hide the things I liked from people who might make me feel bad about them. It’s a terrible way to live when you’re trying to figure out who you are, and exponentially worse for anyone who was actually gay. Anything weird was labeled “gay” immediately, as if it was the worst thing you could call something, and I still feel guilt about how much I worried about it. Just the implication could ruin you, regardless of the truth, and it was psychotic how much emphasis was put on the music you listened to or the movies you liked as some sort of barometer about your identity.
There were artists who existed on a razor’s edge, like Prince, who challenged all of those ideas head-on but somehow managed to maintain their mainstream foothold. That was a relief, because I adored Prince from the moment I first heard him. Same with David Bowie. Somehow, Bowie’s direct challenges to the ideas of gender normative fashion and behavior made him cool in a way that the horrible homophobes could accept. There were other artists whose work didn’t have anything to do with sexuality but who were so weird that being caught listening to them was the same as coming out. It was such an awful atmosphere, such an uncomfortable time, and I spent a number of those years being very careful about who I allowed into my home. Because I felt like I couldn’t talk to many people about the things I was interested in, I found myself frequently buying things blind. I’d read something or I’d see something or one interest would lead to something else and I’d decide I needed to try something to see if I liked it. The way I came to things was often very weird or circuitous. I have no idea why I read No One Here Gets Out Alive considering I’d never heard a single song by the Doors, but Danny Sugarman’s book was exactly what it took to turn a 12-year-old bookworm into a Jim Morrison fan.
Older siblings were occasional lifelines to a much cooler world than the one I inhabited, and one friend’s brother not only had a car but actually kind of liked taking us to movies with him. His taste in music was the most eccentric and personal out of any of the people I knew, and part of the reason I liked him was because he genuinely didn’t seem to care what anyone thought about the stuff he enjoyed. His tape collection felt like it had been assembled by ten different people all picking out of a box in the dark, but all of it had been accumulated honestly over time. He just loved a lot of different things. One afternoon, he offered to take us to “see a band.” My parents were just on the verge of allowing me to go to concerts. I think my first was for the Big Bam Boom tour by Hall & Oates, which was toward the end of the year. I told him I wasn’t allowed to go to shows yet, and he laughed and told me I’d be okay seeing this one.
He drove us to the mall where Stop Making Sense was playing. He didn’t give us any preamble. He didn’t try to explain the band to us. He didn’t even really tell us what we were about to see. He just let it happen, and after the film was over, he seemed delighted by the way the two of us lost our minds. I bought this soundtrack immediately and played it more times than I could count, and I consider that a turning point for me. No one else I knew had ever even mentioned Talking Heads to me, and no one else I knew seemed excited about Stop Making Sense. It made me realize that I was being an idiot taking my cues from other people or worrying about what they thought. I think it helped that I started to spring up around this time, going from just under five feet to almost six feet by the time I was 15. I suddenly didn’t feel as intimidated by everyone, and I decided that I would rather try and find things to enjoy, wherever they might come from, than try to live up to anyone else’s idea of normal or cool.
The following year, I bought Little Creatures when it came out, and that was it. From that point on, I had to track down everything they’d put out and absorb it all. I was in love with this crazy, singular sound of theirs, and every so often, I’d throw on my dubbed VHS copy of the film, eventually seeing it so many times that it almost became background noise. If you forced me to pick my top 100 films of all time, there are movies I’d struggle with, movies that might be on the cusp, but there are also films I’d include without hesitating. Stop Making Sense is one of those movies. This movie is such a longtime favorite, such a deeply-felt favorite, that I almost can’t remember a time before I’d seen it. It was such a favorite that I’d almost worn it out for myself.
On Monday night, I sat in the Chinese Theater, and the 4K IMAX presentation of the movie felt brand-new, like a movie I’d never seen before. The newly remastered soundtrack is like a living thing, and the image is startling at times. It has never felt more immediate or vital, not even during that initial release. There’s something very different about any film presented at that size, but especially one like this. Jonathan Demme was a remarkable choice for director for the film, and when Spike Lee interviewed the band after the screening, it was clear just how much affection all four of the musicians had for their collaborator and how missed he was. Spike Lee seemed almost giddy talking about the film, and I get it. Spike’s directed some great live productions, and I would urge you to check out his film version of Passing Strange if you haven’t seen it. It’s a fantastic record of that show and I think it’s safe to say there are lessons that Lee learned by watching what Demme did here. Spike called it the best concert film of all time, and I am inclined to agree with him. There are a number of concert films that I like, a few I really adore, but none of them works quite the way this one does. The Last Waltz, for example, is a great concert film at times, but it’s also a documentary about The Band and the reason for the end of this thing that meant so much to so many people, and it documents far more than just some live performances. This is a concert film. There’s nothing else. There’s no fat on it. The band comes out. They play their show. And then it’s over. Credits on both ends. Simple, right?
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