By Alfie Linville-Sibley
Remastered for its 40th anniversary and re-released by indie darling production company A24, Stop Making Sense remains as joyous and strange as it was in 1984. Same as it ever was.
A lone madman on an empty stage, boombox in tow, guitar strung nonchalantly over a nondescript beige suit. A psycho killer, by his own admission in the song, twitching with paranoia, falling over himself as the music glitches in and out. David Byrne cuts a distinct silhouette on stage, black hair slicked back, and gaunt features intensified by the limelight.
Stop Making Sense begins very differently from how it ends. Filmed over three nights in 1983 at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood on what would be Talking Heads’ last tour, Byrne is slowly joined by bandmates Tina Weymouth, Chris Frantz and Jerry Harrison, as well as percussionists, backing singers and guest musicians. The stage is slowly assembled piece by piece and director Jonathan Demme gently pulls his focus back as the scope of the show opens up.
While ‘Heaven’ continues the yearning and melancholy, by the time the whole band has assembled and the ominous, relentless guitar line from ‘Burning Down the House’ breaks out into up-tempo funk and revelry the energy can hardly be contained.
What follows for the remaining hour is a series of moments, captured live and off the cuff. Byrne sprints circles around the stage, Harrison, Weymouth and the two backing singers run on the spot, lifting their knees high to the driving grooves, Byrne marvels over a lamp refusing to fall over, dramatically spotlit centre stage, before embracing it and giving it a kiss.
While the tone changes, at one point Byrne is vampiric, lit in red and sitting up like Dracula rising from his coffin, the camp is the one constant.
Finally, the Suit. We all know it, the ridiculous playing card-shaped suit Byrne dons. Looking like the king missing his crown He moves with such unnatural fluidity, flailing his arms and legs flanked by his fellows having just as much fun. The more you watch this concert the more moments you pick out.
While at the beginning Byrne’s piercing eyes stare directly into Demme’s camera, turning straight to the camera with uncanny menace, by the end the rapturous performance and child-like energy of everyone on stage makes for a euphoric release and celebration of music. If you can sit still while watching this seminal performance, my screening certainly couldn’t there’s something wrong with you.