Directed by Jonathan Demme...BRILLIANTLY starts with a blank, brightly lit stage and progresses with each song to a fully functioning stage show. Mr. Byrne did his own lighting AND choreography along with writing songs. There is so much abstract joy in this piece that it makes one think, "We're they on coke?" I'm thinking since it WAS the 80's...definitely. It was hard NOT to do coke in the 80's.The only thing missing is that nobody speaks to the audience at all. There's no familiarity between artist and patron. The music does stand on it's own, though.It was shot right here in Hollywood at the Pantages, which is nice to know. And there's a song in it by the Talking Head's band (- Byrne) the Tom Tom Club, which Mr. Byrne is rumored to have hated. They band split up after this tour which is sad. Mr. Byrne left to have a solo career that never matched the popularity he had with the Talking Heads...and in my opinion never produced anything that equaled it's brilliance.

I don't know how many times I've watched this film, but I do know that it has never grown old. David Byrne, artist first, musician second, created the single most unique, and best, musical stage show of all time. Then he brought in a spectacular bunch of backing players to compliment the Talking Heads core quartet.Demme captured it perfectly by not being too intrusive or overly busy. This is before the 40 edits per minute video era; while not stagnant at all it never makes you dizzy. You have time to take in the different personalities.And, yeah, the music's pretty good, too.

Before I saw Stop Making Sense I had never been particularly concerned with The Talking Heads, or lead-singer and solo-artist David Byrne. Indeed, I had always been a fan of certain songs, such as "Burning Down the House" and "Psycho Killer", but I had never actually spent time becoming acquainted with the band's music on the whole. However, Stop Making Sense was something I was desperate to view, due to the substantial amount of praise that had been garnered over the years since its release. Now it is safe to say that The Talking Heads rank among my favourite bands, thanks to this masterpiece of musical art.Essentially, Stop Making Sense is a showcase of the band's collected works. Throughout the 90-minute running-time the concert simultaneously covers the back-catalogue of The Talking Heads, through fluid, non-stop vibrancy. From "Found a Job" and "Take Me to the River" the work is merely a sample of the group's ability to provide some of the most engaging live shows ever recorded. To say that the film is "original" would be an understatement, given that the title still rings true today. Stop Making Sense defines the band's abilities, attitudes, styles and motifs. The New Wave approach the film takes is stylistically engaging to such an extent that it is virtually impossible to draw your eyes away from the screen. Minimalist set-pieces move along with the mood of the music at such a rate that much of the picture feels like a kaleidoscope of blistering sound and trancelike imagery.David Byrne is the key constituent; bestowing his stage presence, creativity and musical proficiency. His stage dynamics are let loose during Stop Making Sense. The infamously over-sized business suit donned by David Byrne is otherworldly, just like the viewing experience, which transports you into a deep-seated, vivacious trance. Yet it is the suit which distinguishes the work completely. The fact that a regular item of clothing can have the ability to make the wearer seem out-of-proportion and disfigured is both mystifying and captivating. Even more bizarre is that the suit seems to grow relatively larger as the concert progresses. Personal interpretation could be that the suit is an implicative metaphor for the irony of the business world or conformity; on the other hand it could just be about not making sense.Academy award winning director Jonathan Demme does not just "get the gist of The Talking Heads". Instead he is able to comprehend the themes of the band's work from an unmistakably refined tone that he captures through his direction. The irregularity of the group may be hard for some viewers to swallow, but that can be expected from a group which make music of an acquired taste. As for the choreography, it seems there is none, since the musicians all behave in a volatile and limitless manner. The progressively shifted set-pieces convey the altered reality that you have become apart of, and are an extraordinary example of unbound craftsmanship. Stop Making Sense ultimately displays the band's antics from their perspective; this is due to the extended takes of the performers and the lack of audience shots (the fans can only be seen during wide shots or when the camera moves behind the performers). There are even moments where the viewer effectively becomes apart of the band. A prime example of this manoeuvre is when the camera swings behind drummer Chris Frantz and faces the audience during the rendition of "Thank You for Sending me an Angel."Characteristically speaking it is hopeless trying to describe the feeling you receive while viewing Stop Making Sense. This is because when seen and heard the mind becomes so fixated with the audacious madness of the piece that every viewer will react differently. Personally, this is the concert which I would irrefutably name as the finest ever recorded, maybe you will too.

A well-captured record of a fine concert - if not the Citizen Cane of the genre claimed by Uncut magazine on the DVD cover. There's a a great deal to enjoy. The songs are at the forefront of African rhythm/funk/synthesisers-soaked post-punk and some (Burning Down the House, Once In A Lifetime) are classics. The performances focus on this music making. There are few props, no extraneous narrative/drama and the antics (largely of frontman David Byrne) seem strangely natural. I'm sure I'm not the only one who sees the remarkable stage act of Radiohead's Thom Yorke prescribed in his incessant, compulsive movement.One or two things stick out though. For all the integrity of the performance there are reminders that it's been patched together from three different performances - there's occasional mis-synched singing and dancing. Also the performers' patois and costuming hum with the naphthalene of anachronism, particularly in the interpolated number by The Tom Tom Club (Genius of Love), a parallel project of the husband and wife rhythm section.It's all remarkably unaffected, unfussy live music making though, admirably complied and controlled by Jonathan Demme. 7/10