Sign 'o' the Times

 

Prince

Sheila E.

Sheila E, Prince, and Cat Glover

Cat and Sheila E.

SIGN ‘O’ THE TIMES                B+                                                                                         USA  (85 mi)  1987  d: Prince

If your body gets tired, keep dancing ‘cuz u gotta keep the blood flowing down 2 your feet. Brother Brooks will be ‘round in a minute with a bucket filled in it squirrel meat.  All thanks 2 God, may u live 2 see the dawn.                                                                                                   —Prince

This rarely screened concert film stands in stark contrast to Talking Heads’ Stop Making Sense (1984), and while Prince was the first black pop star since Stevie Wonder and Michael Jackson to command such widespread critical acclaim following the success of his massively popular movie PURPLE RAIN (1984), the subsequent album release by the same name is currently ranked 8th in Rolling Stone’s The 500 Greatest Albums of All Time, making this a deep dive into Prince’s blackness and his R&B roots, not some carefully crafted studio image that record producers encouraged, but an evolution of his own musical progression.  Prince was one of those artists who just couldn’t stop being creative, so inventive that he had to give some of his completed but unreleased tracks to budding and established artists, sometimes in anonymity, working at various times with Michael Jackson, Miles Davis, Dolly Parton and Deborah Allen, Bonnie Raitt, and Joni Mitchell, producing a staggering legacy spanning four decades, yet this comes at a time when he first started talking about his blackness, developing a social consciousness, and the pop world wasn’t exactly ready for that, adding a high erotic content with provocative physicality, literally flaunting sexual taboos during the AIDS epidemic of the 80’s.  Variety described it as “Defiantly carnal in the face of AIDS-era safe sexiness.”  It’s important to point out that very few artists at that time directly addressed the HIV/AIDS crisis in their music.  Coming after the breakup of his band Revolution, including Wendy & Lisa, while tapping into new ground as a solo artist, it’s the beginning of his epic, years-long battle with the record industry, as this was initially conceived as a sprawling three-disc album but his label, Warner Bros., forced him to trim it to just 16 songs in a double album, as his recent movie UNDER THE CHERRY MOON (1986) had just bombed and his albums had been selling less and less.  Still it’s long, ambitious, and emotionally complicated, originally planned as a live concert film instead of an American tour, consisting of live material from the last cities of his 1987 European tour in Rotterdam, Netherlands and Antwerp, Belgium, but much of that footage was grainy and considered unusable, and Prince was not satisfied with the sound.  For that reason, much of this was reshot at Prince's Minnesota Paisley Park Studios, so there is inevitably some lip-synching going on.  Nonetheless, this was initially released seven months after the record album, coming so long afterwards that there was no real piggyback effect, with a short theatrical run before being released only on VHS video, and then disappeared for decades, making it difficult if not impossible to find, finally airing on Showtime cable TV in 2017, playing again on the Criterion Channel, still never released on DVD or Blu-Ray in the United States, where the historical interest alone makes this worth seeking out.  The exceptional band accompanying Prince on tour, the Lovesexy band, consists of dancer Cat Glover, keyboardist Boni Boyer, bassist Levi Seacer Jr., guitarist Miko Weaver, drummer Sheila E., keyboardist Doctor Fink, with a horn section of Eric Leeds and Atlanta Bliss, while Wally Safford and Greg Brooks, two of the Bodyguards from the Revolution era, reprised their roles as dancers, vocalists, and film characters, while Sheena Easton is included from a promotional music video in U Got the Look.  Despite the overall technical glitches, this is Prince at the height of his powers at the age of 29, releasing ten studio albums before reaching the age of thirty, refusing to allow anyone else to define his legacy, fluent in just about every style imaginable with an insane mix of influences, singing in the falsetto and torn shirt of Little Richard, the guitar distortions of Jimi Hendrix, the complex tempo changes and restless innovation of Miles Davis, the sought-after choreography from James Brown or Chuck Berry, becoming an heir of that lineup of black artists proud of their racial affiliation, where his stage presence is simply magnetic.

In the 80’s alone, a new studio album was released every year, while Prince was constantly on tour with his respective bands, something he grew tired of doing, as he didn’t wish to simply rehash all the old songs, but instead conceive something totally fresh and new.  Despite the stellar reviews and lavish praise heaped upon the album, suggesting his creative floodgates were opened, it was not a megahit and never rivaled the commercial success of Purple Rain, where it was only years later that it became recognized as his most critically acclaimed record, re-released in 2020 with additional material from the Prince Vault as an 8CD or 13LP box set edition, including 45 unreleased songs, yet still no film included due to rights complications.  The Super Deluxe Edition exemplifies the breadth of his creative talent with a wealth of material that coalesces into a tour de force that simply defies categorization, inhabiting a world beyond race, and beyond gender, where he not only wrote, arranged, and produced every song, but played nearly all of the instruments, where his major musical collaborator was his engineer Susan Rogers, who recorded him all day and night, sometimes for an entire 24-hour stretch.  Yet the live concert version eclipses the studio version in nearly every respect, allowing the other musicians to shine, placing more emphasis on his multifaceted creativity, as Prince is the consummate showman who tells a story through the songs in the lineup, tied together with a cinematic thread about his developing romantic interest in Cat, which plays out through a series of scenes acted out to the music onstage.  There is a coarse quality to the look of the film, reflective of the times, shot on 35mm by Peter Sinclair, yet Leroy Bennett’s lighting and production design color schemes are warm and inviting, where there’s an effortless look to the show.  Set in a nightclub backdrop of blue and red neon lights, there is a brief theatrical setup with Cat Glover and Greg Brooks (wearing a wintry fur hat), as Prince listens outside as a silent bystander, while a flaming guitar riff and one of his most iconic basslines take us right into the heart of funk with a haunting title track about AIDS, crack, and Ronald Reagan, with Prince singing and performing centerstage while Cat is dancing in the background obscured by smoke, mirroring his every move, Prince: Sign O' Times - LIVE - Movie Version (1987) YouTube (6:28).  When each of the band members come out onstage with drums as they finish the song, like New Orleans second-liners, it only punctuates what we already hear from the guitar solo, growing even more powerful, literally revving up audiences in a theater of pure spectacle.  One thing that stands out with black performers is the call and response motif with audiences, resembling a preacher and his followers in church, something that goes back to Ray Charles and Ray Charles - What'd I Say (1959) - YouTube (6:27), where Charles, though blind, could read the pulse of the room by the audience response, as the moaning dialogue between Charles and his bumping and grinding backup singers, the Raelettes, builds to an orgiastic crescendo.  Prince has simply perfected this technique with his short screams into the microphone, sending audiences into a frenzy, something that is not captured on records.  The next song features a happily smiling Sheila E. on drums, adding another dimension to her personality, especially in relation to Prince, who mentored her work, collaborating so well together, where you can hear amped up keyboards and horns in the background in relation to the frenetic guitar solos, with exceptional choreography onstage, using quick cuts, creating a wall of movement behind Prince, with a sped-up tempo from the album, creating a much more celebratory mood, Prince - Play In The Sunshine (Sign O' The Times Concert Movie, 1987) YouTube (3:51).    

A little snippet of Little Red Corvette can be heard before Prince suddenly exhorts, “Shut up already! Damn!”  A back and forth with the audience ramps up the tempo in this jazzy horn and bass-driven party jam, Prince : housequake (movie version) YouTube (3:56), the epitome of funk, rock, and jazz all in one, with Prince strutting his musical bravado onstage, performing quick twirls, crawling on his back, and doing the splits, with Eric Leeds providing a funky James Brown sax while Sheila E. tears up the drums with staccato-like precision.  This is another sped-up but really tight version of the song, with Prince orchestrating those around him to match his energy and tempo, especially Cat, wearing a different skimpy outfit in every sing, with her own unique chest-bumps matching his every move, providing a clear example of his proficiency as a bandleader.  Prince slows it down for the next number, a sensual ballad under the moonlight, Slow Love Live - Prince YouTube (4:57), creating a sultry and soulful mood as he does little runs and screeches, exuding his own sensuality, baring his chest, doing kicks and twirls, even singing on his back, continually changing his tonal inflection, with Eric Leeds killing it on this track, while the audience sways along while holding up matches or lighters in a flickering tribute, a practice that began in the late 60’s and early 70’s with the prevalence of Zippo and Bic disposable lighters which today have been replaced by cellphones.  Notable is a quick glance at the end by Prince in Cat’s direction as she’s falling backwards in a ballet-like gesture into the arms of Brooks, which offers insight into his mindset, hoping his prayers will be answered.  This idea continues into the next number, with Cat basically offering herself to him, but Prince plays coy, not willing to come between an existing relationship, suggesting they wouldn’t be satisfied, so there’s a little theatrics from a clearly frustrated Cat.  This actually starts out with two guys in a bar talking about how hard it is to talk to your woman, as if that’s a concept that’s beneath them, as women are viewed primarily as sex objects, a sexist and demeaning position that drives Cat in Prince’s direction, who rocks out with a fiery guitar solo while dressed in an orange jumpsuit, eventually throwing flowers into the audience while the players become darkened shadows onstage, Prince - Never Take the Place of Your Man (1987 Sign of the Times concert movie) YouTube (7:22).  Prince opens the next song on the keyboards while Cat is booty-shaking while gyrating against a metal screen, setting the tone for a bit of electro-funk, Prince Hot Thing Live In Concert 1987 - YouTube YouTube (5:44), creating a completely subjective experience delving into female sexuality, as expressed from a male point of view, with Cat described by Brooks as a “sweet sticky thing.”  The eye contact between Prince and Cat is smoldering, wearing her skimpy yellow attire, doing a sexual fantasy dance together with the horns blaring, where their elevated dance sequence together sizzles with the thrill of excitement, simply oozing with lust, romantically ending in each other’s arms.  Throughout this film, every gesture, implication, and movement, even the most trivial ones, undergo extreme amplification of meaning while the established dialogue between performers and audiences are meticulously staged, with a substantial amount of uncredited work by Albert Magnoli, yet Prince simply doesn’t have the directing skills that Jonathan Demme exhibited in Stop Making Sense (1984).   

One thing you certainly notice with this film is that the live show is so much better with this band after having discarded the Revolution.  Prince was never better in his command of an audience, but also in providing such an electrifying performance onstage, where it’s hard to imagine he did this kind of thing all the time, as there’s never been anyone else like him, but this is what he was known for, and this film finds him at the zenith of his creative peak.  This is the Prince we will always remember.  As he leaves the stage in an interlude, each of the awesome musicians in the band take a turn soloing, finally assuming the spotlight, and they don’t disappoint, where this is the “new” Prince sound, allowing a showcase for Sheila E. in developing her own crazy interplay with the audience, #Music - Sheila E - Solo Drum Live YouTube (2:05).  In something of an amusing move, the Prince and Sheena Easton music video, with typical MTV-style editing, is inserted into the middle of the film with no real changes, marking the film’s only non-live performance,  Prince - U Got The Look (Official Music Video) - YouTube (5:31)  but it neatly fits into the concert film as a dream sequence.  The next song features Prince shimmering in furs, Prince - If I Was Your Girlfriend (Sign O' The Times Concert Film, 1987) YouTube (5:16), elevating the studio version with a more soulful rendition, featuring many more screams in his own unique vocal variations.  This is the song where Cat is seduced by Prince onstage, with the words love and sex illuminated on each side of the stage, existing in perfect harmony, with Prince doing a solo dance of twirls and splits before drawing her into his world, leading her to the top of the stage where he makes love to her on a giant red heart.  The next two songs are erotically combined, Forever in My Life/It, Prince - Forever in My Life YouTube (11:07), exposing a raw vulnerability, originally written as a declaration of love to Susannah Melvoin, twin sister of Wendy, where they were actually engaged to be married, yet rewritten explicitly for a live performance, opening with a crowd chant as Prince appears onstage in a soldier outfit doing some sermonizing and a series of screams to a slow grind, with a few flecks of an acoustic guitar with Sheila E. appearing as a background singer alongside Boni Boyer, who is encouraged by Prince to take a gospel solo, but receives only meager applause afterwards, as the entire band becomes a surrounding chorus all joining into a hypnotic collective.  By now Prince and Cat are a couple, seen through a Plasma globe in an animated snowstorm, Prince- It’s Gonna Be A Beautiful Night YouTube (8:05), as Prince appears in a cloud of smoke, doing some playful signature dance moves before he switches places with Sheila E. who does a vocal rap solo out front while Prince assumes the drumset, becoming a thumping dance review of pure chaos onstage with the entire band, all dressed in white, as Cat turns the tables on the men and drives them all away with her chest shakes, taking supreme satisfaction in her accomplishment, where sexuality provides a sense of female empowerment.  With a white cross painted onto his cheek, Prince ends the show on a pensive note with a half-strummed acoustic gospel elegy, Prince - The Cross (Live From ‘Sign O' The Times’) 4K Remaster YouTube (6:24), like a psychedelic reiteration of the the Velvet Underground’s Jesus, The Velvet Underground - Jesus - YouTube (3:24), turned into a half-thundering rock anthem, with drums pounding and the guitars more distorted than usual, as it begins low and slow, mournful and contemplative, seeking salvation and redemption from tumultuous times, with a long build-up connecting people more deeply to the central principles of faith, with Prince later changing the lyrics when he became a Jehovah’s Witness.  While this film is a brief moment in time in the superlative career of Prince, leaving much of his Purple Rain and sex persona behind while hitting the reset button, it represents him at his best in front of a live audience, where his unparalleled musical talent and exquisite showmanship are on full display.    

Stop Making Sense

 

Jonathan Demme on camera near the end of the film

Director Jonathan Demme and David Byrne

Talking Heads 1977

Talking Heads 1984

 

 

 

 

 

 

STOP MAKING SENSE       A                                                                                                USA  (88 mi)  1984  d: Jonathan Demme

STOP MAKING SENSE creates an energetic synthesis of music and imagery, filled with the rhythmic, off-kilter, and poetic interpretations of Talking Heads who seemed a little out of the mainstream, capturing what feels like a spontaneous artistic vision that still stands alone as a concert film, though it’s impossible not to think of Prince’s Sign 'o' the Times (1987), which is funkier and more soulful, featuring a master showman.  Eliminating interviews, crowd shots, historians and other experts, this is all about the art of the performance, literally transporting viewers to a place they never knew existed, led by lead singer David Byrne’s unbridled energy and quirky mannerisms, but backed up by some extraordinary musicians, this comes across as otherworldly, yet it’s all about capturing the exhilaration of a live performance, where cinematographer Jordan Cronenweth, already infamous for the futuristic look of Blade Runner (1982), used six mounted cameras, one handheld, and one Steadicam.  Made on money that was raised by the group itself, the singular defining quality of the film is that aesthetic considerations superseded marketing decisions, taking viewers on a journey with a soulful mixture of retro pop and rock ’n’ roll, with a little bit of R&B thrown in, turning songs into individual set pieces, each with its own distinct choreography and expressionist lighting, praised for its tight editing and pacing, at times feeling bizarre, yet wildly theatrical and unpretentious, studied in film schools as an example of innovative documentary filmmaking, and added to the Complete National Film Registry Listing in 2021.  The rock ‘n’ roll documentary first developed recognition with the groundbreaking work of D.A. Pennebaker’s DON’T LOOK BACK (1967) and MONTEREY POP (1968) with a makeshift mix of concert footage, cinéma vérité backstage chatter, and scattered glimpses in the crowd of enraptured fans, reaching further heights with Michael Wadleigh’s euphoric counterculture testament to peace and love in WOODSTOCK (1970), with its adulating fans writhing in ecstasy, immersing viewers in the historical era in which these musical festivals took place, followed by the apocalyptic freefall into nightmare and disillusionment from the Maysles’ Gimme Shelter (1970), when a music documentary about a rock band at the height of their power turns into a tragic stabbing death of a young black man at the hands of a Hell’s Angel during an outdoor Rolling Stones performance at Altamont, merging concert footage with real-life horror, all but spelling the end of an era.  Throughout the next decade rock documentaries were largely self-inflated vanity projects of little interest to anyone except those already worshipping at the altar of a few notable bands, with Prince doing something of an iconic revival appearing as a movie character based on his own life in Albert Magnoli’s PURPLE RAIN (1984), which is more of a music film than a documentary, following in the footsteps of Adrian Lyne’s FLASHDANCE (1983) and Herbert Ross’ FOOTLOOSE (1984), where infectious music blares with its identification with youth.  By this time MTV was officially launched on a cable TV channel devoted entirely to music, offering neverending clips of performers in artfully staged yet commercially driven music videos, which saturated the airwaves, with the novelty quickly wearing off, each one looking very much like the next, almost exclusively catering to popular tastes, devoting much of their attention to Michael Jackson, Madonna, Bruce Springsteen, Prince, U2, the Police, and R.E.M. with a few glam rock or heavy metal bands thrown in, and a sprinkling of others.  The time was ripe for something new.   

Enter the minimalist concept of Jonathan Demme, still a relative unknown, who defers to the modernist theatricality and artistic persona of Scottish-born lead singer David Byrne, just in his early 30’s, offering a best-seat-in-the-house vantage point, creating an immersive experience for viewers, which is key, stripping down the production to the bare essentials, accentuating stage design, lighting, constant movement, and layers of sound, essentially capturing the sheer joy of the band’s dazzling December 1983 stage show shot over four nights from Hollywood’s Pantages Theater in Los Angeles to create the feeling of a continuous performance, avoiding the jump-cut style of editing associated with music videos.  While the original group, three of whom met at the Rhode Island School of Design, consists of guitarist, songwriter, and vocalist David Byrne, drummer Chris Franz, guitarist and keyboardist Jerry Harrison (who was an architecture student at Harvard), and on bass, Tina Weymouth (married to the drummer), there are some notable all-black additions, marked by the band’s growing fascination with West African and black American funk rhythms, adding guitarist Alex Weir from the Brothers Johnson, keyboardist Bernie Worrell from George Clinton’s Parliament-Funkadelic, percussionist Steve Scales, and dancers and backup vocalists extraordinaire Lynn Mabry, also from P-Funk, and Ednah Holt, adding plenty of 70’s soulful funk to what was viewed as a white 80’s punk band who got their start opening for the Ramones doing mid-70’s CBGB shows, a dive bar in the Bowery that served as the breeding ground of punk.  Byrne also collaborated with dancer and choreographer Twyla Tharp by writing the music for her 1981 Broadway show The Catherine Wheel, a mix of ballet and modern dance, while also making a number of music videos with choreographer Toni Basil, which may have played a part in his developing stage persona.  The film begins with a close-up on Byrne’s white shoes as he approaches an empty stage alone in his gray boxy suit, introducing himself with the brief remark, “Hi, I got a tape I want to play,” as he places a boombox on the floor before launching into Psycho Killer, Talking Heads - Psycho Killer (Stop Making Sense 84) [4K] YouTube (5:22).  While the programmed drum beats are coming from a control booth, Byrne’s quick, staccato-like rhythmic guitar offers a piercing counterbalance to the shock lyrics delving into a stream-of-consciousness mindset of a deranged killer, “I’m tense and nervous and I can’t relax,” who seems to get some strange satisfaction by mixing in a few esoteric French lyrics into the chorus, but what stands out is the upbeat new wave arrangement of such a downbeat subject.  It’s a bizarre experience, as the lead singer is doing things that are profoundly odd, but strangely inventive, very serious and intent on what he’s doing.  The sound is astonishingly clear, attributed to the pioneering use of 24-track digital recording for the first time in movie history, while shots of people, doors, ladders, stairs, and unused equipment can be seen in the wings of the stage as he performs a wildly ebullient version of the song, bringing an artsy cool to the rendition, which certainly gets us in the mood for what follows.  The New York Times magazine did a cover story on Byrne in 1985 proclaiming him the “thinking man’s rock star” (THE CREATIVE MIND; DAVID BYRNE: THINKING MAN'S ...), while he was also featured on the cover of Time magazine, which called Byrne “rock’s renaissance man” (Rock's Renaissance Man - TIME), so superlatives are in order just from the very first song. 

Featuring unbounded energy and musical excellence, the film places an emphasis on the artist’s identity even over the songs themselves, led by frontman David Byrne, who is almost always the center of attention, measured but eccentric, paving the way for American new wave music with his own idiosyncratic style, doing a kind of jerky, back-and-forth dance to the rich mesh of African percussion, guitars, basslines, and synthesizers.  Scorsese’s The Last Waltz (1978) celebrates the legacy of the band and their accomplishments while providing background interview footage to establish an emotional connection.  None of that exists here, with nothing to break the musical momentum, almost never leaving the stage and the performers themselves, with none of those angled-up shots from below the stage that form the backbone of other concert documentaries, no swooping overhead shots, or a reliance upon fixed positions, instead transporting viewers to the stage, with the camera engaging with the band itself, always staying at eye level with its subjects, where the beauty of this film is that such a dazzling performance can actually be experienced at home, or in an IMAX theater, giving viewers an option, where there’s no definitive way to perceive what it’s about, as each viewer can be moved in their own way by the power of the music and the sheer artistry involved, putting on the best show possible, where you never know what’s coming next.  One thing that immediately stands out is that you don’t need a psychedelic light show or artificial add-ons to create an atmosphere, instead there is a simplicity to the progression of the show, as the music’s complexity builds from number to number, as one by one musicians are added to the stage, while a clearly visible yet silent road crew dressed in black sets up equipment in plain sight of viewers, yet existing in the shadows, bringing on a platform for the drums, amplifiers, and two sets of keyboards, stretching all the way to the edge of the stage, while also taking guitars from the hands of performers, exchanging new ones for the next song.  With matching costumes and choreography, no one is ever seen drinking water or any other beverage, as there are simply no distractions, yet the level of energy is consistently ramped up, with Byrne acting out each song as a distinct mini-drama, looking a bit like Norman Bates from Psycho (1960), where his lanky, free-floating body movements defy the laws of gravity, exhibiting a range of nervous expression that is thoroughly captivating.  As bassist Tina Weymouth arrives for the calm after the storm, adding a softening presence from the jarring sounds that we just heard, the next song is a duet, TALKING HEADS Heaven (Live 1983) [HQ] YouTube (3:50), adding a layered vocal harmony, feeling like an evocative lullaby, yet the female voice is heard but not seen, as it turns out to be Lynn Mabry mysteriously singing offstage.  It’s an unusual choice not to visibly feature her, as her perfectly harmonious voice is so significant, yet it’s part of the overall cinematic symmetry of geometric progression adding new members one by one, where the change is gradual but obvious, adding the drums, then the guitar, until finally adding the keyboard with the band fully functioning with Slippery People Live in Stereo David Byrne & Talking Heads ... YouTube (4:40), and the result is electrifying, just a wall of sound, with Byrne dancing with the backup singers, who add a fresh jolt of kinetic energy to the group, where the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.  By the time we get to Talking Heads - Burning Down The House (Stop Making Sense 84) [4K] YouTube (4:02), the stage is filled with unbridled joy, culminating in a thunderous full-band arrangement of their biggest hit, with Byrne literally going into a trance from the furiously hypnotic beat before finally sprinting in place with Alex Weir.   

While there are a multitude of close-ups, or groups of interactions together, wide shots are scattered throughout the film, using as few cameras as possible to keep them from appearing in the frame, where the use of dissolves and stark lighting choices add a cinematic intensity, while offering the feel of cameras floating around the stage.  Few other concert films have exhibited flawless control over its music and visuals to create such an intimate experience as this one does, where according to Demme, “This isn’t a concert film, it’s a performance film,” but the intensity reaches new heights once all band members are onstage together, where you’d think it’s impossible to sustain the amped-up energy level, yet the film segways into a true showstopper, Life During Wartime Live by Talking Heads in Stop ... - YouTube (5:48), reminding us “This ain’t no party, this ain’t no disco, this ain’t no fooling around,” featuring more running in place, this time including the entire frontline, all in synch with the thundering rhythm, with Byrne flapping his arms, as if attempting to take flight, before weaving his body in strange contortions, somehow resembling a bobble head, even writhing on the floor, where by this time they are really cutting it loose, revving up the crowd, where it’s a party of epic proportions before Byrne starts running around the stage, literally doing laps as the stomping music reminds us once again just how to have fun.  There are drastic lighting changes designed by Byrne, turning into a red backdrop, as if for the coming apocalypse in Talking Heads - Swamp (Stop Making Sense) YouTube (4:33), with a very nerdy-looking Byrne subversively poking fun at the nation state (it was the Reagan years, an era when anything weird was labeled “gay”), suggesting a tenuous balance in the works with this funky tune.  Byrne introduces a lampshade in Talking Heads - This Must Be The Place (Naive Melody) [Stop Making Sense, 1984] YouTube (5:31), with bookshelves in the back, as if sitting in the study surrounded by the comforts of home, before close-up images of various body parts are projected onto a screen behind them, while also creating distorted shadows from the lamp.  Despite the soothing calm, there is a funky bassline that prevails throughout in a thumping rhythm before Byrne does a marvelous little dance with the lamp, literally bringing viewers into the light, apparently lifted from Fred Astaire in ROYAL WEDDING (1951), though not nearly so stylish, Dancing With A Hat Rack 1951 (Fred Astaire) - YouTube (4:13), but eloquent just the same.  Once again we’re reeled into the infectious sounds of another signature work, mostly filmed in a single shot until he deftly pulls others into the picture, Talking Heads - Once In A Lifetime (Stop Making Sense 84) [4k] YouTube (5:34), listed at #28 on the 2021 Rolling Stone list of 500 Greatest Songs of All Time, with that celestial opening, where the bass is repetitive throughout, never changing, manipulating the space between darkness and light through evangelic phrases, featuring iconic lyrics that will forever be associated with this particular band, co-written by Brian Eno, (And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife, and you may ask yourself, ‘Well, how did I get here?’), sung by a perpetually confused Byrne in glasses as the personification of a working stiff’s midlife crisis, described by The Guardian as the most perfect song of all time (David Bridie: Once in a Lifetime by Talking Heads is ...).  It’s a pained yet intoxicating vision of middle class malaise, told from the point of view of a poor schmuck living in the suburbs, one of millions of people who felt disconnected from their materially comfortable lives, filled with spiraling debt and disenchantment, drowning under the weight of stress and uncertainty, suddenly waking to an existential nightmare, where this feeling of alienation stretches across time, “same as it ever was.” 

Certainly part of Demme’s masterful direction is revealing the interactions between various performers, a collective of individual artists in sync with each other, or even with a lamp, where there is sheer wonderment, as viewers are treated to the shock of surprise from what happens next, as seemingly ordinary camera shots turn into creative angles that only enhance the intensity of the performance overall, with visual consultant Sandy McLeod communicating the best shots to use via headphones during the shooting.  There are subtle shifts in the setting to keep viewers offguard, but only slightly, as Byrne brings out the big, oversized suit in Talking Heads - Girlfriend Is Better (Stop Making Sense 84) [4k] YouTube (5:08), with his tiny head sticking out, which has a comical effect, as if suddenly immersed in a cartoon.  While he is the frontman, attracting all the attention, what’s irrefutable is that every member contributes to the whole, each one recognizable from the other, with Byrne seemingly bringing out their best with his wiggly arms, spontaneously interacting with the lighting and camera guys who help out with the chorus of “Stop Making Sense.” while plenty of rap and funk makes their way into this song.  Audiences are inevitably comparing studio versions against concert performances, where this film makes the case that the concert footage is better in every respect.  Rarely has a live performance surpassed the studio version of this many songs, as the added visuals literally revitalize every moment with newfound discoveries which simply weren’t there before.  A perfect example is the cover version of Al Green’s Take Me to the River, the only cover the band recorded over its entire career, a song that merges gospel with more earthly interests, played as slow as possible before adding their own special twists, Talking Heads - Take Me To The River-1984 [HD] YouTube (8:08), flooded in a green and blue light, becoming a baptismal by fire, a call and response hymn, where Byrne has stripped off the big suit jacket but still has on the puffy pants, looking even weirder when he puts on the red cap.  Nonetheless, this song has a hypnotic quality to it, where the baseline and backup vocals really carry the song, with a minimalist yet glorious synthesizer adding a scorching effect.  The crowd isn’t even shown until the last song of the show, Crosseyed and Painless (HD) - Talking Heads Live from Stop Making Sense YouTube (7:14), a rhythmic rant of abstract ideas with plenty of percussion and a Frank Zappa-like jazz-infused melodic theme.  Unfortunately, in a sign of the ephemeral nature of things, though the Talking Heads never officially announced a breakup, by 1989 the group had essentially split.  The inevitable conclusion to draw is that this is not just a concert film, but an experience, where even decades later there has never been anything like this.  A fusing of the minds of both Demme and Byrne, both venerated artists in their own right, but brought together to achieve a common goal, the artistic aesthetic is off the charts.  Understanding that the stage is more than something to perform on, what stands out is the innovative storytelling approach and meticulous attention to detail, where the proof is in the small decisions that were collectively made to produce such an enthralling, one-of-a-kind experience that has become a time capsule for concert films, removing all distance between viewer and performer, effortlessly inspiring audience interaction, evoking a spirit of community and celebration, while transcending all cultural boundaries.