True Stories

Of all movies that seem to, for some reason, want to glorify the 80's - this film shows us simply how we were. Should be placed in the Smithsonian.

Don't compare it to Guffman or any other movie. I doubt Byrne thought of it as any sort of genre piece - in fact it's hardly a movie at all. It's simply what happens when a talented performance artist is given a lot of money.

I weep, however, for Warner Brother's marketing department as they tried to sell it. All in all they failed. Tag line should be: "We gave David Byrne a lot of money to make a movie, come see what he made."

Follow the "external review" link to Roger Ebert's excellent review.

That's what he told me, at the end of the movie. The sophisticated New Yorker, the witty Kubrick fan with his degree in film, sat there stunned on the floor; I could almost see the smoke coming out of his ears.

To try and describe it is something like attempting to nail Jell-O to the wall. There's no plot, really; but there are a lot of things going on, threads of peoples' lives, loosely connected. The film describes itself as being "about a bunch of people in Virgil, Texas" and it is, but actually it's about the wonderful absurdity, lunacy even, of "normal" American life. David Byrne's Narrator character isn't condescending or snide. He's innocent, wondering, matter-of-fact. He looks at the cookie-cutter tract houses and asks, "Who can say it isn't beautiful?"

This is a very unique little movie, and people either seem to get it, or not. I can never predict who will or won't catch the humor. But, if you're not smiling by the end of the intro sequence, this probably isn't the movie for you. Personally, I was laughing my butt off by then. I can't say that this movie made me a better person, but it did add something to my world and gave me a great appreciation for the mind of David Byrne.

In the fictional Texas town of Virgil musician David Bryne arrives to make a documentary about the inhabitants. He meets a raft of characters at the same time as the town's `celebration of specialness'.

What is it? A documentary? A comedy? A rock film? It's not clear. However despite the unclear genre it still manages to be good – even if it's an unique film in terms of style. The comedy comes from both Bryne's and our bemused observation of the slightly kooky nature of small town life.

Bryne is a great narrator. He has a bemused quizzical air the whole time and many of his `to camera' lines are very funny if a little surreal. The characters themselves are almost worthy of Altman in terms of how quirky yet believable they are. Goodman is the best as the lonely ladies man looking for love. But other characters such as the lying lady (Allen) and the eccentric owner of the town (Spalding Gray).

If you don't like the music of David Bryne and the Talking Heads then you may dislike this as much of the second as it becomes mainly music and less Bryne. However it still manages to be funny. Overall this is much better than expected and fans of Bryne will simply love it.

At this late date, TRUE STORIES – the lone feature film directed by renaissance man/rock-n-roll artiste/ex-Rhode Island School of Design student David Byrne - is viewed (if remembered as all) as a cerebral artifact from the 80s. TRUE STORIES is a far from flawless film, and its' influence is highly debatable. But the 90s saw an explosion of films wrapped in an aura of aloof, ironic cool – bits of very low-key postmodernist voyeuristic glimpses into the day-to-day lives of 'ordinary people' – either lauded or ridiculed for their 'authenticity.'

Simultaneously, a number of feature films were also exploring the limits of a dubious sub-style known as faux-documentary. And – great or not – this fascinating film reworked the possibilities of both long before most of the competition. In essence, this is a very detached take on the musical – set in fictional Virgil, Texas – a small-but-growing prairie boomtown notable for its antiseptic normality. Each of the principal characters are based upon people Byrne (who co-wrote the screenplay) had read about in tabloid newspapers – hence the man so lonely he buys commercial time to advertise himself on TV (John Goodman), the laziest woman in the world (Swoozie Kurtz), the world's worst pathological liar (Jo Harvey Allen), and spectacles like the mall fashion show, where we get to see (among other treats) a 3-piece suit made entirely out of lawn clippings (What?!?! No macramé, velvet paintings, tractor pulls or decoupage?). Byrne – who appears as a travel guide/narrator - gently escorts the audience through this offbeat parade, as the varied denizens of Virgil do what they do, occasionally pausing to sing one of the numerous songs (genre exercises well-matched to the characters - watch for a great 'Papa Legba' performed by the late Pops Staples) written by Byrne for the film. At worst, TRUE STORIES could be viewed as the enthusiastic and genuinely inspired work of an ambitious, intellectual urbanite who really, really ought to get out more – and Byrne should be credited for not indulging in the sneering, aloof insularity that has occasionally infected more recent films of this variety.

But at best it comes across as a genuine attempt at presenting a unique variety of homegrown, Americana-style surrealism – something that might possibly qualify as a specific strand of folk art and culture that would be a rural counterpart to what folks like Keith Haring, Laurie Anderson, Barbara Krueger, Spalding Grey – and Byrne – were doing in the insular world of Manhattan in the 1980s. TRUE STORIES looks amazing – thanks to the sparse cinematography, and Spalding Grey, John Goodman (as Byrne's comic foil) and Pops Staples are all great. A genuinely seminal, if flawed film.

I'm wary of Talking Heads or David Byrne fans that hated 'True Stories.' This film has David Byrne written all over it, and is possibly the ultimate expression of his sensibility.

Byrne was always a most unusual rock star. The only other musical figure in my mind that comes close is Laurie Anderson, and they were both part of the same scene. Byrne's personality is most intriguing and ambiguous; strange, yet unaffected, nerd-ish, but not nerdy, fascinating, but not theatrical. An outrageous introvert, Byrne is like the odd little boy who instead of playing with the other kids, spends his time tinkering and tooling with his parents' electronics -- except, Byrne is a cultural tinkerer, looking at things from a perspective so delicately skewed that a casual glance might reveal nothing at all out of the ordinary. In this manner, "True Stories" is like a David Lynch film in its depiction of small town weirdness, but where Lynch sees a sinister underbelly to the banal, Byrne remains sunnily ambivalent.

The cinematography here is done by Ed Lachman, who has worked with directors such as Paul Schrader, Werner Herzog, Wim Wenders, and Steven Soderbergh. It echoes David Byrne's own photography in the way it flatly looks at objects and places head-on, revealing irony by being unironic. A lot of critics have accused Byrne -- from his hipster Lower Manhattan pulpit, I guess -- of contempt for small-town America, but is that really evident here? I don't sense that Byrne is ridiculing any of these characters so much as simply regarding them, perhaps even with some degree of affection.

The look and feel of the movie reminds me of Jim Jarmusch's films a bit, but there aren't really any "stories" told here so much as light vignettes. Upon viewing the film for the first time, one might be underwhelmed, but this is the sort of movie that sneaks up on you upon repeated viewings. There's a lot to treasure here. David Byrne stars in the film as the "narrator," a sort of tour guide that Steven H. Scheuer described as a "new age Mr. Rogers" (doesn't Byrne kind of remind you of Mr. Rogers? I mean, what can be said for a rock star that reminds you of Mr. Rogers and makes completely funky music?), showing the viewer around the fictional town of Virgil, Texas. We meet Virgil's various oddball inhabitants. John Goodman is the world's most eligible bachelor, so desperate for matrimony that he places a "Wife Wanted" sign on his front lawn (in the shape of an arrow, with blinking lights) and appears on television in a commercial advertisement, boasting a 1-800 number for interested bachelorettes. Swoozie Kurtz is the world's laziest woman, who hasn't left her bed in about a decade, which is the same length of time for which Earl Culver (Spalding Gray), founder of Virgil-based corporation VeriCorp, has not spoken with his wife, with whom he is happily married. And then there's Mr. Tucker, the town's voodoo priest and part-time caretaker of the world's laziest woman, played by 'Pops' Staples who is a sweet, gentle angel here, and whose "Papa Legba" furnishes the movie with its best musical number. We even get to attend church, where the pastor's sermon is like a compilation of conspiracy theories, questioning the link between Bobby Ray Inman, toilet paper and Elvis, leading into the song "Puzzlin' Evidence."

"True Stories" looks at small town America in a fashion similar to the way Tim Burton looks at suburban USA. With Talking Heads songs as well as original music by Meredith Monk, Kronos Quartet, and others, there's a magical quality that stirs beneath the surface. In possibly the film's best scene, ending in what looks like the most bizarre parody of The Last Supper I've ever seen, Spalding Gray gives an impromptu lecture over dinner about the future of Virgil, exploiting the entrées for metaphors while the dinner china quite literally comes to life to illustrate his points. In his customarily child-like deadpan, Byrne interjects, "Excuse me, Mr. Culver, I've forgotten what these peppers represent."

This film made me think of those historical museums you find in most small towns in America, whose employees are almost always lifelong residents of said small town, speaking with pride and conviction about the importance of their city. These are places for which Byrne clearly has an affinity, and also community centers, shopping malls, taverns, churches, and talent shows.

These places are absurd, yes, but also as wondrous as any theme park.