True Stories

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.

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.

Although some scenes (like the fashion show) are clear absurdist parodies, Byrne tends to approach his topics more as an observer than a critic. Often the tone is sympathetic, never critical.

Although much of Byrne's commentary is at best cryptic or anticlimactic ("Personally, I believe -- I can see Ft. Worth from here."), there is much profundity beneath the absurdism. Byrne's reflections on forgetting are particularly apt.

This is not a film to approach with any expectations. Just watch and absorb, and let what you see percolate in your mind.

John Goodman's character is also the most charming Everyman to grace the screen since Marty.

The music sequences are also among the best I've ever seen.

Rent it and watch it on a big screen TV. Watch sober. Watch under the influence of your favorite mind-altering substance. Watch alone. Watch with friends. Watch when you're alert and rested. Watch when you're tired. Watch again and again.

The film itself is rich in it's look and content. True stories is Set in A fictional small town in Texas, celebrating the 150th anniversary of the state in it's own small way. Byrne points out how many small American towns shape themselves politically and culturally from the inside. The scenes of the vast Texas landscape reflect the isolation of little Virgil. Byrne drives past a row of brand new houses with four car garages and asks "who do you think lives here?", much like he does in some of his TH songs such as "Big Country" and "Dont Worry About the Government". When we do meet who lives there we are greeted by a quite eclectic bunch; the world's laziest woman, Louis the desperate bachelor, Ramon, the voodoo priest. Often when we visit small unassuming towns, we are surprised by what we find. Byrne's character obviously had some assumptions about Virgil, Texas. He walks around town in a stetson hat and cowboy shirts and wonders why everyone else doesn't dress the same way. The songs are terrific in the film. I was well familiar with the TH album of the same name before I saw the film, but many of the renditions are on par with the unofficial soundtrack, particularly "papa legba" and Goodman's "people like us". The movie is an homage to Byrne's fascination to small town America and folk art. Byrne's commentary over a series of photo montages are great too, like when he gives the history of Texas in about 3 minutes noting that "the Spaniards offered the indians a chance to become slaves. The indians thought about this, decided it was not a good idea, and killed the Spaniards" Those that really dislike this movie are, on some level, just not getting it.