True Stories

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.