Ride, Rise, Roar

This tour documentary about the former lead man of Taking Heads is an interesting look at an eternally recreative spirit. Sure, you could be negative and say it's no Stop Making Sense, but then name me one other concert film of the last 25 years that stands up to that seminal movie? What this captures is one of modern music's most interesting creators heading into his twilight years as a public performer. I've followed David Byrne's career all the way from Talking Heads, and while he only rarely comes up with songs that can match his heyday output, he continues to be a fascinating musician, constantly pushing himself and trying new approaches. I saw him live on the tour which this film documents, and while it wasn't my favourite show of his, I liked that he was experimenting, incorporating dance routines into the fabric of the performance. This isn't a Rolling Stones-type showman, who simply trots out decades-old hits that the fans are going to mindlessly lap up. At the same time he's not a Bob Dylan-style crank either, mangling his classics and disconnecting himself from his audience. Instead Byrne throws in the olden goldies in an enjoyable way, but also offers up new material, in a crowd-pleasing and envelope-pushing combination. This film won't make you get up and dance in the aisles the way Stop Making Sense did, but it's a nice reminder that some artists CAN grow old gracefully and continue to be a meaningful presence in their field.

Anyone with any sense would not go to this movie expecting Talking Heads. Byrne hasn't been a TH for twenty years and has I expect tried to move on, branch out and create new works of art. Unfortunately, as he accepted in the Q&A broadcast with Paul Morley, Stop Making Sense has proved to be an albatross around his neck for the past 30 years. And this documentary has him clutching at musical straws. The inclusion of interpretive dancers, is perhaps his greatest faux pas. Although put together by ground-breaking choreographers the result is amateur. The aim to get the backing singers and dancers to cross boundaries and become what they are not makes for some particularly painful results, especially when one of the dancers is allowed not only to hold a guitar (which is gruesome itself when the dancers perform holding electric guitars), but is allowed to play on one of Byrne's newer tracks, Holy Moly! And dancing like geriatrics on office chairs good god, what was he thinking? The musical parts of the documentary are lacklustre, the band feel like they are going through the motions, and the revamped Head's track's do little except show how fantastic Stop Making Sense was, and the newer Byrne and Eno tracks just drift. Making music via email may sound modern and exciting but the results are uninspiring and dull, if not a little cringeworthy. This perhaps the first time I have seen Brian Eno and thought he's lost the plot.

As Paul Morley delicately suggested during the Q&A, the energy a pop musician has when they are young results in magnificent works of art but maybe as the artist becomes older, is more comfortable and less energised, their work fails to live up to the promise of their early years. Nothing could be truer if this documentary is anything to go by. The film making unfortunately does nothing to improve the cinematic experience, either. The talky parts are in black and white, the music in colour...wow! As a piece of concert footage Curtis shows he is no Demme, the editing is pedestrian, the choice of shots uninspiring, and the talky parts of the film were not very interesting.

A truly, truly dull film.