They are just grooving along, and we get to be a part of it - a special shout out goes to guitarist Bobby Wooton III, who looks like he is having the time of his life, and vocalists/dancers, Tendayi Kuumba and Chris Giarmo, who, with each song, perform interpretive dances with precision and unison, allowing the music to flow through them, and take over their bodies. Like each member of the Talking Heads extended band in 1984, everyone on stage in American Utopia bounces around in their choreographed formations (choreography and musical staging by Annie-B Parson), but also sings along to the music with smiles on their face. This enthusiasm is something equally noticeable in Stop Making Sense, the 1984 Talking Heads concert film directed by Jonathan Demme, recognised by many as one of the best concert films ever made. Unfortunately, I was unable to see the performance on Broadway, but Lee has been able to pull off a replication of a feeling of infectious enthusiasm and energy. To be able to hear the music being played live on stage, to witness the staging in person, is hard to replicate on screen. Photo: Matthew Murphy © 2019Ī live performance can be quite an electric thing. In ‘Blind’, the camera tilts to match the effect of the band falling from one side of the stage to the other. During Talking Heads hits such as ‘This Must Be the Place’ and ‘Slippery People,’ Lee pulls the camera back into the audience, so that the shadows of the audience on their feet, dancing and singing along, frames the band. Lee’s direction and use of camera work (helmed by cinematographer, Ellen Kuras) works to match the energy of each song. We sometimes spectate from a birds-eye-view, which is particularly fantastic during fan-favourite ‘Burning Down the House’, where the band moves like a pinwheel in precise unison, and the stage’s back corner, where the gold light filters through and silhouettes everyone in ‘Born Under Punches (Heat Goes On)’. Lee expertly explores these angles in a perfect synergy of camera and staging, focusing on shadows, using low-angle shots, or placing the camera at vantage points the theatre audience is not privy to. The simple setting of a bare stage, framed by walls of long silver chains, with excellent lighting design by Rob Sinclair, which transforms the bare stage with each song, and each person costumed in the same all-grey suit and barefoot, creates an incredibly visually dynamic staging. It also appeals to my habit when watching any stage show, where I seek out the most attractive ensemble member and keep an eye out for them with the filmed version, the camera can move in closely around the stage so that each of the unfairly attractive band members get their close-up, Mr. Byrne has an explanation for this: humans love to look at other people, so why not remove everything from the stage, leaving just the most important things? Because, as Byrne says to the audience, “Looking at people? Yeah, that’s the best.” It’s a salient message that is even more relevant now than it was during the show’s late 2019 to early 2020 run (which was shut down early due to COVID-19). Instead, each percussionist and the keyboard player, who are usually restricted to one spot, wear their instruments mounted onto their bodies. The 11 band members, which Byrne all introduces individually in a segment part way through the show between songs, move freely around the stage, untethered by instrument stands or microphones. Comprising Byrne and his 11-piece band on a bare stage, the show is both a retrospective of Byrne’s career, including songs from his band Talking Heads, as well as tracks from his solo career and a few collaborations, all culminating in an exploration that tries to make sense of the world. However, as the song leads into Talking Heads’ 1977 hit ‘Don’t Worry About the Government’ (a song about people who have become too comfortable in their convenient lives that they ignore the way humans are destroying the world), it’s also the beginning of a journey, through apathy, joy, despair, and hope.ĭirected for the screen by the one and only Spike Lee, American Utopia is a wonderful viewing experience. The song, ‘I Know Sometimes a Man Is Wrong’ from his 1989 album Rei Momo, is a bit of a yearning lament over the distance between two people (“they’ll be wrong, until you’re next to me”). Thus sings David Byrne during the second opening number of his Broadway show David Byrne’s American Utopia.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |