Friday Dance Break: This Must Be The Place

How can you improve on this original? Apparently if you add Sean Penn and Frances McDormand and build a movie around the perfect notes that Byrne and others achieved in Stop Making Sense… Love, love, love the Talking Heads, and in theory David Byrne, though I met him in Ottawa, at the Writer’s Festival, and found him to be a bit of a cold fish, damp, lanky, preoccupied, and strangely out of place in an elevator in Ottawa…

For the record: two out of two toddlers can’t sit still when the Talking Heads pops up on the iPod shuffle. One, two, three notes is all they need. Can’t wait for this film, which at first glance seemed really, really, silly. But I’m being won over before it even arrives in Montreal. Not because of Eve Hewson, Bono’s daughter, making her debut, and not because of McDormand, who I’ll watch reading, walking, sitting, whatever, and not because of Penn, but because of the over-the-top emotional quality of the thing. And the balls to try and re-frame The Talking Heads

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