True Stories

True stories, while considered a comedy, should not be limited by that role.

It is of course a comedy, but it is really so much more, because, as the film claims, it is a 'multi-purpous' movie.

To fully understand this film's meaning, we first have to first look at what this film is about. A bunch of people living in Virgil, Texas. It is important to note this because this film is not about the place, as it is about the people who live in that place, for, really, what is a city without people?

True Stories examines one man in particular amongst all the others. Louis Fyne, or Louis the Bear. Louis is the quintessential common man in all of his glory. He is not a real man, but a symbolic character, much as everything else in this film, and it is his own stark conveyance of his personality which allows us to say, 'yeah, I know how he feels,' because deep down inside, we all want what Louis wants, and that, of course, is love.

Swoosie Kurtz, as the lazing Miss Rollings, represents another typical American feature. Materialism. Miss Rollings, despite her enormous wealth is not content, and hence her appetite for consumption, she too, is looking for love, but does not yet know it. It takes Louis' performance for her to realize that she, too, is lonely.

These two characters, Fyne and Rollings, are the main symbolic features of this film. It is there search for fulfillment, and eventual arrival at that fulfillment, which comprises the bulk of the film. This is not to say that they alone are the only symbolics in search of love, for example, the assembly line conversation expresses many different modern views on love, and the many feelings associated with it (bitterness, lust, heartbreak). And also the search for significance and meaning are taken by the 'cute' woman (she cannot bare sadness, and so chooses to ignore it, focusing only on the cute things), and the Lying Woman (who is obviously disappointed by the reality of her life, and so seeks to enrich it, and impress it, by making up for her lacking reality with a rich and vibrant fictional history). However, there is more to this film then just the search for love and significance.

There is the Varicorp head (the defacto ruler of Virgil) and his love for business and overall work which shows the corporate obsession in today's America. The line at the dinner table about work and pleasure is merging together is brought home earlier in the film by the varitech tourgide Byrne talks to in the mall of Virgil (he is working on a project at home, for his own pleasure) the trick of the future then is learning how to keep these inventors inside Virgil, and harness their power.

This brings us to the technology theme. Technology is a major theme throughout the entire film. We are all trying to use the latest technology to make our lives easier, and fulfill our desires. Louis speaks briefly on a computer dating service he used briefly, and the resulting woes we now frequently associate with such ventures (he ended up with a midget). The Varitech tourguide speaks of computers as a form of expression, like an art.

What is truly amazing is how true this observation has really become. No longer is it just the geek building a PC out of a box, or a processor taking up an entire football field, now we have computers everywhere, built into all our facets of life, and many of us feel more comfortable expressing ourselves over a digital medium than our typical tactile method.

Structures are also highly symbolic in this film. The multipurpose boxlike structure of vari-corp, the likewise square shape of the stage, the metal buildings, and even the suburban housing developments are all symbolic of the different ways humans have found ways to not only live their dreams out, but mass order them. In True Stories the idea of the house as the platform of the dream is brought forward with amazing clarity. The suburban sprawl exists as the homebase for the modern American worker, and the cultivation of a family (or lack thereof, as doomsday is, after all, right around the corner) is the progression of the individual dream. On a business sense, Byrne looks the possible cheapening of that dream with the construction metal building. Order it out of a catalog, and in a couple of days, maybe a week, it's done.

Spirituality and religion is another aspect of this film that deserves observance. Notice the difference between organized religion, and the vague, hazy voodoo christianic faith that are portrayed in this film. What good does the preacher in the church do compared to the work of the witch doctor (if he did indeed do anything at all). Notice that while the Mexican character is the keyboardist for the church, he is also selling the address of the old witch doctor, and that while all the members of Virgil seem to show up at the large church, the witch doctor still gets plenty of business (as is represented by the large amount of photographs in the shrine).

Consumerism in a broader sense (more than just materialism) is also apparent in True Stories. Shopping is a Feeling is an excellent portrayal of the consumer American. People are no longer shopping to acquire, but to experience. It is a sort of religious, enriching experience, as people share the shopping feeling with their friends and loved ones.

Time is also a major element in True Stories. In speaking of the history of Virgil, Byrne goes all the way back to the days when the area was covered by ocean, and of course, the song, City of Dreams, is a very transcental piece examining the passage of ideas from people to people.

Finally we must look at music as a form of communication, possibly the largest aspect of the entire film (and understandable, too, considering that this film is technically a musical), music is taken beyond mere entertainment and portrayed as a way of conveying feeling, emotion, and truth. Louis' highly anticipated song conveys much about his character, as does Dream Operator for wife of the Varicorp head. Every song in True Stories serves a purpose in conveying the nature of a character.

In summation, True Stories is a film about America in a microcostic sense. Virgil is America. And we are the special people Virgil is celebrating, because even the most magnificent people don't look that special at first glance. And of course, even though some ideas presented in the film are slightly scary, Byrne makes not opinionated statements. He take everything in, and gives it out, with that same subdued earnestness we have come to expect by the end of the film, and it leaves us wandering, perhaps none of all this is really that bad after all, just different.

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.

Of all movies that seem to, for some reason, want to glorify the 80's - this film shows us simply how we were. Should be placed in the Smithsonian.

Don't compare it to Guffman or any other movie. I doubt Byrne thought of it as any sort of genre piece - in fact it's hardly a movie at all. It's simply what happens when a talented performance artist is given a lot of money.

I weep, however, for Warner Brother's marketing department as they tried to sell it. All in all they failed. Tag line should be: "We gave David Byrne a lot of money to make a movie, come see what he made."

Follow the "external review" link to Roger Ebert's excellent review.

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.