Category: Something Wonderful

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Be Spontaneous

Beauregard-Keyes house
This is the view that inspired us to tour the Beauregard-Keyes House

If you, like my husband, are a naturally spontaneous person, this post isn’t for you.

If, like me, you tend to be a planner and a list-maker, let me tell you about an experience that reminded me of the joy of (occasional) spontaneity.

My husband and I recently traveled to New Orleans. Normally, I plan vacations carefully, but this trip was different. I had some ideas about things I’d like to do. But I didn’t really have the bandwidth to make much of an itinerary or reservations. Besides, the trip was supposed to be a gift from my husband, which I hoped meant that I could offload much of the planning to him. In my heart, I knew that wasn’t going to work; he’s not a planner.

The result is that we had plane tickets and lodging reservations. We knew when we were going to watch a parade. And we had reservations for a swamp tour and a graveyard tour. That was it. Whole days were unplanned, something I normally don’t allow to happen when planning a vacation.

Our empty schedule meant that we had time for discoveries. On our first full day in New Orleans, we passed an interesting garden on our way to breakfast. We learned that the garden belonged to the Beauregard-Keyes House, which was open for tours. We decided to stop by on our way back to the hotel.

The moment the docent opened the door and teased us with “You’re late!” we knew we were going to love her. Since we were the only two people on the tour, we had plenty of time for questions, stories, and photographs. The docent was glad to lead a tour for people who were so engaged with what she had to say; we were glad to get such an interesting tour. It never would have happened if we hadn’t had room for it in our schedule.

In the gift shop, we encountered another bit of serendipity. As I purchased Dinner at Antoine’s, a book by the house’s most famous long-term resident, Frances Parkinson Keyes, the person who was staffing the shop told us that there was an excellent prix fixe lunch menu at Antoine’s. We went, and the lunch we had was my favorite meal during the trip. I’d read about Antoine’s and wanted to eat there, but I’d been thinking of going for dinner, which would have been far more expensive.

It wouldn’t be true to say that I don’t have a spontaneous bone in my body. When I was a kid, I used to wish that we could pull off at random roadside attractions during vacations, but the person who was driving was generally focused on getting to our destination, with all stops along the way already planned. And right after graduating from college, I decided pretty much at the last minute to drive a friend from Minnesota to Los Angeles.

But I like to make plans, and that has served me well. Many of the vacations I’ve taken have included experiences I wouldn’t have had if they hadn’t been planned ahead of time. Likewise, if I have plans (and I usually do, even if my plan is just “today I’m going to relax with a good book”), I have a hard time graciously switching gears and saying “yes” to a spontaneous invitation.

People who aren’t planners are probably scratching their heads right now. What kind of person needs to write about how spontaneous choices can be wonderful? Doesn’t everyone know that?

But people like me will understand. We planners enjoy knowing what to expect (more or less) each day. But we need to keep in mind that leaving room for the unexpected can be wonderful. Serendipity rarely visits someone with a crowded schedule.

So if you are a planner like me, go ahead and make the plans that bring you joy. But be sure also to have unplanned time in your schedule, so that you can say “yes” to the fun surprises life throws your way.

Last week I wrote about rebelling against the “shoulds” in your life. One “should” I’ve been dealing with lately? “I should write my blog post for Monday.” At one point I had written several weeks ahead, but a busy period at work slowed down my blogging. Those surplus posts are a thing of the past. I’ve hit another busy patch, and squeezing in a weekly post has been a challenge. So I’m taking a break until the Monday after Easter (April 22). Although this coincides nicely with Lent, I’m not really giving up the blog for Lent. Instead, I hope to remove the pressure of writing weekly posts for a while and give myself some breathing room in the future by having a few posts written by the time my break is over.

Thanks for reading my blog! 

 

 

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Stories of Arrival and Others

Ted Chiang Stories of Your Life and Others inspired Arrival       Arrival was inspired by Ted Chiang's Stories of Your Life and Others

I’ve been thinking about recommending Arrival in a blog post for some time. Many science fiction aficionados know that it’s one of the best films in the genre released in the last decade. While I love action-packed stories, there is something special about this thought-provoking movie. Told from the perspective of a linguist who is recruited to try to learn how to communicate with alien visitors, Arrival asks: How does language shape the way we perceive the world? What if learning a new language drastically altered our perception? How would that change us? How would it change the ways we interact with the world and make decisions?

There’s little I can say about the plot without giving key elements away. Perhaps it’s best that I didn’t devote a post exclusively to the movie.

And then a few weeks ago, I stumbled onto the story that inspired the film.

I picked up Ted Chiang’s collection of short stories, Stories of Your Life and Others on a whim. When I got to “Story of Your Life,” it quickly became obvious that this was the story on which Arrival was based. While there are some differences between the story and the movie, Arrival captures Chiang’s philosophical style well.

The fact that Chiang is the genius behind Arrival is enough to make me love him, but I was impressed by virtually all of the stories in the book. He tells tales that are unusual, well-written and brilliant. The first story in the book, the bizarre and beautiful “Tower of Babylon,” pulled me in. In this story, the Tower of Babel touches the rock-hard vault of heaven, requiring a four-month journey to reach the top. I’ve read many books based on ancient myths, but nothing quite like this!

At first I thought the second story, “Understand,” was going to be a retelling of “Flowers for Algnernon.” It begins with a man who is receiving experimental therapy that greatly increases his intelligence. But Chiang takes his story in a different direction from its inspiration, leading to an unexpected encounter.

“Division by Zero” tells the story of a brilliant career and a marriage unraveling on parallel paths. “Seventy-two Letters” is a steampunk story in which old Jewish tales about golems and outdated theories about reproduction are the basis of scientific reality. The weakest, and shortest, story, “The Evolution of Human Science,” is written as if it were introductory material in a popular scientific publication. It asks what role humans can play in scientific inquiry if super-intelligent meta-humans are engaged in research that is beyond human understanding. In “Hell Is the Absence of God” Chiang tackles theology as he engages the story of Job. And in “Liking What You See: A Documentary,” he asks: If you could do away with lookism by creating a way to prevent humans from distinguishing each other as more or less beautiful, should you embrace that new technology?

Part of what makes Chiang wonderful is how fresh most of his work feels. Part of what I love about him is how incredibly intelligent he is. He tackles math, science, philosophy, theology and more in a thoughtful, thought-provoking manner.

I cannot tell you whether to watch Arrival or read “Story of Your Life” first. Once you have experienced one, the twist will change the way you approach the other. What I can say is this: Watch Arrival. Read Stories of Your Life and Others. You won’t regret it.

 

 

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Before There Was “World Music”: The Nonesuch Explorer Series

Nonesuch Explorer Series

When I was a kid, there were certain albums that I checked out from the library over and over again. The one I probably borrowed the most was The Nonesuch Explorer: Music from Distant Corners of the World. A 1971 double-LP compilation of folk music recordings from the Nonesuch Explorer Series, the album featured music from Indonesia, Japan, India, Zimbabwe (then Rhodesia), the Americas, Eastern Europe, Greece, and Sweden. It introduced me to music ranging from gamelan music to Swedish fiddle tunes from Dalarna.

This album is long out of print, but years later I discovered Java: Javanese Court Gamelan. I purchased it and was thrilled to recognize one of the pieces from The Nonesuch Explorer. The album has since been reissued as Java: Court Gamelan.

In fact, most of the source recordings for the album I loved so much are still available through the Nonesuch Explorer Series. There are some noticeable holes. Only one CD from India is in print, and it contains none of the music from The Nonesuch Explorer. You also won’t find Greek or Swedish music in Nonesuch’s Explorer Series. But there are plenty of other recordings, including many from places not included on the 1971 compilation, including Tahiti, Iran, Tibet, Ghana, Burkina Faso, and Burundi.

These recordings are not what we normally refer to as “world music” today. They do not reflect contemporary music around the world. They are recordings made by ethnomusicologists in specific places and specific times. But if you have wide-ranging musical taste, these recordings are gold.

I swear there were informative liner notes with the double-album, but I can’t find them online. For instance, I seem to remember that the compilation album said that Guarani songs like “El Chupino” traditionally were interrupted with a compliment to a woman, but perhaps I’m remembering that incorrectly. From what I’ve been able to catch, it certainly seems that the singers are saying something about a beautiful woman.

If you decide to delve into the Explorer Series, where should you start? It really depends on the regions of the world that interest you the most. I recommend sampling the available music and deciding what you like best. Nonesuch’s website allows you to listen to 30-second samples of their music, and Warner Music Group (which owns Nonesuch), has uploaded several songs in their entirety on YouTube, though it’s a bit of a pain to find them. (I recommend searching by “Nonesuch [Name of Song].”)

But if you asked me to recommend just one album, I’d tell you to get Music of Bulgaria. None of its music was included on The Nonesuch Explorer compilation, though I could have sworn that’s where I first heard “Polegnala E Todora.” It’s a nice mix of Bulgarian music, and as far as I’m concerned, “Polegnala E Todora” is absolutely beautiful. You can also find a different recording of that song on the Nonesuch recording Le Mystère dex Voix Bulgares. It’s not part of the Explorer Series, but there’s a good reason NPR included it in its list of the 150 greatest albums by women.

 

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Don’t Judge This Book By Its Cover

 

, The Brides of Rollrock Island by Margo Lanagan

When I was a child, I loved all sorts of fantastical beings — dragons, fairies, unicorns, mermaids. I still have books leftover from that era: Peter Dickinson’s The Flight of Dragons, Brian Froud and Alan Lee’s Faeries. And from time to time, I find myself wanting to indulge the girl I once was. So when I was recently in the mood to read about selkies, I picked The Brides of Rollrock Island from a list somewhere on the Internet. I thought I was indulging a whim with a book that would probably be a bit trashy. Instead I was pleasantly surprised to find that this YA novel by Margo Lanagan is really quite good.

Misskaela Prout is at the heart of the story. Misskaela is large and unattractive by the standards of those around her; her grandmother says she “harks back,” revealing a bit of her family’s selkie heritage. As she grows older, Miskaella discovers that she has a power over seals. She can attract them, and she can even draw a human being out from a seal.

Hurt and angered by the way her family and fellow islanders treat her, when the first young man approaches to ask if she can give him a selkie wife, she sees an opportunity for revenge. She delivers what he wants — for a hefty price. These beautiful, docile women enchant the island’s men. Soon man after man pays Misskaela for a selkie wife or mistress, pushing the island’s women aside. Misskaela is happy — as happy as her bitter heart will let her be — growing wealthy off the backs of the foolish island men who are besotted with their seal-wives, and watching in triumph as the women of Rollrock Island are forced to leave rather than compete with the growing population of selkie women.

My child was as surprised as I was when I told her how much I was enjoying this complex, feminist story. “The cover looks like it’s trashy,” she said, and so it does. But Lanagan is an excellent writer who weaves an interesting tale. She manages to make you feel both sympathy for and anger with Misskaela. Even the selkie women — as beautiful and compliant as they are — are more than robotic Stepford wives. The greatest weakness to Lanagan’s story is its men; virtually all of them fall prey to the glamour of the selkies, unable to choose faithfulness to their wives or fiancees.

The Brides of Rollrock Island is not a must-read. It will not become a classic, sitting on people’s bookshelves (or in their electronic readers) 100 years from now. But if you can get past the cover, you’ll find it’s a thoughtful and entertaining read, well worth your time.

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You’re Never Too Old for Newbery Winners

The Girl Who Drank the Moon was a recent Newbery winner.

I think I’ve made it clear that I believe that the best children’s literature can be enjoyed just as much (if not more) by adults. That’s why I eagerly await the announcement of the Newbery award winner each January.

Since 1922, the Newbery Medal has been awarded to “the most distinguished contribution to American literature for children.” You probably know and love many winners, such as The Voyages of Doctor Doolittle, Caddie Woodlawn, Call It Courage, King of the Wind, Ginger Pye, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, and The Giver. Not all of the books stand the test of time. The first winner, The Story of Mankind, was so dry that I set it aside without finishing it. But many of the books are still enjoyable today. It’s worth your while to read some past winners. Don’t pick randomly; unless you plan to read all past winners, base your choices on reviews. And when the next winner is announced, request it from your local library… or buy it. The author can almost certainly use your support.

I’ve written about some of the winners in past blog posts: A Wrinkle in Time and When You Reach Me, The High King, and Hitty. Some of my other favorites include The Hero and the Crown (another story about a strong princess to add to my list), The Graveyard Book, and The Girl Who Drank the Moon.

All sorts of things can determine what books we read. We pick up books by favorite authors or celebrities. We act on the recommendations of friends and cultural critics. If we’re nerdy enough, we may even have a “blind date with a book.”

I’d like to recommend that you start allowing the Association for Library Service for Children pick some of your reading for you. Read Newbery Medal winners to yourself, or read them to children you know. Just make sure to add some of the winners to your reading list.

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You’re Never Too Old for Cartoons

Hilda

If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you already know that I watch animated shows, such as the works of Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli. Just as I believe good children’s literature isn’t just for children, I believe that adults can appreciate good animation. This year Netflix has released two excellent animated shows that are not to be missed if you have the opportunity to watch them.

Hilda

Hilda is a magical show based on a series of graphic novels. Hilda is a brave, compassionate girl who can discover possibilities where other people only see problems. She lives in a sort of Scandinavian country, where she encounters trolls, giants, elves, nisse, and other weird and wonderful beings. Hilda is equal to any creature she meets, but she finds people a bit more difficult. Her greatest challenge is leaving the wilderness to live in the city.

For me, Hilda is comfort television, like a cup of hot chocolate. The world is one I’d want to visit, and I fell in love with many of the characters. You can’t help but want to sit down for a board game with Hilda and her mom. And you’ll find yourself wishing you could meet the Wood Man, even though he’ll walk into your house uninvited, make himself comfortable, and insult you. Like The Hobbit (the book) or Spirited Away, Hilda invites adults to embrace childhood wonder again.

So far, only one season of 13 episodes is available, though Netflix will eventually add a second season.

Aggretsuko

While Hilda is a children’s show that adults will love, Aggretsuko really is animation for adults. This is a side of Sanrio that was totally new to me. Think Hello Kitty gets drunk at an office party. This is not one you watch with your three-year-old.

Retsuko is a 25-year-old red panda who hates her job. Her boss is literally a sexist pig who delights in making her life miserable. A responsible woman, Retsuko quietly takes everything that is piled on her, but she has a secret outlet: after work, she goes to a karaoke establishment and releases her tensions through death metal.

In ten 15-minute episodes, Aggretsuko takes viewers through the ups and downs of Retsuko’s life as she tries to either escape her job or make peace with her boss. Like Hilda, this is a show with marvelous characters, including the fabulously cool Washimi; sweet but awkward Haida; and cute, calculating  Tsunoda. Even if you’ve never had to deal with a boss like Retsuko’s, you’ll find yourself relating to some of the situations she faces. After all, we all have days when it would feel great to go into a room by ourselves and scream.

My child and I watched Aggretsuko in Japanese with English subtitles. It is also available in other languages, including English. Like Hilda, it will be renewed for a second season.

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Christmas Music You May Not Know

It doesn't get much radio airplay but Joan Baez's Noel is worth adding to your Christmas music.

I enjoy Christmas music, in moderation. I have no desire to hear it before Thanksgiving. And while I enjoy “All I Want for Christmas Is You” as much as the next person, many of the songs that are played over, and over, AND OVER leave me cold. If I hear “O Holy Night” one more time….

To tell the truth, I’ve always been a bit contrary, rejecting many popular things simply because of their ubiquity. So I like odd carols like “A Stable Lamp Is Lighted” (sorry, it’s not on any of the recordings on this list). And I love albums that don’t get a lot of radio airplay. None of the albums on this list are new, and music aficionados will know at least some of them. But if you’re looking for Christmas music that isn’t overplayed, try one of these recordings:

Noël (Joan Baez, 1966)

Joan Baez worked with Peter Schickele to create Noël, a beautiful classical album with a deeply religious orientation. The arrangements have a marvelous, centuries-old flavor. Joan’s voice is stunning. Many of the songs are well-known carols and hymns, including an arrangement of “O Holy Night” that I can tolerate. But there are also more obscure songs, such as “Mary’s Wandering.” While I’d hate to ask you to skip the other albums on this list, if you could buy only one album, this is the one to get.

Jingle Bell Jazz (1985)

Jingle Bell Jazz is a collection of Christmas songs recorded by such artists as Carmen McRae, Dave Brubeck, Wynton Marsalis, and Paquito d’Rivera. It includes both instrumental and vocal music, mostly (though not entirely) secular. Some songs are jazz interpretations of classic carols, like Herbie Hancock’s joyous version of “Deck the Halls” (my favorite track). Some songs are originals, such as “Blue Xmas (to Whom It May Concern)” by Miles Davis, with Bob Dorough on vocals. This cynical song never mentions Jesus, but with its criticism of holiday commercialism, it feels like the most Christian song on the album.

This album is a compilation of two earlier releases: Jingle Bell Jazz and God Rest Ye Merry Jazzmen. To complicate things, the original 1962 Jingle Bell Jazz was reissued twice with some changes. I haven’t heard the previous incarnations of this title, but I can tell you that you definitely can’t get Herbie Hancock’s “Deck the Halls” on the 1962 album. Missing that would be a crying shame.

A Winter’s Solstice (Windham Hill Artists, 1985)

If you know anything about Windham Hill, you know it was a popular New Age record label when that musical genre was at its height. So why am I recommending a New Age “Christmas” album from a defunct label?

First, the music on this album definitely isn’t what you’re hearing pumped through the speakers at your local big box store. From David Qualey’s arrangement of “Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring” to Shadowfax’s “Petite Aubade,” which doesn’t sound like typical New Age fare at all, this is a beautiful album, the perfect accompaniment for a quiet winter morning at home.

Second, because most of the songs reflect the album’s title (note that it is “A Winter’s Solstice,” not “A Windham Hill Christmas”), virtually all of them can be played out of season, and people won’t look at you askance.

Yes, New Age is a dated genre, but swallow your pride and seek this album out anyway.

On Yoolis Night (Anonymous 4, 1993)

A collection of medieval carols and motets, On Yoolis Night may be my oddest suggestion on this list. This is the music my husband asks me to turn off, so I don’t listen to it very often. If you’re familiar with Anonymous 4, you don’t need me to tell you that these women have beautiful voices. While it’s not for everyone, if you’re looking for something different in Christmas music, On Yoolis Night fits the bill. The ancient music is perfect for setting a contemplative, worshipful atmosphere.

Christmas (Bruce Cockburn, 1993)

My first blog post was about Bruce Cockburn, so of course I had to include his Christmas album. I remember hearing a story, perhaps at one of Bruce’s concerts, about how a man once told him that if he ever released a Christmas album, he would stop being a fan. I wonder if the man carried through on that threat after Christmas came out. For my part, I’m glad to have this album. Bruce does some wonderful takes on traditional tunes as well as introducing listeners to some less-familiar songs. He opens and closes the album with short renditions of familiar carols on a solo acoustic guitar. In between, he includes songs from different times and cultures, including “Early On One Christmas Morn,” “Riu Riu Chiu,” a version of “Down in Yon Forest” that is radically different from the one Joan Baez sings on Noël, “Shepherds” (an original song, not nearly as good as “Cry of a Tiny Babe” on Nothing But a Burning Light), “Jesus Ahatonnia” (“The Huron Carol”), “It Came Upon a Midnight Clear” in a minor key, and several others. This is a Christmas album done as only Bruce could do it. I hope the fan forgave him.

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Who Took That Picture? Dorothea Lange

Migrant Mother by Dorothea Lange
“Migrant Mother” — Dorothea Lange’s most famous picture

Even if you don’t know the name of the photographer, you almost certainly recognize the photo above.

If you’re familiar with the name “Dorothea Lange,” you probably think of her photos of the Great Depression. Prior to 1933, she worked in a portrait studio. But she made a name for herself when she began capturing the Depression on film.

While Lange is best known for her work during the 1930s, her career didn’t end after the Depression. The U.S. government hired her to take photos of the internment of Japanese Americans during World War II. Unfortunately, her pictures clearly show her opposition to the internment, so the U.S. Army suppressed them. Among these pictures are photos of Japanese American children saying the Pledge of Allegiance, a shot of a Japanese American soldier helping his mother prepare for internment, a photo of a ranch house with the note “This was the home of eight children who were born in this country,” and several pictures of horse stalls converted into living quarters for families.

Dorothea Lange photo of children saying the Pledge of Allegiance

Like all great artists, Lange was able to convey something of her subjects’ humanity through her work. As you view the world through her camera lens, you get the sense that she respected the human dignity of the people whose lives she captured on film. Lange was a visual storyteller; her photos are the embodiment of the saying “a picture is worth a thousand words.”

When I wrote about Artemisia Gentileschi, I challenged readers to think of five or more female artists. I hope Lange will be one of the women you mention on such a list. Spend some time with her photos. You’ll come away with a better understanding of history and a desire to truly see the worth of each person you encounter.

 

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Love Sci-Fi? The Snow Queen Is a Must-Read

The Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge

Forget “The Little Mermaid.” My favorite fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen is his lengthy story “The Snow Queen.” I’ve already alluded to one book that was loosely based on that story: Anne Ursu’s Breadcrumbs. Today I’m recommending another book inspired by the same fairy tale: The Snow Queen by Joan D. Vinge.

The Snow Queen is among the best science fiction books I’ve read. The cover blurb from Arthur C. Clarke says “it has the weight and texture of Dune.” While I don’t think The Snow Queen quite reaches the level of Dune, I understand what Clarke means. Vinge has created a complex universe filled with different creatures and cultures. This novel is worth reading and re-reading.

Most of the action takes place on Tiamat, a watery planet situated near The Black Gate, a black hole that allows members of the eight-planet Hegemony to travel from one planet to another. Unlike the Hegemony’s other worlds, Tiamat is situated so close to the Black Gate that it is inaccessible to interstellar travel during the planet’s summer, which lasts for 100 of every 250 years. According to the planet’s customs, its tech-loving Winter clan holds sway during the years it is open to off-worlders, while the more “primitive” Summer clan rules during its years of planetary solitude.

This cycle benefits wealthy and powerful off-worlders who want access to Tiamat’s valuable resource: the Water of Life, distilled from the blood of an indigenous life-form, the mer. Off-worlders barter for the Water of Life with technology. They withhold technological secrets from Tiamat’s citizens, going as far as destroying all technology on Tiamat when they abandon the planet at winter’s end.

The book begins toward the end of the reign of the latest Winter Queen, Arienrhod. Arienrhod has used the Water of Life to preserve her youth, ruling for the entirety of winter. Desiring to end Tiamat’s dependence on the rest of the Hegemony, Arienrhod has implanted Summer women with her clones. Once one of her clones has grown to maturity, Arienrhod plans to teach her to be a worthy successor who will further Tiamat’s growth during the summer season.

One of Arienrhod’s clones does survive — a perfect replica of her. Moon grows up in Summer with her cousin, Sparks. The pair are practically inseparable, but their different callings drive a wedge between them. Sparks leaves for Carbuncle, Tiamat’s largest city and the seat of government. Arienrhod, who has kept track of her clones through the years, brings Sparks to the palace and sends a message to Moon: her cousin needs her. Moon sets out for Carbuncle, but she is waylaid, complicating Arienrhod’s plans and frustrating her own desire to quickly reunite with her cousin and lover.

Beyond the overarching story of Moon (Gerda), Sparks (Kay), and the Snow Queen, there are few direct parallels between Vinge’s story and Andersen’s, though one character who shows up late in the story is clearly the Robber Girl from Andersen’s tale. Instead, Vinge introduces us to a rich array of characters from different worlds. Virtually all of them are morally complex with different goals and beliefs. Arienrhod is one of the villains of the story, but one can’t help sympathizing with her desire to liberate her planet from its dependence on off-worlders.

Only Moon confines to fairy-tale stereotypes, the perfect heroine who wins over everyone who meets her. That’s a relatively small flaw in a wonderful book. And even if you know Andersen’s story, Vinge complicates things just enough to leave readers feeling uneasy about the ending. Moon’s perfection aside, this is no fairy tale.

Vinge has written more books set in the Hegemony. I’ve only read The Summer Queen, The Snow Queen‘s sequel. I remember being disappointed with it when I read it, but when I recently looked at others’ reviews of it, I wondered if I was being unfair. If anything, The Summer Queen is even less of a fairy tale than The Snow Queen, and I think I was looking for something more cheerful and straightforward when I read it. So read The Snow Queen, and if you’re not ready to let go of the characters when you reach the last page, know that Vinge has got you covered.

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You Need to Watch Stop Making Sense

After director Jonathan Demme died last year, I heard someone praising Stop Making Sense. A 1984 concert film featuring the Talking Heads, it’s widely considered to be one of the best films of its kind. I was aware of the movie, but until last year, I didn’t realize what a big deal it was. Now that I’ve finally seen it, I understand why the critics love it.

Stop Making Sense isn’t just a film of a Talking Heads concert (actually, the footage was not all shot on the same night). It’s a visual treat. And as someone whose experience with Talking Heads had been limited to their music and one or two videos, it gave me a better feel for the band.

The concert begins when David Byrne walks on stage with a boombox and announces he wants to play a tape. Alone and supposedly accompanied by the tape (apparently the sound was really from a drum machine), Byrne performs “Psycho Killer.” My first thought when I saw him bobbing his head along to the music was, “Wow. He’s a bit geeky, but he can get away with it.” (I say this as a geeky person myself.) As I kept watching, I realized that Byrne is a true performer. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

Byrne is joined on stage by bandmate Tina Weymouth for the next song, and then by her husband Chris Frantz. With each song, more band members join the group, until the first part of the concert comes to a climax with “Burning Down the House.” At this point, there are nine musicians on stage — the four members of Talking Heads, two backup singers, and three more touring musicians.

Byrne brings boundless energy and wackiness to the performance. He runs laps around the stage. He dances with a floor lamp. And, of course, toward the end of the performance, he comes onstage in an enormous suit. As I watched him, I wondered if he had taken clowning lessons. He moved in a way that seemed natural, but I’ll bet he had to rehearse a lot to get there.

While Bryne was at the center of the action, the other band members also impressed me. Jerry Harrison switched off between guitar and keyboard. While I know there are plenty of musicians who know more than one instrument, I feel like I don’t see that sort of thing often in a performance. Weymouth had a chance to shine after Byrne stepped off stage for a costume change, leaving Weymouth, Frantz, and the other musicians to perform “Genius of Love” as the Tom Tom Club. Tom Tom Club is a band that Weymouth and Frantz had formed outside of Talking Heads; the couple were the only actual members of Tom Tom Club on stage. “Genius of Love” is very different in style from Talking Heads’ songs, but I enjoyed the energetic performance.

Although this is a concert film, there are few shots of the audience. Stop Making Sense is a performance for you, the viewer. When we finally get glimpses of the audience at the end, you realize that Talking Heads fans are as eccentric as Byrne. Come one, come all, and bring your unicorn — even if Pauline Kael disapproves. You and your weirdness are welcome.

I’m not going so far as to say that everyone will love Stop Making Sense. If you never listen to popular music or only listen to popular music of the past decade, you may not care for it. But if you have broad musical taste or an affinity for the ’80s, I urge you to check it out. It’s everything the critics say it is.