In the weeks since A24’s recent 40th-anniversary re-release of Stop Making Sense, videos of Talking Heads frontman, David Byrne, experimenting with choreography for the performance have gone viral on TikTok. Those moves made their way from Byrne’s living room to Talking Heads’ wildly successful 1983 tour, which director Jonathan Demme famously documented in the concert film to rule all concert films: Stop Making Sense.

In the year preceding the 1983 release of their Speaking In Tongues album and its subsequent tour, Talking Heads decided to embark on a year-long creative break. During this time, Byrne collaborated with dancer and choreographer Twyla Tharp, an icon in the world of popular dance. Byrne composed an album, The Catherine Wheel, that accompanied Tharp’s Broadway dance project of the same name. The result? Byrne was inspired to incorporate dance and choreography into the band’s stage show for their 1983 tour. The distinctive choreography and movement style are a major contributing factor to what makes Stop Making Sense unequivocally Talking Heads.

The band had already experimented with dance in 1981 when they collaborated with Toni Basil, who worked with Byrne’s home video choreography to stylize and direct the music video for “Once In a Lifetime.” Basil, a dancer on the popular 1960s music variety show, Shindig!, and assistant choreographer for the legendary T.A.M.I. Show, is an icon in the world of influential dancers and choreographers of 20th-century popular dance. Basil danced and choreographed routines — oftentimes set to popular music — for television, Broadway, film, music videos, and more. Byrne’s unique movement style in the “Once in a Lifetime” video physically embodies the music, shaped and supported by Basil’s expertise. By the time Byrne was choreographing the tour that would be documented in Stop Making Sense, he had a signature movement style influenced by two choreographic innovators, which is what audiences see in the film.

Byrne declares, “No time for dancing,” in “Life Before Wartime,” the kinetic centerpiece of Stop Making Sense. The performance of the song very clearly suggests otherwise. Swiveling his knees and jerkingly rolling his shoulders, the music flows through Byrne’s body. Breaking out into a stationary jog, Byrne and his band members escalate their unified movement into a steady, pounding run. Leaning their torsos forward while running, creating the illusion of nearly falling over, and extending their arms in a swimming motion, the band members’ movement emulates trenches, an American vernacular dance step popular in tap dance. Byrne takes off into a series of sprints around the stage, but all of the band members take part in a serious cardio workout, running for the duration of the song to the tune of post-apocalyptic lyrics set to frantic instrumentation. 

The whole band — Byrne, Chris Frantz, Tina Weymouth, and Jerry Harrison — in addition to percussionist Steve Scales, keyboardist Bernie Worrell, guitarist Alex Weir, and backup singers Ednah Holt and Lynn Mabry were invested equally in the music and the dancing. It’s difficult to take your eyes off Byrne, but Holt and Mabry are the backbone, dancing for the duration of the show. The aerobic choreography that takes up space and catches the eye, while being uniquely Talking Heads, undeniably draws clear inspiration from the energized, stylized choreography of Twyla Tharp and Toni Basil.

Later in the show, although the band ditches the aerobic routine in favor of an effortless, stationary groove for “This Must Be the Place,” Byrne initiates a duet with a lamp, pushing and catching the lamp as it wobbles, searching for its center of gravity. Byrne’s lamp duet is, like “Life During Wartime,” highly stylized, yet easy and playful, illuminating the subdued role dance can play in a live performance.

The most popular of all the Stop Making Sense dances is, of course, the big suit routine, which appears during “Girlfriend Is Better.” Bobbing his head forward and back while emerging on stage in a comically oversized gray suit, Byrne captures the groove in the movements exaggerated by the big suit. Throwing his shoulders forward, flapping his arms, and shaking in a signature walk, Byrne surrenders to the music, whose lyrics plead, “stop making sense.” This sentiment is reflected in his nonsensical, unconventional dance moves. He turns and runs to Holt and Mabry, all three of them flailing their arms in complete surrender to the music. As synthesizers wail, Byrne allows the music to direct his entire body, shaking his head and wiggling his shoulders and hips.

The suit bleeds into the final two songs of the film, a cover of “Take Me To The River” and an original song, “Crosseyed and Painless.” In “Take Me To The River,” Byrne throws open his suit, loses the jacket, and shakes his hips in oversized pants. Holt and Mabry throw their hair forward and back in sync with the music during “Crosseyed and Painless,” while Byrne and his bandmates contract into their instruments in rhythm with the downbeat. So long as the music is going, not a single member of the band is able to refrain from dancing throughout the performance, thus driving home the symbiotic relationship of music and dance in Stop Making Sense. 

Unsurprisingly, the IMAX stage of the 40th anniversary Stop Making Sense re-release has spurred videos of movie goers dancing up and down the aisles of the theater. Stop Making Sense is a widely successful concert film and the most beloved of its kind because of the emotional and kinesthetic effects that the performance - the result of the music, the costuming, and the choreography all working together cohesively - has on audience members. It makes you want to sing along, get up out of your seat, and dance. That’s the choreographic brilliance of Stop Making Sense – it’s natural and isn’t trying to impress. It makes us want to dance like David Byrne, moving to the music in a way that’s unique to ourselves.