Late-Capitalist Critique and True Stories (1986)

Much like God, capitalism's will works in strange ways. True Stories brilliantly attempts to explain this alien work late-capitalist culture by presenting a charming set of vignettes about a small town in Texas. For context, the term "late-capitalism" has been used to reference any number of absurdities, contradictions and inequalities that modern business strategies have brought upon the world. The contradictions and absurdities in this film, I think, sums up this idea really well: Byrne's fictional Virgil, Texas might represent late-capitalist excess par excellence, its sprawling (leap-frogging) houses, its expansive malls, its endless highways which all feel like a meandering nothingness, while contextualizing life. If anything Byrne manages to alienate us from a life style we take for granted with lines like:

"Some people say 'Freeways are the Cathedrals of our time'. Not me."

"Look at this, who can say it isn't beautiful?"

Ideas like this point out the strange evolving capitalist landscape; the general tone of the film feels alien (much like Byrne's music) which might be exactly what we need to re-see capital's sprawling culture for what it is. The first line clearly jests at the absurdity of the our religious adherence to transporting ourselves from place to place; the second -- a line in reference to the expansive "beautiful" concrete houses of American suburbia -- clearly jests at the ingrained notion that the house with a law has become the de facto beautiful life. These re-conceptualizations lead us towards a questioning of the granted culture. This point might be reinforced with the provocative yet seemingly innocuous line from our narrator delivered at the end of the film:

"I really enjoy forgetting. When I first come to a place, I notice all the little details. I notice the way the sky looks. The color of white paper. The way people walk. Doorknobs. Everything. Then I get used to the place and I don't notice those things anymore. So only by forgetting can I see the place again as it really is."

If anything, this line reveals the film's modus operandi: it endeavors to help us forget -- by alienating and creating the known world anew -- so we can re-see the prevalent nearly forgotten culture. But we need to be reminded to remember; I think this is what True Stories ultimately does: remind. We might even see the trajectory of Byrne's narrator as a character who sets out to re-remembering what American capitalism "really is", as he comes in from out of town, seems partially enamored and partially confused about the proceeding, before leaving it to it's leap-frogging growth. He doesn't seem able to fully learn however: it's still confused until the bitter end; there seems to be no full analysis of the working of capitalism, save for several, nearly forgotten critiques. While the narrator certainly remembers/learns several things, there doesn't seem to be anything he can do about it. Much like drivers on a freeway, the workings of capitalist expansionism sure do keep an eternal movement. It's not the narrator seems to end his exploration of American suburbia as a fatalist, but rather that he seems reminded that there is a bittersweet heart at the center of all these paradoxes. Even more traumatic, we might see the end of the film -- particularly with respect to the words sung by Byrne over the credits -- as an acceptance of this culture, and the futility of fully encountering it.

All this being said, this film is a satire. As such, True Stories does have some clear and obvious critiques of American cultures and attitudes, and the narrator -- with the audience -- leave with several blatant critiques in mind, which can only be useful in the face of this traumatic cultural. The songs (that turn this movie into a genius integration of music video and cinematic narrative) point at a critique of shopping, a critique of government and economic control, a critique of advertising. They visual flair that each of these productions bring to the film cannot be understated, and the general satirical nature of the lyrics when combined with these visuals only add to the cynical and odd tone the film takes on. If anything buying things, making money and selling oneself are shown to be the central aspects of modern life, with the members of he Talking Heads being packaged up like chocolates, shopping being a deep-rooted feeling of identity and togetherness, and everyone being endlessly concerned with the success of the microchips. These satirical elements do not end with the songs, but permeate the whole film. The myriad of sequences and ideas which aim to poke fun at the established order under capitalism. Be it one of lines -- "What time is it? No time to look back." -- or whole characters -- the lazy woman, while certainly a blunt bit of commentary, remains one of the most exceptional critiques in the film, commenting on humanity's recent tendency towards cyborgification.

In the end, the film works as an odd sort of cult experience, a poignant attack on late-capitalist culture. It alienates it's audience enough -- form the wild wild world that we live in -- while never really becoming unwatchable or painful. It has its charms, its lightness, it's comedy and it's heart, even if that heart is looking more and more shrink-wrapped in cellophane. I wish David Byrne made more films, so I could feel more of his bittersweet crooning on the silver screen, and so he can help me re-see the world as it might really be while also remembering to drive away and forget.