The sight of David Byrne and his massive square suit back on the big screen will come as great relief for Talking Heads fans and bad news for Liz Truss.

Filmed across four Talking Heads gigs in 1983, Stop Making Sense is a dynamic document of the post-punk poster children. Jonathan Demme’s direction doesn’t just transport you to the show, it puts you on stage at a Talking Heads concert. He eschews interviews, crowd shots and talking heads (the other kind), instead capturing pure performance from inside the band’s polyrhythmically beating heart.

At the same time the film is almost a deconstruction of a rock concert, opening with a bare stage and building the set around the band as a supergroup gradually materialises. They include the Brothers Johnson’s Alex Weir and P-Funk’s Bernie Worrell, giving the nonet serious musical chops (Tina Weymouth’s bass being the standout). Their performance has more in common with ’70s funk than ’80s punk, with matching costumes and choreography keeping all eyes on the Heads.

And though the setlist serves up a spicy musical mixture (including gospel, country and reggae), the movie’s images stay with you longer than the songs. The scintillating cinematography, art direction and dancing shadows create their own world of percussive perspective, upon which frontman Byrne (the spit of Cillian Murphy) revels in spasmodic dance moves and physical comedy like J. Robert Oppen-mimer.

An icon of pop art, Stop Making Sense pulsates with rhythm and bounces with joy. 40 years on, it remains tiny head and huge shoulders above the competition.