"… everyone who worked on the show knew how nervous [William Sanderson] got about delivering long monologues - including Milch, who took this as an opportunity to torture the poor guy or to force him to confront his fears and elevate his game, and wrote Farnum one speech after another for him to perform. And it worked. [Jody] Worth says, "Billy was miserable, his wife would work with him on those speeches, and he would go from disastrous to great in one jump.""
“You have been tested, Al Swearengen. And your deepest purposes proved. There’s gold on the woman’s claim. You might as well have shouted it from the rooftops. “That’s why I’m jumping through hoops to get it back. Thorough as I fleeced the fool she married, I will fleece his widow, too, using loyal associates like Eustace Bailey Farnum as my go-betweens and dupes. To explain why I want her bought out I will make a pretext of my fear of the Pinkertons. I will throw Farnum a token thief. Why should I reward E.B. with some small fractional participation in the claim? Or let him even lay by a little security and source of continuing income for his declining years? What’s he ever done for me except let me terrify him every goddamned day of his life till the idea of bowel regularity is a forlorn fucking hope. Not to mention ordering a man killed in one of E.B.’s rooms. So every fucking free moment of his life E.B. has to spend scrubbing the bloodstains off the goddamned floor to keep from … having to lower his rates.” God damn that motherfucker!”
"One of the things that was great for David Byrne when we did Stop Making Sense was that David really got to design the lighting for the show—and by extension for the movie. He hadn’t got to do everything he wanted to do lighting wise with the stage show because of the limitations of technology at that point. But David got a chance to work with Jordan Cronenweth who shot Blade Runner and was a great master of American cinematography, and he could do all the little tweakings and brushstrokes that he had dreamed of doing with the stage show. […] It’s great working with [Cronenweth] because he’s an absolute tight-ass perfectionist. You can’t get Jordan to back away from anything he’s doing until he’s got it perfect, and that can be exasperating because you’ve got one eye on the clock and you’re desperate to get moving. But then when you see the dailies and you see the extra level Jordan was taking it to when he was driving you nuts, you go, ‘Thank God he did it.’ He’s a painstaking artist.”
"I’d just as soon it didn’t occur to people that they’re watching a concert, but rather a band performing without the distancing factor of it being an event that happened once. That’s why there’s no audience in the film until the very end. I thought it was important if the film was to be as effective for filmgoers as it was for me watching the concert. I wanted to capture the energy and the flow and that unrelenting progression of music."
"We were minutely prepared. David had storyboarded the concert in a series of close shots. Not for the film, but for a tour. From this storyboard, I started to develop a model of the film, which by the way never stopped being modified. I worked closely with my visual advisor Sandy McLeod, who made sure I was in constant contact with the Talking Heads while they were on tour. I traveled with them myself for one week in Texas, then, before our concert, I followed all their performances on the West Coast. So on D-Day, I had a precise idea about the best camera placements. Having said that, 50 percent of the shots were conceived on the spot. […] This was the first multiple-camera situation I’d ever been in. The first night was pretty disastrous. Suddenly it was all happening, and all the preparation and planning was put up against the reality of the show. Cameras ran out of film, the band was real nervous and uptight having cameras stuck in their faces. We kept getting each other in the background of shots too much. It was a mess, but a superb camera rehearsal. The next three nights were spectacular." — Jonathan Demme on Stop Making Sense