Heaven Stood Still: The Incarnations of Willy Deville -
"It's as real as the feelings I feel"

REVIEW by Drew Rowsome - Photos courtesy of Larry Locke Films 
17 Jul 2023 -

I jumped at the chance to preview and review the documentary Heaven Stood Still: The Incarnations of Willy Deville. While Deville may never have become the household name rock star he deserved to be in North America, I had always considered him an incredible singer. When I was finally able to get my hands on an imported copy of Le Chat Bleu, I played it obsessively. I remember the excitement when Liza Minelli announced the Academy Award nominated songs for 1987 and Deville's collaboration with Mark Knopfler was among them. He didn't win, but "Storybook Love" is earworming in my head while I had to google to find the song that did win. A song which has not supplanted Deville's in my brain. Sadly, I didn't see Deville live until near the end of his career and life, but it is a performance seared in my brain. Fresh out of rehab, it was a shambles of a show thanks to a guzzled bottle of tequila, but Deville achieved moments of vocal magic, pulling phrases out of thin air that rang and were breathtaking. If nothing else, I was looking forward to Heaven Stood Still revealing footage of Deville in his prime, and filling in some blanks about an artist I admired artistically but knew little about beyond the debonair image and the music.

While Heaven Stood Still functions perfectly well as a bio pic, it also manages to deep dive into the enigma of Willy Deville. Turns out I'm not the only one who only knew the image, the legends and the music. In a post Bowie and Madonna world, we should be finely attuned to artists being chameleons, revealing only glimpses of themselves while donning characters to sell their vision and product. Even Deville's contemporary, and the artist he was frequently compared and contrasted with, Bruce Springsteen, was a series of manufactured images masquerading as authenticity. But, according to Heaven Stood Still, Deville was in a class of his own. Born in a small town in Connecticut, Deville says that "the day West Side Story came to town, my life changed." Later in the film he refers to himself and his then wife as "Bernardo and Rita Moreno." Significant that he names himself as a fictional character while Susan "Toots" Deville is compared to the actor.

 
The suave, sharply dressed, street smart, Latin lover was an image that Deville never deviated far from, even as he navigated through punk, new wave, roots rock and world music. Today it would never fly, it would be cultural appropriation (which could also be applied retroactively, though forgiven for its honest appreciation, to much of his latter musical output), but at the time it was never questioned. There are minor dissenters with Heaven Stood Still's talking heads noting that Deville's image and music was "retro" and "putting on a show," but also reverently praising his voice, musical chops and being "outrageously romantic in a non-romantic time." Chris Franz explains how his band Talking Heads were creating an image by being anti-image and how that contrasted with Deville's seemingly seamless creation. He and his band Mink Deville were anomalies during their time at CBGB. And Deville would remain a man somewhat out of time.

The film structure itself reflects the blurring of personas as director Larry Locke restlessly cuts between stage performances, home movies, music videos that amplify the mythology, Deville himself being interviewed in and out of character but with little difference apparent, and the talking heads trying to puzzle it out. After the film chronicles the artistic and personal tribulations and tragedies of Deville's life, it catches him off guard before one of his final performances where he says, "The character of Willy Deville . . . he's hard to live with." This is followed by a breathtaking sequence where Deville lights a cigarette and sings "Heaven Stood Still." He inhales and exhales as the character Deville on stage, while mining the lyrics and notes for intensely personal and intimate connections. The quicksilver changes between reality and image blur and waft away with the smoke. They are one and the same. Or at least permanently entwined.

The live footage in Heaven Stood Still is remarkable and mesmerizing. From the nights at CBGB to the European theatre extravaganzas to the stark trio of the latter tours, we are left in awe of Deville's ability and, as always with music documentaries, wanting more. And turning to the CD shelf to pull out and play favourites that are stirred into aural desire. There is also a partial biographical sketch, with particular emphasis on Deville's marriages and a glancing recounting of his addiction problems. And nuggets of information that illuminate and startle. Deville was inspired to move to New York City initially because of a Village Voice article about Patti Smith, an artistic connection I would never have thought of but which now seems blatantly obvious. Deville's obsession with Edith Piaf explains why Le Chat Bleu endures. There is a haunting recollection of him serenading Toots to calm her in a Norwegian prison. And that Keith Richards once warned Deville about the dangers of his drug intake and associates, says more than any PSA ever could. Throughout Heaven Stood Still we see the incandescent beauty of Deville, whether himself or his image, and are reminded of the glory of his voice and the music he made.