I'm not entirely sure whether I heard Sultans of Swing before Making Movies. Maybe I saw Dire Straits on The Old Grey Whistle Test. I can’t even remember if I bought the album because of the single Romeo and Juliet. It’s all a bit fuzzy now — after all, it was over 40 years ago (yikes!). Maybe it was the minimalist album cover that caught my eye, though it looked far less impressive on cassette.
But all of that is secondary to the music.
As soon as I pressed play and Tunnel of Love began, none of that mattered. The dramatic opening, featuring Rodgers and Hammerstein’s The Carousel Waltz, immediately gives way to a tour de force of soaring guitars and the unmistakable voice of Mark Knopfler. There’s such confidence in the band’s sound and in Knopfler’s delivery when he sings:
"And I'm just high on the world / Come on and take a low ride with me girl."
Listening closely, Tunnel of Love sounds semi-autobiographical — as if Knopfler is recounting his own journey into music and the highs and lows that come with it. I haven’t read many interviews about this song or album, so any anecdotes or deeper insights are welcome.
Of course, Romeo and Juliet probably has one of the most iconic intros to any song. But beyond the instantly recognisable riff, it’s the way Knopfler injects just the right amount of romance and schmaltz to charm the listener — without ever sounding like he's wandered into Mills & Boon territory. The guitars begin to roar and his voice swells with emotion as he launches into the chorus. It’s raw and genuine.
The themes of love and longing continue through Skateaway and Expresso Love. But it’s not all wistful gazes and heartbreak. These tracks pulse with the rhythm of desire — that carefree, headrush feeling of falling in love. Knopfler captures that with lines like:
"I surrender to the fever and I surrender to the heat of the night."
Oddly enough, there are moments on this album where Dire Straits channel a little Bruce Springsteen, (or maybe that should be the other way round). It’s not just that Tunnel of Love shares its title with The Boss’s 1987 album — it’s the sentiment. Hand in Hand expresses the same kind of paranoia, melancholy, and bittersweet reflection that runs through Springsteen’s work. But that’s a comparison for another time.
After all the joy, confusion, and pain of love explored in the earlier tracks, Solid Rock slams you back down to earth. It’s a straight-up rocker, a track that could close any concert with a bang — or kick off an encore that leaves the crowd buzzing.
Then, something unexpected happens.
Mark Knopfler takes us to the cabaret with Les Boys. It’s a strange closer, conjuring up images of leather caps, too much makeup, and ageing businessmen watching performers with bemused smiles. But Knopfler’s storytelling is so vivid, so self-assured, that he manages to close the album with this oddball number — and pulls it off without a hint of irony or cynicism.
And here’s something else worth mentioning: the length. Making Movies clocks in at just under 38 minutes. That’s it. Seven songs. In a world where albums were beginning to balloon — especially with the rise of CDs and their 70+ minute runtimes — this felt almost spartan.
But it’s perfect.
No fillers. No flab. Just a tight, cohesive piece of work where every note, lyric, and transition feels deliberate. Sure, some listeners might’ve balked at the short tracklist — “Only seven songs?” — but this was no EP. It was a statement. And ironically, some of the songs recorded during the Making Movies sessions (Twisting by the Pool, for instance) were saved for later and released on an EP of their own.
In hindsight, perhaps it was the bloated 15–20 track albums of the CD era that diluted the concept of the album and nudged listeners away from physical formats — until the iPod, and later streaming, changed how we listen forever.
But Making Movies? It’s a snapshot of a band at their creative peak. Short, sharp, and unforgettable.
Check out Making Movies - Dire Straits (1980)