Blue Velvet

John Chard

No. I told you. I don't want to hurt you. I want to help you. I think I know some of what is happening to you. Blue Velvet is written and directed by David Lynch. It stars Dennis Hopper, Isabella Rossellini, Kyle MacLachlan, Laura Dern, Hope Lange, George Dickerson and Dean Stockwell. Music is by Angelo Badalamenti and cinematography by Frederick Elmes. The discovery of a severed human ear found in a field leads Jeffrey Beaumont (MacLachlan) into a vortex of troubled mysteries involving a beautiful nightclub singer and a group of crimninals led by the psychopathic Frank Booth (Hopper). Such is the diversity of David Lynch, you will find many anouncing this to be his last accessible piece of genius, others that it was merely the start of his shift into mainstream majesty. Personally, I just find it a fine movie, easy to follow, even if it's nightmarish at times and brilliantly off kilter at others. From the off we are in no doubt that Lynch is setting out to show what crawls beneath the happy facade of suburban small town Americana. We are pitched into a detective story with a difference, one that is fronted by the naivety of a young man aided from the sidelines by the young girl who is falling for him. Both of them stumble into a world of adult pschosexual murk, flanked by the outrageous malignant menace of Booth and his merry band of odd balls. One of the joys to be had here is observing the things and reactions that Booth's group do in the background, splendidly weird. Superbly perfomed by the cast, most of them daring and real for their director, Blue Velvet did earn Lynch a Best Director Oscar nomination. Which considering it was 1986 and the controversial themes at work are troublingly biting, makes the nomination something of a surprise. Frederick Elmes also photographed the equally controversial "River's Edge" this same year, and once again he considerably pumps Neo-Noir textures acrosss the pic. While Angelo Badalamenti's musical compositions are lush and pin sharp for scene accompaniments. Main music tracks are Bobby Vinton's title tune and Roy Orbison's "In Dreams," both certain to never let you forget this film whenever you hear them again. Lynch's film is plot conventionality, yet disturbing in the blending of beauty and violence, both visually and orally - and of course there's some sly humour to be found as well. To me it's not the masterpiece some claim it as, for there's more style than substance, more shock and awe as opposed to character depth, but it is a great, clever and unforgettable film. 8/10

CinemaSerf

When “Jeffrey” (Kyle MacLachlan) finds a severed ear as he walks through a field, he takes it to the police who advise him to keep schtum! Maybe if he had, he wouldn’t have become embroiled in the nefarious activities of the violent “Frank” (Dennis Hopper) nor his girlfriend “Dorothy” (Isabella Rossellini) with whom he soon becomes infatuated. Together with the cop’s daughter “Sandy” (Laura Dern) they pair try to get to the bottom of the mystery but this is a perilous affair, exposing them to a dark and dangerous societal underbelly, but for him it’s also quite an addictive one too! It’s the oxygen-mask wearing Hopper who steals this for me, mixing a toxic blend of angry, maniacal and erotic engagingly, but I’m afraid the rest of this rather fell a bit flat for me as the story ran out of steam and the sexual tensions became all too repetitively staged and the overacting from Rossellini failed to convince. It addresses issues of sadomasochistic tendencies entertainingly at first, too, but there’s only so many times you can peep through the louvre doors of a wardrobe before even that cinematic prurience becomes dull. Dern has never been my favourite actor, and she adds little here until perhaps at the end when the denouement brings things to an head. Like most Lynch films, I felt I was on the sidelines - I’m not a fan of surrealism or excess for the sake of it, and that’s what I found here. I know I’m in a minority but even with a fine soundtrack, this just didn’t do it for me, sorry.