Blue Velvet, 1986. Written and Directed by David Lynch. Starring Kyle MacLachlan, Isabella Rossellini, Dennis Hopper, Laura Dern, Dean Stockwell (freaking unbelievable), Brad Dourif, Hope Lange, George Dickerson, and the original Eraserhead, Jack Nance.
Now showing in a new 35mm print at the Oak Street Cinema.
Valentine’s Day is Wednesday next, and it’s customary to celebrate on the exact day, surprising your gal or guy with something sweet on that oh, so sugary day. A bouquet of flowers showing up at work, a package of Russell Stover candies with the edges turned gray from age, a card you picked up at the SuperAmerica, maybe you make dinner or pick it up at Applebee’s. Then again, it might be beneficial to really tear it up on Saturday, to enjoy your festival of romance on the weekend. To celebrate, and celebrate late into the night. Have yourself a nice dinner at some joint and then, at 9:15 walk hand in hand past the inebriated college students wandering from Sally’s or Stub and Herbs and check out the best movie in town this weekend: Blue Velvet.
Consider: what else are you going to see? You artsies could end up checking out Jude Law going down on Juliette Binoche in the flawed Breaking and Entering and afterwards enjoy a glass of fine wine in Uptown, and ruminate over what you just saw. Flip through the paper, check out the online listings, and there ain’t nothing but movies you should have seen two weeks ago, horror, and some silly romantic comedies that’ll only make you feel as if love is something that comes in a Reddy Whip can.
Blue Velvet’s the exception. And, oh, is it the fucking exception. Something tells me most people haven’t seen it on the big screen, that giant blue velvet curtain swaying in the opening credits, almost a sexual thing in itself. The colors, the performances, Rossellini’s Dorothy Vallens stark naked and terrifying, a scene that not only will trouble you at night, but troubled the townsfolk where they filmed this masterpiece, and ended Lynch’s ability to film on the streets. Almost wrecked the picture, it did.
You’re going to be disturbed by Blue Velvet, you and your date. You’re going to go home wondering why your mate took you to this run down theater, what the living hell they were thinking, Dennis Hopper’s Frank sucking down that nitrous, that ear covered with ants, that God-damned white-faced Ben (Dean Stockwell), crooning–
A candy-colored clown they call the Sandman
tiptoes to my room every night
just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper
go to sleep
everything is all right
Everything is far from all right, especially when Dennis Hopper’s Frank interrupts the singing to slug the hero and shout “I’ll fuck anything that moves!”
I’ll spare you the rest of the plot. If you don’t know it, you should, and if you don’t, you’ll be all the more freaked. Which is just what Dr. Phil ordered.
So why not put some spice into the relationship? To go home, staring at your partner out of the corner of your eye. She seemed a bit turned on by that rough play between Kyle and Isabella… Did he think Dennis Hopper was cool? The guy’s a rapist, for Christ’s sake… What the hell was my boyfriend/girlfriend thinking? Those little tests endear us to one another, my friends. A restless night’s distrust is good for the soul, and sharpens the blade of love.
Above all, Blue Velvet is a stunner, and a must-see on the big screen, where Frank and Jeffrey and Sandy and Dorothy all loom larger than life, and stomp merrily into your nightmares. Nightmares are good–they make you curl up in the late hours with your loved one. They make you appreciate the waking hours, appreciate the familiar warm touch of your spouse’s back. What other movie will help you to appreciate that special someone like Blue Velvet?
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