WILD AT HEART
A film review by Greg Goebel
Copyright 1990 Greg Goebel
I walked into David Lynch's BLUE VELVET without much in the way of forewarning or familiarity with Lynch's earlier films, and had my head totally twisted around for the better part of a week as a result. So when I went to see his latest, WILD AT HEART, I was better prepared. This time I was only mildly confused and distressed.
WILD AT HEART concerns the adventures of two dedicated lovers, Lula and Sailor, who are on the run from Lula's mom, a woman who is roughly similar to the Wicked Witch of the West and is portrayed very specifically as such. Mom is a truly evil character, made no less so by the mind-shattering guilt she feels over her crimes, but nothing can stand in the way of Lula's and Sailor's love.
If this sounds vaguely like THE PRINCESS BRIDE -- you know, "true love will always find a way" -- well, it is, if you can imagine THE PRINCESS BRIDE with very graphic (and moderately imaginative) sex, EXTREMELY graphic violence, a vision of human beings that does not exclude their bodily functions, villains so evil that they literally invoke a sense of fear and revulsion, a large supporting cast of psychoes, freaks, and weirdos -- some dangerous, some not -- and a general air of sleaze, corruption, and kitsch.
If this sounds strange, it is, but Lynch fans understand; if you don't understand, watch out. Like BLUE VELVET, being asked the question: Is this a good movie? -- causes confusion. Some people will like it, some people will hate it, but everyone will admit that it is DIFFERENT.
Next question: Did I like it? Well, there were certainly things to like: Lynch has a way with visual imagery, and his use of flame as a recurring image in this film is riveting. Laura Dern as Lula is a stunning heartbreaker, and Nicholas Cage as Sailor is a sympathetic character ... and the VILLAINS! MY GOD! Darth Vader is a silly fantasy -- these people are sick, cruel as snakes, and vividly REAL -- not merely remorseless but actually amused by inflicting pain and wreaking destruction. (In this context, William Dafoe gets to play a character about as far removed from JC as possible -- Dafoe has been somewhat typecast as a saintly type, I wonder if Lynch found it amusing to play him against that -- and Isobella Rosellini gets a small part in which she shows that even the sleaziest style cannot hide what a knockout she is.)
Lynch also has a way of generating passions, too, a sort of way of getting underneath the characters' and the audience's skin that I'm not sure if I care for or not -- it's vivid but seems a little like voyeurism at times. I remember a colleague saying how unreal it was when at the end of a TV show all the characters would be sitting around chatting after being through enormous turmoil as if nothing had happened -- when in reality they'd be carrying the weight of the events for years or the rest of their lives. In Lynch's universe that's what happens, and we see into the character's deepest nightmares -- as in Lula's heartbreaking memory of a childhood assault.
There were things to outright dislike, though. The film tended to drag a little, and it could've stood to have had a few scenes cut that detracted from its dramatic build -- particularly the little side-stories about one psycho or another. And sometimes it goes too campy, also undermining its build -- and Lynch's preoccupation with weirdness sometimes goes beyond his unusual sense of aesthetics into something like affectation, too self-consciously and "traditionally" avante-garde, as if he is throwing these things out just to confound the sort of film analysts who like to reduce stories to pointless meanderings about meanings and symbology. Granted they're more than fair game, but it also seems somewhat dishonest, like playing games with the viewer.
So, as far as recommendations go, you pays your money and you takes your chances. There's only one recommendation I would make: Don't take the kids or someone who is squeamish.
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