From the opening scene, where an average suburban man gets his gardening hose twisted around a bush branch before he collapses from a stroke as the beautiful titular song looms over, David Lynch makes you aware that Blue Velvet is going to be something a little special. Taking place in Lumberton, as Jeffrey Beaumont returns home (Kyle MacLachlan), this is a dark and twisted neo-noir tale for the ages. The whole "suburbia is hell" theme has been played out hundreds of times throughout cinema, and for the most part it's been done in ways that are dreadfully heavy-handed and served to the audience on an easy-to-digest platter. It's a theme that I find potentially fascinating, but am often disappointed when they miss the mark completely.
Blue Velvet is the finest example of how to handle this properly, utilizing the suburban setting as an ominous backdrop to the dark journey that Jeffrey heads down. Lynch puts his focus primarily on the narrative, on the sharp thrills and complex characters that Jeffrey encounters in the underbelly of the mild-mannered town, instead of trying to make that theme the central focus. By using it as a background instead of the focal point, he is able to make the narrative even more chilling without ever seeming like he's trying to force that suburban nightmare motif down the audience's throat. He makes it a dark noir thriller that would have worked in any setting, but the placement of it here adds another layer to the nightmare; the fact that something this bizarre and grotesque is happening in the backyard of a safe, quiet American neighborhood. He also surprisingly manages to infuse it with a nice bit of his dark humor ("Yes, that's an ear all right.") that had me in stitches several times.
The narrative drives the film but these characters are what makes this world so intriguing for the audience and for Jeffrey. First Jeffrey meets Sandy Williams (Laura Dern), who is safe and sweet, but she's so appropriately boring. It's when we start to succumb to our dangerous desires that we get introduced to Dorothy Vallens, played with frightened hysteria by Isabella Rossellini. Rossellini turns in a star-making performance here, making Dorothy someone who we want to screw and save but we're never fully aware of how potentially dangerous she is. Dorothy is a character who draws you in immediately, evolving from one thing (the controlling, potentially violent older seducer) into something completely different (the broken and fragile mother) and Rossellini remains believable for this entire transition.
Then of course there's Dennis Hopper as Frank Booth, quite possibly the most terrifying screen villain in cinematic history. Booth is...something out of this world. He's the devil in the suburban hell and Hopper plays him the way that only he could. It's as if Lynch gave him free reign to just let loose all of the rage and terror that Hopper is capable of and he took full advantage of it, creating a monster who you can't stop watching even when you feel that he would kill you on a second. The film doesn't follow many conventional routes and Booth is another example of this, a violent maniac who is truly unpredictable. The main reason why he is so hauntingly terrifying is the fact that at any point you have no idea what he is going to do next. Booth is like the nightmare version of Jeffrey's darkest impulses and desires.
In Jeffrey Beaumont, Lynch has created a character who serves primarily as a surrogate for the audience and mankind as a whole, controlling him with his dangerous desires and impulses. Lynch explores America's fascination with the grim and macabre, expressed through Jeffrey's obsession with Dorothy and the case. He presents an absorbing take on the theme of voyeurism, as Jeffrey hides in closets and behind the wheel of his car, spending as much time spying on the characters as he does interacting with them. Sandy says to Jeff, "I don't know if you're a detective or a pervert", and it's a line that really speaks to America's fascination with those themes of sexuality, violence and twisted deeds; the danger that you can't look away from even it's hurtling towards you.
Taking it at face value, this is a safe and peaceful neighborhood, but when you open the closet (such as the one that Jeffrey himself hides in) you can find any number of skeletons. Lynch's direction is so completely on point for the entire film, creating a hypnotic atmosphere that pulls you in much in the same way that this dark world pulls in Jeffrey. Through the heavenly tinted cinematography and transfixing score, Lynch gives the film a dreamlike aesthetic that makes the nightmare even more chilling. When the film ends you feel as though you yourself are emerging from a dream state.
Blue Velvet is the finest example of how to handle this properly, utilizing the suburban setting as an ominous backdrop to the dark journey that Jeffrey heads down. Lynch puts his focus primarily on the narrative, on the sharp thrills and complex characters that Jeffrey encounters in the underbelly of the mild-mannered town, instead of trying to make that theme the central focus. By using it as a background instead of the focal point, he is able to make the narrative even more chilling without ever seeming like he's trying to force that suburban nightmare motif down the audience's throat. He makes it a dark noir thriller that would have worked in any setting, but the placement of it here adds another layer to the nightmare; the fact that something this bizarre and grotesque is happening in the backyard of a safe, quiet American neighborhood. He also surprisingly manages to infuse it with a nice bit of his dark humor ("Yes, that's an ear all right.") that had me in stitches several times.
The narrative drives the film but these characters are what makes this world so intriguing for the audience and for Jeffrey. First Jeffrey meets Sandy Williams (Laura Dern), who is safe and sweet, but she's so appropriately boring. It's when we start to succumb to our dangerous desires that we get introduced to Dorothy Vallens, played with frightened hysteria by Isabella Rossellini. Rossellini turns in a star-making performance here, making Dorothy someone who we want to screw and save but we're never fully aware of how potentially dangerous she is. Dorothy is a character who draws you in immediately, evolving from one thing (the controlling, potentially violent older seducer) into something completely different (the broken and fragile mother) and Rossellini remains believable for this entire transition.
Then of course there's Dennis Hopper as Frank Booth, quite possibly the most terrifying screen villain in cinematic history. Booth is...something out of this world. He's the devil in the suburban hell and Hopper plays him the way that only he could. It's as if Lynch gave him free reign to just let loose all of the rage and terror that Hopper is capable of and he took full advantage of it, creating a monster who you can't stop watching even when you feel that he would kill you on a second. The film doesn't follow many conventional routes and Booth is another example of this, a violent maniac who is truly unpredictable. The main reason why he is so hauntingly terrifying is the fact that at any point you have no idea what he is going to do next. Booth is like the nightmare version of Jeffrey's darkest impulses and desires.
In Jeffrey Beaumont, Lynch has created a character who serves primarily as a surrogate for the audience and mankind as a whole, controlling him with his dangerous desires and impulses. Lynch explores America's fascination with the grim and macabre, expressed through Jeffrey's obsession with Dorothy and the case. He presents an absorbing take on the theme of voyeurism, as Jeffrey hides in closets and behind the wheel of his car, spending as much time spying on the characters as he does interacting with them. Sandy says to Jeff, "I don't know if you're a detective or a pervert", and it's a line that really speaks to America's fascination with those themes of sexuality, violence and twisted deeds; the danger that you can't look away from even it's hurtling towards you.
Taking it at face value, this is a safe and peaceful neighborhood, but when you open the closet (such as the one that Jeffrey himself hides in) you can find any number of skeletons. Lynch's direction is so completely on point for the entire film, creating a hypnotic atmosphere that pulls you in much in the same way that this dark world pulls in Jeffrey. Through the heavenly tinted cinematography and transfixing score, Lynch gives the film a dreamlike aesthetic that makes the nightmare even more chilling. When the film ends you feel as though you yourself are emerging from a dream state.