(Blue Velvet, David Lynch, 1986)Writing my "analysis" (I use the term loosely) of Blue Velvet is a little bittersweet considering that I watched this film with my former other half. At the time I never thought that this would become a solo venture, but alas, here we are. Or, more accurately, here I am. But I don't want to bog down this post with sentimentality because Blue Velvet is really a remarkable film. A remarkably bizarre film.
There are very few films that I can honestly say have ever made me feel truly uncomfortable. Aspects of Pan's Labyrinth really made me cringe, and The Shining always makes my skin crawl despite my everlasting love for it, but Blue Velvet may be the first movie I've ever seen that made me downright uncomfortable in my own skin. Most of the time I felt like I was watching something very private, that shouldn't have been released for audiences to view. When Kyle MacLachlan's Jeffrey Beaumont first witnesses the interaction between Frank Booth (played by Hopper) and Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini) from the inside of Dorothy's closet, I honestly felt like I was hiding in there with him, and at any second Booth was going rip open the door and catch both of us in our act of voyeurism. Like watching the proverbial train wreck, I found myself riveted to what was on screen, all while wishing that I could bring myself to look away. I knew that I should keep watching (because in a perverse, wicked way I knew I was in for a real cinematic treat), but nothing about the situation felt right. It felt uncomfortable.
And then, on top of all the visual weirdness that was happening on the screen, there was also constant presence of "Blue Velvet," the song that the film takes its title from. The song, which was recorded by Bobby Vinton in 1963, would be just another charming 60's ballad if it weren't for the images that accompany it in this film. If I'd have heard "Blue Velvet" under other circumstances I would have thought, "gee, what a nice song about a man in love with a woman who happens to wear a blue velvet dress." Of course, after watching Blue Velvet I will now think to myself "oh god, this is that song from Blue Velvet that Booth likes to hear Dorothy sing before he does terrifying things to her." No matter how hard I try, I will forever associate the song with Dennis Hopper getting high on amyl nitrate and violating Isabella Rossellini. I can't help it. And, try as I might, I won't be able to think of the song as "charming" alongside those other thoughts.
I've tried and retried to find a way to wrap this post up, and for some reason I'm finding it bizarrely challenging. So here's the gist. Blue Velvet is good. Like... really good. It's not one that I'm likely to ever forget, and I look forward to the day when I get the chance to watch it again. Yes, it's rather disturbing and uncomfortable to watch, but I guess that's not really surprising. I mean, when a film starts with a young man finding a human ear you should be prepared for it all to go downhill from there.
There are very few films that I can honestly say have ever made me feel truly uncomfortable. Aspects of Pan's Labyrinth really made me cringe, and The Shining always makes my skin crawl despite my everlasting love for it, but Blue Velvet may be the first movie I've ever seen that made me downright uncomfortable in my own skin. Most of the time I felt like I was watching something very private, that shouldn't have been released for audiences to view. When Kyle MacLachlan's Jeffrey Beaumont first witnesses the interaction between Frank Booth (played by Hopper) and Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini) from the inside of Dorothy's closet, I honestly felt like I was hiding in there with him, and at any second Booth was going rip open the door and catch both of us in our act of voyeurism. Like watching the proverbial train wreck, I found myself riveted to what was on screen, all while wishing that I could bring myself to look away. I knew that I should keep watching (because in a perverse, wicked way I knew I was in for a real cinematic treat), but nothing about the situation felt right. It felt uncomfortable.
And then, on top of all the visual weirdness that was happening on the screen, there was also constant presence of "Blue Velvet," the song that the film takes its title from. The song, which was recorded by Bobby Vinton in 1963, would be just another charming 60's ballad if it weren't for the images that accompany it in this film. If I'd have heard "Blue Velvet" under other circumstances I would have thought, "gee, what a nice song about a man in love with a woman who happens to wear a blue velvet dress." Of course, after watching Blue Velvet I will now think to myself "oh god, this is that song from Blue Velvet that Booth likes to hear Dorothy sing before he does terrifying things to her." No matter how hard I try, I will forever associate the song with Dennis Hopper getting high on amyl nitrate and violating Isabella Rossellini. I can't help it. And, try as I might, I won't be able to think of the song as "charming" alongside those other thoughts.
I've tried and retried to find a way to wrap this post up, and for some reason I'm finding it bizarrely challenging. So here's the gist. Blue Velvet is good. Like... really good. It's not one that I'm likely to ever forget, and I look forward to the day when I get the chance to watch it again. Yes, it's rather disturbing and uncomfortable to watch, but I guess that's not really surprising. I mean, when a film starts with a young man finding a human ear you should be prepared for it all to go downhill from there.
I am truly torn as to whether or not I want to see this...
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