The recent passing of the ever inimitable David Lynch was grieved by many, both deep within and far beyond the typical cinephile circles that his odd and surreal work primarily attracted. However niche his style may have been at the beginning of his career, his particular aesthetic soon preceded his own work in how palpable it was, exemplified in the coining of the term ‘Lynchian’, even to those who may have never viewed his work. I say this as someone who regrettably never saw any of Lynch’s projects – save for his take on Dune – prior to his passing. Yet, even during this time, I was still seduced by his hazy dream-like portraits of sleepy towns and forays into dark mysteries – having experienced his influence in other media. Across all sorts of mediums, such as Gravity Falls all the way to Silent Hill, Lynch’s knack for framing the eidolic cracks that snake through our regular world was oft replicated, inspiring many who sought to capture a particular brand of shock, horror and awe.
So when the chance to watch Blue Velvet at the BFI Southbank appeared on my birthday, it was no surprise that I scrambled for the opportunity to actually experience a Lynch movie – and scramble I did, as me and my cousin bundled into our seats about six minutes late into the showing! Yet, I can safely say that even if we were to have viewed those six minutes we lost, little would’ve changed in how utterly dazed we were left by the time the credits rolled. Having only experienced works influenced by Lynch’s style, I still don’t think I was fully prepared for how truly absurd his style was and I loved every single woozy second of it.
“Lynch’s knack for framing the eidolic cracks that snake through our world was oft replicated…”
We follow a young Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan), who, when visiting his hometown, stumbles across a severed human ear. The subsequent mystery sparked has him delve into the shadow of his seemingly innocuous town, tussling with a disturbed lounge singer (Isabella Rossellini) and reckoning with a bizarre crime kingpin (Dennis Hopper) in his efforts to not only solve the pertinent questions, but also satiate his increasingly dangerous primal curiosity. It is the exploration of the latter that makes Blue Velvet so hypnotically brilliant. The actual mystery at hand, captured through lingering shots and dimly lit seedy settings, is almost of little consequence. Whilst certainly befuddling, inviting you to put the pieces together, it is the observation of this particular lust for mystery itself, seen through Jeffrey, that stay with you long after the film’s end. Lynch, for all his eccentricities, highlighted through strange cutaways and the incorporation of off-kilter (yet fantastic) performances, delivers a pointed treatise on our own curiosity, and the lengths we may go to quench it. As such, it is no surprise that the film can be particularly graphic, choosing to frame this exploration through violence and sex – but it is far from gratuitous, as every instance of it, no matter how bizarre, serves to grasp at the heart of unchecked desire, and does so with dream-like mastery.
There is little I can say without spoiling the experience for you, and even if I attempted to, I fear I would give more away than I already have. So I encourage you to give this, or any Lynch project a go! That dumbfounded high that clouded me so during my viewing is something I crave for again – and no one can elicit that quite so well as David Lynch.