Such was my first thought, as I watched, for the first time, in ten years, David Lynch's 1986 film, "Blue Velvet." I had last seen it, a decade ago, at the Film Forum, on its twentieth anniversary!!!!!!!!!!
But thirty made me feel old. Yet, after countless viewings the film was fresh, revealing to me, this time, things about my own psyche.
The first image is of a painted blue sky, then the camera drops to an equally looking fabricated white fence, highlighted by artificial roses. The music comes on softly, the depictions of small town idealism unfold, and, as Bobby Vinton croons, the viewer is seduced into the seductive world of "Blue Velvet." But wait! That seduction --literally--turns on its ear (no pun intended; all right, maybe!) as the camera burrows underneath, suggesting a world of darkness and ugliness underneath. A world that, much as many would not want to admit it, people are drawn to, as readily as Jeffrey, Sandy, or even Dorothy Vallens.
Not only had I forgotten how young the actors playing these roles--Kyle Maclachlan, Laura Dern, and Isabella Rossellini--I forgot how young I was, when I first saw this film, extolling it as an indictment of the small town ideal I had thought I had escaped--but had, I, really?
I mean, do we ever escape? We think we do, when young, but, having lived in New York longer now than my home town, I find the sections I go to I know as intimately as I once did my small town. Many of us escape from our origins to recreate our own fiefdom of small, individualized kingdoms. The only difference really is the choice was by us, not our parents.
Seeing "Blue Velvet" today, I question what is reality in it, or not? Is the beginning real? The ending? Or just what lies in between?
Thirty years ago, the whole Dorothy-Frank kidnapping thing, with Dean Stockwell, brilliantly camping it up as Ben, fascinated me. There was a part of me who wanted to go to parties at "This Is It," where I thought I might fit in. Today, I look at it, and admire the cinematic brilliance, while finding these people and places repugnant. But being once young, and having once thought of oneself as vulnerable--as youth tends to do--I think I was drawn in the same way as Jeffrey and Sandy. I definitely think a first-time viewer of this film--though how can you have reached your sixties, and not seen "Blue Velvet" would have a distinctly different reaction to having seen it when thirty years younger.
I had forgotten the brilliant array of character actors--Brad Dourif as Raymond, Jack Nance as Paul, even Kate Reid, as one of This Is It's party women--and how I once would have wanted to hang out with such people. I may have even wanted to be Ben.
But standing back and observing a dream--brilliant and apt uses of Roy Orbison's classic song--is different than being stuck in it, as Jeffrey finds out, and helps us older viewers to discover, as he goes on his "joy ride."
Youth, who don't understand, are instinctively drawn to the world of "Blue Velvet." while us oldsters, who know more than we did, understand enough to step away from such ugliness.
Our perceptions may change with time, but the artistry of the film does not. Which is what keeps me coming back to it. Details, like Laura Dern emerging in pink from the darkness, or Dennis Hopper, vanishing before one's eyes, after saying "I'll fuck anything that moves!" are images that stay with one, both because of their starkness and lyricism. Which coexist throughout the entirety of "Blue Velvet."
So, catch it while it is still at the Film Forum, darlings--it ends on the 31st, though I would not be surprised if it is held over--and learn something about yourselves.
Then there is my personal association with it. Frances Bay, the way she is made up to play Aunt Barbara, looks exactly like my maternal grandmother, whom I called Nana. Which is why my favorite line is when Jeffrey says to her--
"Aunt Barbara, I love you. But you're going to get it!"
No comments:
Post a Comment