Movie Review: Blue Velvet - Page 2

There are countless approaches to take in regards to the material. Some view the triangle as evidence of a sort of Oedipal family, with Frank’s aggression and violence as an expression of the abuse within several families. Jeffrey’s inclination towards Dorothy is, consequently, a slight inference as to how a son might feel about his mother experiencing such ill-treatment. Perhaps the light tones that sandwich the picture serve to betray our trust, almost like a father’s regret after a particularly fierce cycle of brutality.

Another possibility is to put more of the “blame” on the character of Jeffrey. He is the voyeur; he is the unsolicited caller in the dominion of this circle of criminals. While it is true that Dorothy appears to be held captive by these men on the surface, we only have Jeffrey’s view to trust. He is in almost every scene and his angle is the only one Lynch grants us. It is possible, hence, that Jeffrey betrays us. And, with his perfidy, it is probable that Jeffrey wants Dorothy for himself and is enticed by the sense of jeopardy and sadomasochism in which she exists.

The other approach is the rational approach. With Lynch admitting to Jeffrey being somewhat autobiographical, perhaps it is accurate to suppose Jeffrey is telling us the truth. In other words, the narrative is proper, Frank Booth is immoral, and Dorothy is the Damsel in Distress. Sandy is the associate on the side, the “true love,” and Dorothy is the sense of danger that imposes itself in the middle of Jeffrey’s faultless cosmos. Of course, we have Jeffrey’s nosiness to contend with. He could have simply left things alone. Myself, I think I would have walked straight past that fucking ear…

The performances here are all excellent. Isabella Rossellini’s devotion to Dorothy Vallens is so soul-emptying that Roger Ebert found himself unable to stomach it, going so far as to reprimand Lynch for forcing the poor woman to go through the shit she did for the role. She is gloom personified, a broken and trampled woman whose soul has long since left this earth. In the hands of Frank Booth, she finds existence and death, ache and bliss, shock and ease. Rossellini’s incarnation of these principles is stellar.

Dennis Hopper’s Frank Booth is petrifying in his psychosis, his abruptness, and his frenzied temperament. He visibly has a host of mental issues (or does he?) and imbibes a substance through a mask and an oxygen tank (the drug was, according to Hopper, supposed to be amyl nitrate, although Lynch’s script called for helium). As the central figure in Lumberton’s criminal underworld, Booth’s confused characteristics guide him through his existence. He switches back and forth between a “daddy” and “baby” facade in a night with Dorothy, forcing her at moments and warmly engaging her at others. But Booth’s entire existence is based on misuse and ignominy, as he repeats his line “Don’t you fucking look at me” as if to time a divine getaway.

Article Author: Jordan Richardson

Jordan Richardson is a Canadian freelance writer and maple syrup enthusiast. His film reviews can be found at the Canadian Cinephile's Reviews and his music reviews are located at the Canadian Audiophile's Reviews and News. Mr. …

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