Red, White, and Blue Velvet

I chose Blue Velvet for my Independence Day movie. I guess that's about as good a slice of Americana as one can get. I bought the Criterion blu-ray a few weeks ago but last night was my first chance to watch it. The picture looks pristine with colours as vivid as Lynch wanted--the release is one of Criterion's "Director Approved". The sound is great. When the yellow man reflexively smacked the lamp, I jumped at the sound.

It's nice to know the movie can still make me uncomfortable. I'm not too jaded yet. I remember, even when Roger Ebert didn't like the movie, he praised Lynch's voyeuristic setup. A friend of mine who's seen all kinds of disturbing movies said nothing made him feel more like he was seeing something he shouldn't be watching than the scene of Kyle MacLachlan in the closet, watching Isabella Rossallini. Of course, he didn't intend to be a voyeur, he ducked into the closet when she came home unexpectedly. But he doesn't avert his eyes, either. Rossalini's so good when she finds him, her face looks sharper than the knife she holds to him. I wonder if she was ever in a movie where she got to beat someone in a fury. She's so convincingly appalled and furious at him it sells just how bad Dennis Hopper's character is that she takes comfort in MacLachlan's presence later.

MacLachlan's character, Jeffrey, doesn't understand his compulsions really. You could say he's cut adrift by his father's injury, he lacks the guiding influence of a firm parental figure. But I think for most people, our desires and impulses come before our capacity to explain them.

Laura Dern's so good, too. She's so fresh and unvarnished, the true blue contrast to Rossallini's blue velvet. Every member of the cast is great, down to Brad Dourif in the tiny role of one of Hopper's lackeys. It's weird going from seeing him star in Wise Blood to being a bit player a few years later. But I imagine a lot of actors would've done anything to be in a David Lynch movie.

Sonnet 1999

As triple colours blind a pair of eyes
Excited fire sprites repeal the sound
Of gospel tracks to magnify the cries
Of humid spirits, soaking up the ground.
A sweaty circus girl assays the stage
Behind a Hamlet clutching bodkin close
Before his breast that forms a brittle cage
To trap canaries thirsty for a dose.
His heart's a poison vial shaped for lust
And boredom driven dames who venture rash
In darkened halls with wild eyes and trust
In ev'ry bolt of lace and silken sash.
The Prince has bought a bargain box of tin.
The curtain falls on Denmark once again.