Critic's Grade: C

"Blue Velvet" is equal parts cinematic brilliance and moviemaking madness, a charybdis of unending viscera that ultimately becomes sullied by its own underdeveloped plot. I hate movies like this: there is so much in the material that is good, even excellent in some cases, and it's so hard for me to come to the realization that these instances are few and far between when placed in conjunction with a story that loses focus of the meat and concentrates on the bare bones.

The film is directed by David Lynch, who has made a name for himself with his film version of Frank Herbert's "Dune," and "Eraserhead." Here, he takes the audience into a world where reality and illusion walk hand-in-hand down the path of life, a place where nothing is at it appears to the eye, and everyone walks with an aura of suspicion surrounding them.

Of the many elements I noticed throughout the piece, the main factor that stands out is Lynch's wonderful juxtaposition of real and surreal through his imagery and cinematography. The opening shots of the film showcase the American Dream in its wondrous glory, from white picket fences surrounded by beautiful arrays of flowers, to a quiet, sunny neighborhood where all is at peace. And then, Lynch pulls the rug out from under us with a startling image of an elderly man suffering from a heart attack right on his front lawn, in a shot that pans to the depths of his grassy lawn, where a group of roaches pounce on their prey. What a fitting way to set up a film; if nothing else, this shot at least heightens our expectations for something more.

Too bad we have to settle for less than such. The heart attack victim's son, Jeffrey Beaumont (Kyle MacLachlan) arrives to pay him a visit; during a walk back from the hospital through a clearing in the woods, he finds a severed human ear in the grass. He retrieves it and brings it to the attention of Detective Williams (George Dickerson), who asks that Jeffrey neither ask about further details or let anyone else know about his disturbing find.

Enter Williams' daughter, Sandy (Laura Dern), a crafty eavesdropper who gives Jeffrey the information he wants during a night stroll. She gives him the name of a woman whose name she overhears repeatedly, and then leads him to her apartment. Jeffrey, acting out some childish, boyhood detective fantasy (or maybe he's just flat-out stupid), pounces on the opportunity to break into the woman's apartment, who turns out to be Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rossellini), a lounge singer who crones out the lyrics to "Blue Velvet" and boasts sad, droopy eyes that speak volumes of something sinister and long-hidden from the world.

Jeffrey is instantly intrigued, though we're not entirely sure if his later actions are more out of obsession for Dorothy, or out of an instinctive need to help others in peril. At first, we get inklings of the latter, as seen in a moment of uncommonly powerful violence when, hidden in Dorothy's closet, he witnesses a most brutal torment burdened upon her by a man named Frank (Dennis Hopper). Now, mind you, Frank, is no ordinary villain: he breathes continually through an oxygen mask, gets his kicks from calling Dorothy names like "T***" and "S***head," and watching her spread eagle so he can marvel her slice of Heaven and pinch her nipples. I'm telling you, it's extreme, and very unsettling.

There are many scenes like this that follow, as Jeffrey becomes involved more intimately with Dorothy, who pleads with him on more than once sexual occassion to exact some measure of physical abuse on her. Soon after they begin their affair, Frank finds out, and he and a group of buddies take the two twisted lovers for a car ride that carries with it a heavy undercurrent of suspense. Much of the tension revolves around the unpredictable nature of Frank, who is one of those rare movie characters that evokes chills with a simple glance; he's a sparking, snapping live wire full of high voltage that keeps the events at a feverpitch.

Again, I like these elements of the movie. The images seen in the beginning moments continue throughout, developing into more shocking moments that are thrown at us when we least expect it (i.e. the severed ear, the torture scene, not to mention a very heated argument between Jeffrey and Dorothy when she finds him snooping in her apartment). The acting is superb, with Hopper taking the cake in one of the performances of his career; the other cast members fall victim to lapses in their characters, but I'm getting ahead of myself with that and will explain later. As for the story, the development of the mystery in the first act is involving, the suspense in the second and third acts exciting.

It's only now, looking back on the experience, that I'm having trouble relating to it. There are a number of things missing from the film's plot, crucial elements such as character development and backstory that leave wide, gaping holes for the audience without so much as a clue or trinket of some sort to build a conclusion around. For instance, we know next to nothing of the unstable nature of Dorothy; I mean, sure, anyone who endures such a torment by such a horrid man as Frank will undoubtedly be fragile, but why does she insist that Jeffrey treat her in the same manner if she is so afraid of being hurt? There is a torrid sex scene between the two of them in which Jeffrey strikes her repeatedly; later, alone in his bedroom, he show remorse for his actions. Why? Why did he abuse her in the first place? Why did he feel compelled to console her at all? Is it out of pity? Obsession?

And then there's the question of Frank's harsh actions. What has conditioned this man to act out in such violent, unyielding displays of violence? Could be an overdose of supplemental testosterone, or it could be the result of a childhood riddled with parental mistreatment... who's to say? The character development in later scenes is so underdone and lacking that we haven't a clue as to what we should be feeling for Jeffrey, Dorothy, Frank, or anyone, for that matter. This also has an effect on the tension of the piece: in retrospect, the intensity of certain scenes was more in-the-moment, and has no lasting impact after the final reel.

This could be the result of Lynch's script, which places too much focus on unimportant matters and potential surprise twists involving secondary characters, only to drop them completely in the horribly misplaced happy ending. I like the idea that Sandy appears in the movie as Jeffrey's sole basis in reality, while the rest of his life is awash in nightmarish visions, but the movie chooses to focus more on this aspect than on developing the bond between Jeffrey and Dorothy, which drops out of the picture completely about twenty minutes before the final frame. There is a mystery involving a supposed husband and child kidnapped by Frank to keep Dorothy under his whim, but it is never expanded upon. Lynch also toys with the notion that many of his supporting characters like Detective Williams may have something to do with the darker side of the plot, but none of these generate into anything but inklings.

And last, but not least (as if I haven't said enough yet), I'm absolutely appalled by Lynch's evident misogynistic tendencies that run rampant throughout the piece. He places a talented actress like Dern into a role so unbefitting of her talents, while requiring Rossellini to act in ways that make you feel pity for her rather than her character. I was compelled to avert my eyes in a late sequence in which she appears on Jeffrey's lawn totally naked; such a display is disturbing not in the context of the material, but just seeing the actress reduced to such standards.

In a way, I like movies like "Blue Velvet" because they give me the incentive to express my feelings in ways no blockbuster or generic thriller ever could. The film is certainly an eye-opening experience, and it grips the audience in a vice of sustained disbelief throughout its entire running time. And yet, the story is hollow, a shoddy attempt at an erotic thriller/murder mystery/character study that fails to attain our interest in those who populate it. In some ways, "Blue Velvet" has the look of the fabric from which it derives its name, but it lacks the texture and feel to make it truly mesmerizing.

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