David Lynch’s ‘Blue Velvet’ As An Analysis Of Evil
This article has been syndicated with the permission of the publication ‘Excuse The Blood’
David Lynch’s 1986 cult classic ‘Blue Velvet’ is arguably the first film in his body of work that fully affirms what are now classic Lynchian tropes. These often occur within nostalgic, dreamlike settings which seem idyllic but cover a seedy underbelly, one that entices the intrigue and speculation of the films protagonist. It is one where a state of harmony and perfection is breached when the protagonist crosses a boundary into darkness, uncertainty and danger where evil consistently lurks. Violence and sexuality, as evidenced here, serve as gateways into this portal.
In the case of Blue Velvet, this idyllic world is represented in the lush, picket fenced suburbs of Lumberton, North Carolina, a world romanticized in the ideals of Ronald Reagan’s America and permeated by the comfortable post-war years experienced by many in the post-World War II baby boomer generation. Amidst the score of Lynch’s long-time collaborator Angelo Badalamenti, this nostalgia is further embellished with the use of the songs ‘Blue Velvet’ by Bobby Vinton and ‘In Dreams’ by Roy Orbison.
Fitting the genre of neo-noir, the narrative explores the misadventures of young Jeffrey Beaumount (Kyle McLachlan), who on discovering a human ear in a field, proceeds to investigate the case independently with an acquaintance, police detective’s daughter Sandy Williams (Laura Dern). The subsequent investigation, its plot twists and grueling subject matter lead Jeffrey further into the world of disturbed nightclub singer Dorothy Valens (Isabella Rosellini) and psychopathic sex criminal Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper).
What begins as eavesdropping on Valens apartment whilst pretending to be a pest control man becomes an entanglement in a twisted son-mother Oedipal sexual relationship between the two. Valens is also involved in an abusive sadomasochistic relationship with Frank Booth, who eerily interchanges between the role of a submissive son and a violent father, his schizoid outbursts accentuated by breathing into an oxygen mask.
McLachlan’s clean-cut, youthful, investigative character could easily pass for a college student precursor to the more mature Agent Dale Cooper, who McLachlan later portrays in the Lynch directed series Twin Peaks. Hopper’s legendary performance, whilst transgressive and pushing the boundaries of good taste has a twisted deviance that is partly Lynch’s originality, yet has all the classic traces of the villains played by Robert Mitchum in 1955’s Night Of The Hunter and 1962’s Cape Fear. Rosselini gives a stunning performance as tortured, visceral femme fatale Dorothy Valens, her role aestheticizing the perverse beauty and darkness inherent to the themes that are explored.
As part of a plot in which the heroic protagonist descends further into an abyss, Jeffrey’s soon to be romantic love interest Sandy prophesies a dream in which robins descend from the sky to consume the insects that have overran the earth. Not only does this hierophany suggest an eventual triumph of light over darkness, it compliments a motif that defines the beginning and the end of Blue Velvet, in which a descending zoom shot takes us from the glistening utopia of green grass of a garden lawn to a hellish colony of bugs that nest underneath.
Even something as implicit as Jeffrey posing as a pest controller can be interpreted as someone who comes to confront evil within the film. A zoom shot into the canal of the discarded ear that Jeffrey finds symbolizes the protagonist’s immersion into Lumberton’s wicked maelstrom, later zooming out in reverse to symbolize his emergence from his dangerous ordeals. A robin devours a bug towards the films conclusion, rekindling Sandy’s dream and affirming the triumph of love over evil.
Whilst 1977’s Eraserhead introduced us to many of the facades of the Lynchian world; a Kafka inspired nightmare world of blurred realities, layers of consciousness and subconsciousness and the interchanging of psychic realms, his next two feature films, 1980’s The Elephant Man and 1984’s Dune were only Lynchian so far as he directed them. Whilst there are undoubtedly touches of his quirks, oddities and aesthetics, they do not do much to further animate the wider conceptual frameworks that are explored in later work he would direct. This becomes truly foundational in Blue Velvet, and later goes on to taint later works, such as Twin Peaks, Wild At Heart, Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive.
Blue Velvet is ultimately a movie that carries concepts that Eraserhead left of at, cultivating a more accessible, real yet spiritually dark, violent, voyeuristic and erotic insight into the mythos of the American Dream. This is consistently reexamined and explored in different guises throughout Lynch’s career, and this is a great starting point for anyone wanting to familiarize themselves with his films.