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“A Strange World”: Thoughts on Blue Velvet and David Lynch

July 20, 2006

David Lynch is the Tom Waits of filmmaking. When you watch a movie by Lynch–or listen to a song by Waits–you can’t stop paying attention, but you’re not sure if it’s because it’s brilliant or because it’s crazy. Both artists clearly tap into something deep and unsettling, but it’s unclear whether either has a plan. Maybe it doesn’t matter. Perhaps Lynch is more like a musician than a filmmaker; using the camera and editing room as his instruments, he scrapes his psyche for powerful imagery and lets the viewer fill in the blanks of the narrative.

The most important point about watching a Lynch movie is understanding that no matter how hard you try, you’ll never get it. His movies are often called postmodern, but that’s just a fancy way of saying they make no sense. There is no secret symbolic story waiting to be uncovered. That’s not necessarily a fault, but it’s not always a virtue either.

Blue Velvet, which is commonly considered his masterpiece, is ostensibly about Jeff (Kyle MacLachlan), a college student who returns to Lumberton, USA, to care for his ailing father. On the way back from the hospital, he finds a severed human ear in a field. Determined to find the source of the body part, he becomes an amateur private detective with the help of Sandy Williams (Laura Dern), the daughter of a local police detective.

That setup may make Blue Velvet sound like a variation on Stand By Me, and I think that’s Lynch’s intention. When the story turns weird–very weird–we’re as shocked as Jeff. But before talking about that first memorable moment of ultra-weirdness, it’s worth talking about the opening scene, which is so captivating that it belongs in the pantheon of great opening sequences alongside The Godfather and Touch of Evil.

The first image after the opening credits is of five blood-red roses slightly swaying in front of a white picket fence and a cloudless blue sky. Then, a red firetruck passes by in slow motion while a fireman on the side of the truck grins and waves at the viewer. The camera tracks over to an old man watering his pristine suburban lawn. (We later learn it’s Jeff’s father.) He suddenly grabs his neck as if shot by a blowdart. After a moment of paralysis, he drops to the ground. The gardenhose tangles around his legs. A small dog, a Jack Russell terrier I think, comes over to sniff him and ends up playing with the hose, attempting to get a drink of water. Then things get odder as the camera zooms in on the man slowly, closer and closer to his body, until the camera is submerged in the blades of grass. As the camera slowly travels through the grass, our movie-going training in suspense conditions us to expect the answer to the mystery: a bullet shell perhaps. But there are no answers in the lawn; the camera plunges into the dirt, and we see hundreds of beetles climbing all over each other in the soil as the soundtrack amplifies the sound of beetle legs trampling beetle exoskeletons.

It’s tempting to say that the beetles represent the dark underworld of suburban American life, but that’s as misleading as it is glib. In Blue Velvet the characters who are shown in suburban settings–home, high school, the football field–are all innocent paragons of virtue. The twisted characters don’t live in track homes; they live in apartment buildings, old factory buildings and indeterminate bar-brothels.

Which brings us back to the first moment of ultra-weirdness. In an attempt to get more answers, Jeff sneaks into the apartment of Dorothy Vallens (Isabella Rosselini), a torch song singer at a local club. While there, Dorothy unexpectedly comes home, so Jeff sneaks into a closet. He witnesses Dorothy talk frantically on the phone about a man named Don, and then prostrate herself on the floor. But that’s not the weird stuff. After Dorothy finds him, forces him to kiss her under knifepoint and hide him back in the closet, a black-clad man named Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) enters the apartment. As Jeff watches on, Frank verbally abuses Dorothy for not preparing his bourbon. He pulls a gasmask out of his coat and inhales lithium while commanding Dorothy not to look at him. When she does, he punches her. Frank gets down on his knees and sticks pieces of Dorothy’s blue velvet robe in his mouth while he calls her mommy and she calls him daddy. After dry humping Dorothy with his pants on, he punches her again, knocking her out.

The intention, I think, is to create the atmosphere of a waking nightmare, and I was plenty disturbed by a number of the scenes that follow. For example, later, when Frank finds Jeff visiting Dorothy, he takes him to a strange place that’s a cross between an opium den, brothel and home for the obese, run by a man named Ben (Dean Stockwell in light drag, with a permanent bemused smile). There, Ben and Frank go off to do some business, perhaps a drug deal, although it’s never clear, which brings me to another fascinating point about Blue Velvet. As much as you can kind of follow the story, everything is ultimately a mystery.

What happened to Jeff’s father? Was it a stroke? A gunshot? Why is Jeff so intrigued by the ear? Why does he keep coming back to Dorothy’s apartment, after being threatened and nearly raped at knifepoint? What business is Frank in? What is the relationship between Sandy’s father and the corrupt cop who does business with Frank? Why does Frank fetishize blue velvet?

Lynch’s screenplay and filmmaking answer none of these questions, and while I’ve only seen the movie once, I suspect multiple viewings won’t help. Sure, maybe I could start putting together theories, but I’ve also stared at my childhood bedroom’s ceiling for so long that I’m sure I’ve seen the Korean peninsula and a man with a mustache. That doesn’t make me any wiser, does it?

But it’s precisely this impenetrability that makes Lynch movies such favorites of both pop critics and academic critics. For pop critics, the simple fact that Lynch’s narratives are unintelligible is enough for them to label it as art; since they condemn movies that they can figure out easily, they’re practically obliged to admire movies they can’t figure out at all. For academic critics, the flexibility of the narrative gives his movies that postmodern ambiguity they’re looking for. Because scenes and images are so random and bizarre, anyone with a Ph.D. in the humanities–be it a queer theorist, feminist critic, or classic deconstructionist–can come up with a reading that makes sense for their purposes. It’s like intellectural play-dough.

As Jeff becomes more involved in the mystery, his answers only beget more questions. He determines that Frank is holding Dorothy’s husband and son hostage and is keeping them alive in exchange for velvet sex. He learns that Sandy’s father’s partner, a detective who often wears a yellow coat, is in cahoots with Frank. Sandy asks him why he’s committed to this quest. “I’m seeing something that was always hidden,” he says. “I’m in the middle of a mystery and it’s all secret.”

Perhaps, between his conflicting desires to observe criminals and interact with them, Jeff’s experience is meant to mirror the experience of the moviegoer, who both observes, and projects himself onto, the events on-screen. But that doesn’t really add up either; at numerous other occasions, he speaks of ours being a “strange world” and wonders why people like Frank Booth have to exist. That kind of moral philosophizing seems to run counter to the typical moviegoer’s fascination with interesting villains.

Despite the movie’s inscrutability, despite its strangeness, I found it to be powerful and haunting. Lynch has a knack for identifying disturbing images–take an ant-covered human ear with mold, for one–and leering at it with the camera, the way you unconsciously stare at a burn victim. But he’s also masterful at creating suspense; somehow, despite the events being untethered to reality, I felt dread when Frank seeks out Jeff for a final showdown in Dorothy’s apartment.

But what really held Blue Velvet together for me was Dennis Hopper’s performance. Hopper’s always played crazy characters, but in some of his other roles–Hoosiers, for example–I got the sense that Hopper was actually weirder than his character, that it was a struggle for Hopper to keep his lunacy at a simmer rather than a boil. But in Blue Velvet, Lynch unleashed Hopper. Every bizarre choice that Hopper makes as an actor Lynch matches with cock-eyed dialogue or disturbing imagery. It’s as if the character had to be certifiably insane just to catch up to Hopper’s god-given looniness.

I accept, though, that most people find Blue Velvet to be just a whole bunch of weirdness with no point and no characters to care about. And they’re completely right. But whenever I’m unsure how much I liked a movie, I consider the film’s mental shelflife. And I fully expect to be thinking, talking and dreaming about this movie for a long time to come.

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29 Comments leave one →
  1. bro permalink
    July 21, 2006 6:57 pm

    Normally, nothing annoys me more than a critic calling a piece of art “self-indulgent” What the hell does that mean? If the artist weren’t indulging in the first place, there would be no art. If anything, artists should be more self-indulgent. That all being said, I find much of Lynch’s oevre to be highly self-indulgent, and I do mean that in the pejorative sense. Juxtaposing more or less unrelated “disturbing” images with the banalites of everyday life can be effective when there is a compelling narrative that anchors the viewer in place. When that narrative is less than compelling, as in wild at hear, or nonexistent, as in the latter half of mulholland drive, all you are left with is a bunch of visual non sequitors. Some of the non sequitors might be unsettling, some not, but the cumulative effect is less than the sum of the parts.
    On a side note, the bald eagle from the muppets and a map of italy were definitely in the plaster of my bedroom ceiling.

    • September 1, 2014 5:08 pm

      nem li o comentario, mas e mais para dizer que vou abandonar o site, e deixar aqui as minhas depedidas. um bem haja a todos os que conseguirem evitar ler o que quer que seja que e aqui escrito pelo autor do blog. recomenda-se.
      a nao leitura e claro

  2. Brad Glaser permalink
    July 22, 2006 5:38 pm

    I wonder if Lynch’s instincts are really that of a narrative filmmaker, or if he works in that medium because it is the standard of modern filmmaking, at least for anyone looking for any degree of commercial succuss, even art house commercial success. If he were in a less narrative-driven industry might he be making films like “Un Chien Andalou,” where the jarring images are the very purpose rather than supposed storytelling elements.

    I think the question of why we are so tied to film as a specifically narrative art form is an interesting one. There are certainly non-narrative films being made, but my sense is with a few notable expceptions, such as Godfrey Reggio’s work, they are student films playing to almost non-existent audiences. It may be a matter of public taste, in much the way novels outsell poetry collections by an obscene margin. But I wonder if there is also an element of film’s being still a very new medium and narrative being one of the most basic forms of communication. Might there develop over time more of a market for different artistic use of film (or video in general, to be fair) in more alternative structures. Of course, maybe there are alot more non-narrative art films reaching some kind of audience than I know of, especially living in a very poor market for independent cinema.

  3. bro permalink
    July 24, 2006 8:42 pm

    this might be a simplistic explanation, but I think the main reason for the relative popularity of narrative in film is the amount of time it takes to watch a film. if a viewer is committing an hour or two of their time, it is very difficult to sit through unless there are narrative strands connecting one scene to the next. compare that to poetry, or non-representational art, or even non-narrative music videos, where much smaller time frames are required. of course cost is also a factor, since filming a movie is much more expensive then creating other types of art, so in order to obtain funding, your work must have commercial potential

  4. Brad Glaser permalink
    July 24, 2006 11:42 pm

    Interesting that you bring up music videos. They sometimes go outside the box, but even videos are most often narrative or documentary (shots of the band playing) or a combination of the two. I agree with you on the commercial aspect, but it still begs the very question of whether there is any audience for non-narrative filmmaking. I see it as a bit of a chicken-and-egg question. There’s so little of it available on any widescale basis, it’s hard to know if there is an audience would respond to it. It’s easy to forget now, but the novel didn’t exist until the middle ages and really only became a vehicle of artistic expression with Don Quixote (this point is arguable depending on what definition of “novel ” you use.) For quite a long time thereafter novels and poetry (much of it long-form) competed for popular attention, until the novel eventually proved ascendant. I certainly don’t expect such a rise in non-narrative filmmaking anytime soon. I just feel that we’re still just scratching the surface of video (used in the non-pejorative sense) as a medium, and that a filmmaker like Lynch might be showing us a bit of that.

  5. bro permalink
    July 25, 2006 4:48 pm

    I would argue that non-narrative forms of art have never been commercially popular in any media- painting (in that non-representational “modern” art can be considered non-narrative), sculpture, literature etc- except for popular music. It seems that the expectations of pop music have evolved in a different direction then other media, away from concept albums or even listening to an entire album.

  6. July 25, 2006 5:21 pm

    Very perceptive comments, gentlemen. I have to go with bro on this one–if you don’t have a narrative, you won’t find a mainstream audience. There’s only one media where you could argue that a lack of narrative hasn’t gotten in the way of its popular success, and that’s music videos… but look closer. First off, many of the most popular music videos–November Rain, Thriller, Beat It–have some semblance of a story, but even for those that don’t, the music is the story. That is to say, the dramatic structure of the song supplies an emotional journey similar to the story arc of narrative film.

    Even in the world of visual art, which would seem to reject the demands of the narrative imperative, the most well-known paintings seem to spring from a narrative in some way. Guernica is easily the most well-known work of non-representative painting, and it derives its popularity from its grounding in an actual historical event. Even the Mona Lisa–which is just a portait of a woman–has been turned into a narrative by the familiar question, “Why is Mona Lisa smiling?” And the success of Van Gogh? It’s half the power of his art, and half the fact that his life makes a great story.

    The reason that story rules over all else may be that stories act as wish fulfillment. Characters in stories have clear motives, have easily understood goals and resolve their issues in some sort of definitive way (even if the ending is unhappy). Most people, however, are conflicted messes of indecision, unsure if their path in life is the right one, unsure which motivations are the best ones to follow. This may be a hint why religious people seem more concerned with values than story in their artwork; they already have a clear-cut personal narrative of following God’s will.

  7. Brad Glaser permalink
    July 25, 2006 5:45 pm

    I do see the comparison, but non-representational and non-narrative are rather different concepts. I would say that the vast majority of painting and sculpture is non-narrative, with obvious exceptions, e.g. triptychs, illuminated texts. They may allude to stories we know or inspire the mind to create stories around them but they are static in nature. I would actually say that popular music is more narrative in structure than static visual art, as many if not most songs have some sort of simple story structure, though I freely admit that this is a loose narrative structure in many cases.

    My recent visits to the obnoxiously-crowded Museum of Modern Art would also argue somewhat with your claim on the commercial viability of non-representational art, but I do think you are right in that the public at large (important in terms of the analogy to cinema) is not enamoured of non-representational visual art.

    So, my refined assertion/question: The art of filmmaking has taken its cues more from the novel and theater than from other visual art forms. Was this inevitable due to public taste or were those tastes shaped, at least in part, by the concious (or even unconcious) choices and pervading influence by the pioneers of the form, bequeathing to modern filmmakers the expectation of continuing in a similar vein?

    P.S. I’d love for someone with more knowledge than I of non-narrative filmmaking to completely blow up my argument with more examples of the form.

  8. Brad Glaser permalink
    July 25, 2006 5:55 pm

    MOWC, I posted my last response before seeing your most recent one. I think we are actually close to agreement here but using out terms somewhat differently. I am perhaps using “non-narrative” in a little more restrictive way, as I am considering just the explicit narrative within a work of art. When you consider the idea of the viewer/consumer bringing their own narrative to/from the work, I agree it is an essential element for any art to be effective. So, perhaps I should re-frame slightly to say that almost all of popular film is structured with an explicit narrative, whereas most static visual art has a more implicit narrative. Of course, I recognize that the line between the explicit and implicit is a blurry one here, but I think it is a useful disctinction for these purposes.

  9. bro permalink
    July 25, 2006 8:48 pm

    nick hornby had a very interesting comment in his latest book, something along the lines that people have children in order to create a narrative for their own life. a narrative creates purpose, whether it be a religious narrative- live morally, go to church every sunday, go to heaven- or my own narrative- watch/listen to every red sox game until they win the world series- and i’ve been living my own epilog ever since

  10. Sahil permalink
    July 26, 2006 2:28 pm

    hey guys, i’m a friend of bradley’s from jesus knows how long. he thought i may have something to add to the discussion b/c i’m a huge “blue velvet” and lynch fan in general. i don’t have anything original or insightful to add, but that’s never stopped me before. so here goes:

    i’ve been reading a lot of experimental fiction lately and one of the books (david markson’s “wittgenstein’s mistress”) actually reminded me a lot of lynch’s style of narrative. the words make sense and you recognize what each of them are individually, but when they’re combined into dialogue, you realize that the “self-indulgence” or pomposity is for a specific reason: to make you concentrate on the word-usage and placement rather than specific plot/meaning. lynch’s dialogues are a lot like that, with the added advantage of using sound and vision to further skew a viewer’s interpretation. he realizes that putting certain words in someone’s mouth like “killer”, “crazy”, “torture” or whatever are easy markers for a viewer to pick up and will color how they see a character. nonsensical words like “no ibanda” or whatever the hell that woman said in “mulholland drive” do the opposite–they confuse the viewer and he or she has to fall back on visuals to interpret. this gives him tons of playroom and he can really fuck with someone’s mind just by putting a carnation in a lapel, have a good guy wear a black hat, have someone huff nitrous, etc.

    as far as non-narrative filmmaking, i’d say one of the dirtiest/quickest examples is the standard horror movie. the narrative is the least important aspect of the film and the words are the ultimate bit part. the visuals and audio-effects are centerpiece and are only mildly enhanced by the actual words. lynch is a far more sophisticated filmmaker than a wes craven or a dario argento (and definitely more than bunuel and dali) and has a much deeper grasp of the combined effects of narration/visuals/music on a viewer (don’t forget-lynch also directs music videos).

    non-narrative films like “powaqqatsi” also feel less real–having just music with visuals and no words spoils the viewer’s interpretation of both. you see a bullock cart on 5th avenue and you may have your personal soundtrack that doesn’t involve phillip fucking glass. personally, i would’ve used norwegian black metal.

  11. July 26, 2006 7:20 pm

    First off, I’m pretty sure it’s Spanish: “No hay banda,” meaning, as the weird dude says, “There is no band.”

    But I wonder if the narrative is the least important part of a horror film. While that’s certainly the case for a bad horror film, horror films that are truly scary usually rely on suspense–which seems like the most essential tool of the narrative filmmaker–and the audience’s attachment to particular characters. It’s hard to be too afraid of the killer in most horror movies because the characters are so cliched and unrelatable; in fact, in many cases, the audience ends up rooting for the killer.

    But there does seem to be a whole new school of horror filmmaking out of Japan that’s explicitly nonsensical, such as The Ring, The Spiral and lots of other scary rounded objects (is The Button next?). These movies–both the originals and the remakes–may be the first commercially successful movie genre since the early days of film that rejects the demands of narrative.

  12. Brad Glaser permalink
    July 26, 2006 7:58 pm

    Sa, I’m not sure I agree with your assertion that Lynch is “definitely” a “far more sophisticated filmmaker” than Luis Bunuel, but if you just mean that in reference to his work with Dali, I can come closer to accepting it.

    I disagree with you on most horror movies (more specifically slasher flicks, which seem to be more what you’re referring to.) While their narratives are generally crap, if anything they are often plot-heavy (for what they are trying to do,) with the viewer having to endure a laborious backstory on the killer character that slows down the people-getting-hacked-into-tiny-pieces without particularly ratcheting up the suspense. Now, it is perhaps the best of the genre are the least narrative-heavy (the original “Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” the original “The Hills Have Eyes,”) but you still couldn’t call these films non-narrative; they’re just not plot heavy.

    As an example I hadn’t thought of, what about short-form comedy, especially BBC shows? Some of their transitional skits on Monty Python especially have no plot at all, just a single gag and usually one that’s designed for film, i.e. not just converted stage gags. Animation has also explored this area to greater effect (or at least to greater audiences) than live action. Fantasia is as close to a full-length popular picture as I can think of that is nearly non-narrative, though of course even here there are the bare bones of plot.

  13. Sahil permalink
    July 26, 2006 11:03 pm

    sorry-meant dali/bunuel mostly because “un chien andalou” was mentioned before and is, to summarize bradley, 15 minutes designed to shock. i don’t think lynch makes movies purely to shock, but then again i haven’t seen “rabbits” or “darkened room.” and i still have no idea what to make of “eraserhead.”

    hmm. the “no hay banda” thing is interesting–i figured the english “there is no band” underscored betty’s hollowness and self-deception. the spanish makes it more complete since betty and rita speak english/spanish, the singer was lip-synching a spanish version of an english song, etc. that’s neat–thanks for that, micah. for the longest time, i thought it had something to do with raul ibanez or something.

    i guess we’re split on the horror films, but it’s an interesting assortment that you both considered–“the ring” v. “texas chainsaw.” both are frightening and suspenseful for different reasons, but i think it has less to do with dialogue than visuals and the suspense caused by the dis/appearance of particular images. i agree, though-i wouldn’t call them non-narrative. when i posted, i was thinking of that awful movie “hostel” that came out last year. while not “non-narrative,” it reminded me why i hate that genre: no decent dialogue, narration just to get you from one gross scene to another, pretty bad. maybe zombie movies are closer to non-narrative?

    anyway, bradley brings up an interesting point re: animation. not only fantasia but the shorts pixar runs before movies, etc. “one man band,” which they ran before “cars,” had no words and was just a combo of visuals and music, but had a plot and plot movement. it’s non-narrative art that definitely reaches a mass audience and gets favorable treatment from critics/moviegoers alike. maybe animation gets a free pass because you have to suspend disbelief, but definitely an exceptionally mainstream example i hadn’t thought of before. granted, it’s the trailer to a blockbuster, but it’s still seen by a large chunk of america.

  14. Derrick permalink
    July 11, 2008 3:34 pm

    What a shitty intrepration of a movie, blue velvet is his most profound work? Have you heard of Lost Highway? Not to mention the fact that Mulholland Drive is by far his most complete, and sexiest thriller yet! This is strictly amateur hour!

  15. Mustafa permalink
    April 30, 2012 5:10 am

    You cannot say “no matter how hard you try you’ll never get it” regarding Lynch’s work. Over three days I watched Mulholland Dr, Lost Highway, and Blue Velvet – in that order. All three have a straightforward story told in a brilliantly stylized way. I’m quite surprised that Lynch fans don’t “get it” even though he leaves clues and hints throughout the narrative. The clearest hint was in Lost Highway when Mr. Eddy beats up the man who overtakes him on the road (on Mulholland Dr, in fact) yelling (I paraphrase) “There are rules! Rules!!” Lynch follows his own rules. I proceeded to write up an explanation of Lost Highway as it was the most interesting of the three films. If you or anyone is interested let me know and I can email you my short and straightforward explanation.

    • ben permalink
      February 4, 2013 12:17 am

      Mustafa,

      Can you email me explanations of all three movies (Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive, and Blue Velvet?

      • July 22, 2014 2:58 pm

        lost highway: fred madison creates in his mind a world where he is the opposite of what he is in reality. the dream begins when the prison doctor tells him now you will sleep. everywhere you go there you are. eventually even in his dream world reality begins to creep in and he can not escape himself.

      • July 22, 2014 3:08 pm

        blue velvet: a young man from a traditional family is introduced to that family’s dark counterpart when he begins his own investigation and discovers the dark world beneath the sunny serenity of suburbia. jeffrey’s father is the superego. when his father is rendered immobile jeffrey meets his father’s dark counterpart (jeffrey’s id) frank booth. without his father’s guidance frank leads jeffrey across the line from witness to participant.

      • July 22, 2014 3:11 pm

        Mulholland Drive: as opposed to being introduced to the dreamer first in this film we are introduced to the dream. rita is not an amnesia victim. she IS amnesia. she is the mental block that keeps the dreams from realizing the horror that her life as become. in the theater of the mind when the key is placed into the box, the mental block/rita disappears and reality creeps in.

      • July 22, 2014 3:20 pm

        ” she IS amnesia. she is the mental block that keeps the dreams from realizing the horror that her life as become” should have read ” she IS amnesia. she is the mental block that keeps the dreamER (not dreamS) from realizing the horror that her life as become.”

    • July 22, 2014 3:13 pm

      Mulholland Drive: as opposed to being introduced to the dreamer first in this film we are introduced to the dream. rita is not an amnesia victim. she IS amnesia. she is the mental block that keeps the dreams from realizing the horror that her life as become. in the theater of the mind when the key is placed into the box, the mental block/rita disappears and reality creeps in.
      blue velvet: a young man from a traditional family is introduced to that family’s dark counterpart when he begins his own investigation and discovers the dark world beneath the sunny serenity of suburbia. jeffrey’s father is the superego. when his father is rendered immobile jeffrey meets his father’s dark counterpart (jeffrey’s id) frank booth. without his father’s guidance frank leads jeffrey across the line from witness to participant.
      lost highway: fred madison creates in his mind a world where he is the opposite of what he is in reality. the dream begins when the prison doctor tells him now you will sleep. everywhere you go there you are. eventually even in his dream world reality begins to creep in and he can not escape himself.

      • July 22, 2014 3:16 pm

        ” she IS amnesia. she is the mental block that keeps the dreams from realizing the horror that her life as become” should have read ” she IS amnesia. she is the mental block that keeps the dreamER (not dreamS) from realizing the horror that her life as become.”

  16. September 18, 2012 1:11 pm

    Just watched this recently for film studies class,well I could said that I could not comprehend whenever I loved or hated this film. There is beauty about this film yet it was disturbing (Dennis Hopper scared the crap out of me for this part). Interesting analysis 🙂

    • July 22, 2014 10:34 pm

      blue velvet: a young man from a traditional family is introduced to that family’s dark counterpart when he begins his own investigation and discovers the dark world beneath the sunny serenity of suburbia. jeffrey’s father is the superego. when his father is rendered immobile jeffrey meets his father’s dark counterpart (jeffrey’s id) frank booth. without his father’s guidance frank leads jeffrey across the line from witness to participant.

  17. July 22, 2014 2:56 pm

    lynch’s films are like abstract art. it demands of the viewer to put something into the viewing experience. also i find that i can discover multiple meanings to his films depending upon the mood i am in when i watch them.

  18. January 8, 2015 4:35 pm

    Today i spent 300 $ for platinium roulette system , i hope that i will make my first money online

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