How does a superb talent produce great, meaning-laden art when the true world is a small, irrational, nothingness? That is David Lynch's great dilemma. He himself has said as much: "People can't accept the meaninglessness of life." But how can one become a great painter, when the only color is black and everyone is blind?
Fortunately for Lynch, he's wrong about "people." The great tragedy of our days is that so many people DO accept that life is meaningless. So his attempted rebellions against "the ordinary" become, instead, financially successful, critically acclaimed icons of our empty lives. Poor David, instead of a starving, tortured Van Gogh, he becomes the popular Norman Rockwell of nihilism, the central freak in our favorite sideshow of moral dwarves and genetically defective imaginations.... all the way to the bank.
As a result, there is an essentially pornographic character to his films, especially this one. No, not the sex, or even the sexual perversion. But the evil.
Many years ago, a young homosexual told me he saw gays as divided into two groups: fairies and queers. The fairies were homosexual because they were attracted to men. The queers were attracted to men because they were attracted to homosexuality -- it was perverse. This is the universal attraction of the pornographic, as opposed to the erotic. The excitement of the forbidden, the abnormal, the hidden. The Queer.
In Blue Velvet, David Lynch's favorite Queer is evil, and he treats us to two hours of figurative strip tease with her. This is the dilemma of the conventional nihilist: He is repelled by evil, because of his normal upbringing, and yet his convictions tell him there is no good or evil. There is no valid reason to be repelled by this Queer (because there is really no valid reason for anything). Yet he is repelled, but also attracted. He must come back to watch her strip again and again.
In the end, twentieth-century nihilists such as Lynch and his fans cannot successfully suppress their moral imagination and their demand for meaning in life, just as nineteenth-century Victorians could not suppress their sexuality and passion. Any vision or program based upon such fundamental misunderstandings of human nature is doomed to failure. Reality leaks through the facade. Then the culture's most popular pornography points to its biggest lies.
Thus, 1886 gave us "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde," and 1986 gave us "Blue Velvet." The difference seems to be that R.L. Stevenson knew what he was doing, consciously portraying the neuroses of his time, while Lynch appears to be without a clue. As a result, in 2086 "Jekyll and Hyde" will still be read as literature, but "Blue Velvet" will only be studied as a cultural artifact of the 20th century, not as art.
So, do you want to see this movie? Ask yourself these questions:
1) Do I suffer from major depression, bi-polar disorder, or schizophrenia?
If "yes," avoid this movie, and under no circumstances watch it alone. [This is NOT a joke; it is medical advice. I myself take medication for recurring major depression. Suicide is permanent.]
2) (A) Am I embarrassed for the President when he simplistically calls the 9-11 terrorists "evil-doers," without trying to understand their grievances and culture?
If "yes," BUY a copy of this movie. You'll watch it again and again.
If "no," ask yourself:
2) (B) Would I like to watch a talented actor (Dennis Hopper) give a spellbinding portrayal of a truly evil human being?
If "yes," you may want to watch this. Just realize that, like most rape victims, you'll want to spend an hour in the shower afterwards. I recommend that, instead, you watch the massively underrated Robert Mitchum in Cape Fear (1962) or The Night of the Hunter (1955).
Regardless of your answers above, if you're intellectually curious, if you'd like to know what Lynch is really trying to say, borrow this movie for free from somewhere and watch it until the shot of the bugs. Then turn it off. You'll have gotten his point. You'll only have invested a few minutes of your time. And you won't have to wash your hands afterwards.
Finally, if you want a better understanding of the cultural neuroses that produced this movie, I recommend two surprisingly unrelated books, both by undisputed masters of English prose. The first, "The Abolition of Man" by C.S. Lewis, is an essay on human nature masquerading as a treatise on the philosophy of education. It's a much lighter and more entertaining read than that capsule summary sounds. The second, "Witness" by Whittaker Chambers, is formally the story of his life, his work as a spy, his break with the Communist Party, and his exposure of his fellow spies. But the book is actually an impassioned memoir of his own spiritual struggles against 20th century moral nihilism.
[All scholars of all political stripes agree that archives declassified since the end of the Cold War conclusively show that Chambers was telling the truth about himself, Hiss, and the other Communist spies. So we can now read "Witness" without worrying about who was really lying. We know Hiss was lying.]
My rating: 3 out of 10. [Dennis Hopper: 8 of 10. David Lynch: on a scale of 0 to 10, -5]
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