“I don’t know if you’re a detective or a pervert.”
The above line sums up a central theme of the film with succinct accuracy. I have vague memories of my parents renting this film when I was a child. I was not allowed to watch it at around seven or eight years old. What I do remember is sneaking into the hallway to try and see what it was I wasn’t allowed to see. I remember Kyle Maclachlan because I was obsessed with Dune at the time and I remember Dennis Hopper because he was always screaming and had that oxygen mask. As soon as I was old enough, I rented the film for myself and I rarely go long without a re-watch. I love this film. I consider it one of the very best films of the 1980s and one of my favorite films of David Lynch’s entire career.
What’s the deal?
It’s a mystery and a hyper-sexualized coming of age story all rolled into a two hour feature film. It stars Kyle Maclachlan as Jeffrey, a college student returned home after his father falls ill, who happens across a severed ear in a field and takes it upon himself to investigate. Laura Dern co-stars as Sandy, a high school senior who is the daughter of a local detective on this case. She aids Jeffrey in his own investigation and the two form a budding romantic relationship. Dennis Hopper plays a psychotic criminal who is the perpetrator of the severed ear and Isabella Rossellini stars as a lounge singer in debt to Hopper and thus subjected to his violent whims. Maybe this is Lynch’s version of a Hardy Boys or Nancy Drew mystery — more vibrant in its first half while devolving into a shadowy masterwork in its second half. There’s no need to get into plot specifics here. It’s an interesting and well-told mystery but that is all window dressing to what Lynch is truly after.
In fact, Lynch dishes his thesis in the first few moments. We see scenes of idyllic small town life, full of vibrant color and playful music — white picket fence, flowers, birds, bustling life. Then it quickly gets muddy — both in a figurative and literal sense. As Jeffrey’s father is watering the lawn, the hose kinks and as he struggles, tragedy strikes. He falls unconscious on the ground as the hose goes wild. We see the image of a gun. The dog attacks the hose like a maniac. The camera then moves below the surface of the picturesque lawn — down in the muck we see ants eating and attacking. Nature can be visceral and violent and it all hides just beneath the calm surface. It is always there.
I love how Lynch’s worlds seem off and weird but the truth is that if we were to just stop and observe our own world around us, we would see that he’s never far off from reality. Another important aspect to Lynch’s work, especially here, is his impeccable ear. He is obsessed with sound and his films reflect this — they always sound natural. He continues down this path in the early half of the film as we begin to meet the players and the mystery deepens. Maclachlan and Dern have instant and perfect chemistry — they will become Lynch’s two most indelible co-conspirators as their respective careers blossom. Lynch also infuses the first half of the film with an intense color palette — almost begging us to believe that nothing bad can actually happen.
Then we go to the slow club.
The red curtains. A singer’s introduction. The blue light hits and everything changes. Looking back now, yeah, major Twin Peaks inspiration right here. We are woefully unprepared for the second half of this film. Lynch’s camera at first was observational but now we see it differently — it is voyeuristic. The quote at the top comes back to mind because it’s not just Sandy asking Jeffrey a question disguised as an observation, it is actually directed at us. What are we about? Where are we hoping this film will go? Are we comfortable with our desires? When Jeffrey gets caught in the apartment, a stunning reversal happens. His intrusion is immediately reciprocated. The violation is returned and both involved actually get off on it. It is bold and unflinching and the film is better for it.
We think we still have a handle on the film until Dennis Hopper shows up a few seconds later. He is electrifying and terrifying in equal measure — an all-timer on the film villain list. At the same time he is a stand-in for the dog in the film’s opening. He’s crazy and commands our intention but the real shit is happening beneath the surface. He is our usher into depravity. It’s here where we begin to realize a few things. First, Jeffrey is a boy becoming a man and this is his first glimpse into adulthood. He likes Sandy because she represents the purity of childhood that he still partly craves. But he also likes Dorothy because she represents the dangerous lust he’s beginning to crave as an adult. In return, Sandy likes Jeffrey because she has not yet crossed over into adulthood and Jeffrey represents her own usher. Dorothy, for her part, likes Jeffrey because he is the only thing in her life she has a bit of control over. The real premise begins to present itself: this is an anti-hero’s journey. Jeffrey selfishly wants it all but is unprepared at this stage in his life.
Once we make this connection, everything becomes clear. Lynch is telling a story about the passage from childhood to adulthood. The film is littered with scenes depicting the clash between these two stages of life. For example, Jeffrey’s journey begins with the hospital visit to see his father. This is the moment where his innocence is lost. Even before finding the ear, this is it. Children view their parents as seemingly invincible and their entire world changes when they get smacked with reality.
Lynch drags us further down the depravity well as we spend more time in the company of Hopper’s Frank Booth and cohorts. The Candy Colored Clowns scene is oddly chilling only to be outdone by itself a few moments later in a wicked reprise of the same song. Frank is pure depravity — the dark heart of man. Like I said, he is our usher. There is an animalistic nature to mankind and it hides beneath the surface of civilized society but it is always there, waiting.
But this being Lynch, there is still hope. Jeffrey prevails over the evil Frank Booth. There are two sides to man and those sides must be balanced with precision. Jeffrey taps into his vicious side but never succumbs to it. There can be no light without dark and vice versa. The robins return to the trees and bring love back with them. Love is greater than viciousness. Through all the darkness and flame, we come out the other side more understanding of the world. If violence is a part of nature, so is love and love can conquer all.
Next week, Wild At Heart. Until then, love each other.
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