Cinema in Quarantine: Wild at Heart

Last week I got together with writer and filmmaker Cameron Cloutier (@bodian26) to watch and discuss David Lynch's Wild at Heart in a live stream video. Cameron is the director of Queen of Hearts, an intriguing Twin Peaks-inspired film that explores characters Caroline Earle and Annie Blackburn, and through all this we discovered that we both really favor Lynch's late 80s/early 90s period that includes Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks, and Wild at Heart.

My own personal experience of seeing this film for the first time was kind of interesting, at 15 I had to shut it off about halfway, but about a year later I muscled my way through the Big Tuna scenes and ended up really enjoying it. Unfortunately I was not able to see this in a theater, which would have been an entirely different, very visceral event (which Cameron describes). For anyone trying this for the first time, just know it's very violent, very sexual, and filled with jarring, intense moments that you just have to be able to go with. If you can make it through the conclusion of the Johnny Farragut situation about midway through the film, you'll probably be fine to the end. IMDB's official description uses the phrase "variety of weirdos" to summarize the film and the people in it, and while it's true, these people are weird and violence is at the root of the story, the film is a lot more than just that. For more on plot summary or character details you can read this review, also pretty informal, that I did ten years ago on this blog.

Sometimes when you watch a film you've seen multiple times, the experience can feel a little like you're just going through the motions or just serves as a setting where you can recite all the lines and feel comforted by the familiarity. Relaxing. Validating. This never really happens to me during Lynch films or Twin Peaks for two reasons.

1. Everything on the screen is so rich with detail---dialogs, composition, music, effects---there's almost always something each time I view that I notice for the first time. For instance, this time Cameron brought my attention to the music during the film's opening: its interesting shift from Badalementi's score to "In the Mood," to the aggressive guitars of Powermad during the first murder. Very disorienting but very fitting for introducing Sailor and Lula (while Marietta lurks in the background). Also Marietta's cute little pink bathroom with floral wallpaper. The furniture in the hotel lobby in New Orleans. And a random longhorn (we decided it may have been a light or decal with a florescent bulb along the underside) leaned up against one side of the bed at the motel in Big Tuna that was only there for one scene at night and then disappeared (!) Always something to see, hear, or think about.

2. The uncanny, somewhat incongruent elements (usually in the form of characters, but sometimes entire scenes or musical numbers) that pop up Lynch's work and speak to his brilliance and individuality as an auteur. I'm always on high alert when waiting for these situations, things like Marietta's mishandling of the lipstick, the woman sidestepping across the stage with her fingers flickering up by her cheeks at one of the New Orleans musical venues, the story of Jingle Dell, or the old men loitering around the hotel lobby where Johnny is supposed to meet Marietta (but has gone "buffalo hunting").

I've already said too much, but it was a fun couple hours reminiscing and hearing another fan's experience of it, too. Take a look, if you want to see/hear more, or better yet, turn on the film and watch along with us. Let me know in the comments what you think!

Books of Note

1. The O. Henry Awards Prize Stories, 2000.

Yeah, I'm pretty much not punctual when it comes to everything (year 2000 and all). There were twenty short stories in this volume; I liked them all. My two favorites were "He's At The Office" by Allan Gurganus and "Whileaway" by Jeannette Bertles. The first was about Alzheimers disease, the second about the aftermath of a divorce; both were brilliant and involved little bits of trickery by their characters. I'm kind of big on trickery, of course and furthermore, I think everyone should read short stories. Creating a contained world for a short piece and its events from start to finish is actually a lot harder than most people realize, but when done right? Amazing. The very last story was one by Raymond Carver ("Kindling"), whose style I really, really like a lot. Here's a bit:

"Then he put the pen down and held his head in his hands for a moment. Pretty soon he got up and undressed and turned off the light. After he'd gotten into bed he realized he'd left the window open. But he didn't get up. It was okay like that."

2. Roger Ebert's Book of Film, 1996.

This is a really respectable collection of writings on film, not film reviews, and is basically really valuable knowledge on the craft. Parts of it felt a little heavy to me, not because the essays or interviews weren't interesting (they all were) but because many of the subjects were film people (stars, directors, writers) from a completely different era and it kind of felt like reading a history novel after a while. Yeah, it's a generational thing, I suppose, but let's just say I put my time in with all that years ago, so I gave myself license to skip any parts that weren't blowing my skirt up. I'm sure Ebert won't mind. As a whole, though, I really liked this book, it made me giggle a lot, and many of the essays were really well done.

Libby Gelman-Waxner writes (on noir and David Lynch):

"I saw Wild at Heart at a brand-new multiplex in SoHo, where there is a cafe that serves French pastries and at least ten different bottled waters, and where at least one of the theaters is always showing a blasphemous foreign film that portrays Jesus as either a cabdriver or a teenage girl. Everyone in the audience had asymmetrical haircuts, glasses with thick black frames, and clunky, rubber-soled shoes. They looked like French opium addicts, but if you ask me, they were all probably assistants at public-relations firms uptown. All of these people loved Wild at Heart, and they all felt that David Lynch is a quirky visionary who deals in subconscious dream imagery, and after a while, I wished I was home watching a Golden Girls rerun. I have never been able to sit through a whole episode of Twin Peaks; it's a postmodern soap opera, which means that every time someone onscreen eats a piece of apple pie, you can hear a thousand grad students start typing their doctoral dissertations on "Twin Peaks: David Lynch and the Semiotics of Cobbler."
(SNORT! I mean, granted, I love Wild at Heart AND Twin Peaks, but I was in school together with an ocean of French Opium Addict-looking dudes, and trust me, that last statement is more valid that you'd think. . .  !)

And Bukowski (from Hollywood)

There was a small group with cassette recorders. Some flashbulbs went off. I didn't know who they were. They began asking questions.
"Do you think drinking should be glorified?"
"No more than anything else . . ."
"Isn't drinking a disease?"
"Breathing is a disease."
"Don't you find drunks obnoxious?"
"Yes, most of them are. So are most teetotalers."
"But who would be interested in the life of a drunk?"
"Another drunk."
"Do you consider heavy drinking to be socially acceptable?"
"In Beverly Hills, yes. On skid row, no."
"Have you 'gone Hollywood'?"
"I don't think so."
"Why did you write this movie?"
"When I write something I never think about why."

I think I'm going to have to get Barfly pretty soon.

Wild At Heart.

What's it about? IMDB says, "Young lovers Sailor and Lula run from the variety of weirdos that Lula's mom has hired to kill Sailor." I suppose I need to do a better job with actually giving legitimate descriptions of the things I rant about on here instead of just peppering some pseudo film or book review with my emotional blathering, so there you go. 


I learned a lot of things from this film.

1. Just how creepy David Lynch really is. I didn't ever watch Eraserhead or The Elephant Man or Blue Velvet until I was in school for film. This, for some reason, I saw because my mother's best friend from college brought it home, probably from Honzay's in Bird Island (we had a Beta); I think I would have been in tenth grade. Yes, this is a severly inappropriate film for a fifteen-year-old, but I don't even think my mother knew I was watching it. My brother might have even seen it too, I'm not sure, but he would have been twelve. Whoops.

The first time I made it almost until Johnny Farragut met his end and then couldn't take any more. This is to say, it was too disturbing for me *BEFORE* Bobby Peru came on. I remember being severely troubled by those old codgey dudes wandering around the hotel.
Or Marietta, covered completely in red lipstick and the damned elf shoes? It seemed to be one big cluster of weirdness, and honestly, I didn't understand one bit of it.


2. About a year later, I was talking to a friend about it and she said something like, "isn't that movie, like, full of sex or something?" Until then, honestly, I hadn't even processed that YES, it was, because of all the other creepy shit that was going on. Plus I never really found Nic Cage that hot (until years later) so I had no interest in it. So we rented it on a Friday night and watched it straight through--it's quite long, actually, and it was full of sex. This time, I watched it and thought, "Wow, she's really into him. And boy, they really are having sex in many different positions WITH THE LIGHTS ON! What's she gonna do if he, you know, leaves her?" Since getting dumped was the biggest concern any girl with no self esteem could have. . .

 And what do you know? She gets pregnant, he lies to her, robs a bank with Bobby Peru, goes to jail, and leaves her standing at a railroad crossing with his son, who he had never met. I was absolutely crushed, I remember it very clearly. But he comes back. And I bawled. A lot. And then I think Wendy and I took off somewhere and got into some weird situation with Keith Paananen standing on the side of the road, hitch-hiking, maybe?

Somehow, through all of the weirdness, it's still my favorite sick little love story. And Sailor Ripley, as a character? Best. Lines. Ever. Although that screaming through the song at The Hurricane has got to go. It's almost as bad as James Hurley singing in Twin Peaks.
"I'd like to apologize to you gentlemen for referring to you all as homosexuals. You taught me a valuable lesson in life. LULA!"

3. Let's talk about Bobby Peru. Seriously, has there ever been anyone this gross? I did an image search and of course, the only ones that came up were the ridiculous TEETH when he's making his disgusting little drooling, bad-guy laugh when he reveals to Sailor that he, Bobby, has outsmarted him ("those are dummies, DUMMY!") Apparently the fitting of the teeth was a big event on the set during the filming, with Lynch gleefully telling Dafoe, "Time for your teeth, Man!"

 Ugh. I seriously almost vomit every time I see those teeth. It's almost a relief when he blows his own head off. And the whole exchange with Lula in the bedroom when Sailor's away is just horrid. The stuff that he says to her? Downright terrifying. It's disturbing to me that I find the writing of this character so impressive when the character himself is probably *the grossest* thing, ever in a film. Some dude at Blockbuster tried to argue with me once that Hopper in Blue Velvet was a more disturbing villain, and because I never argue with anyone, I let him win that one, but I really don't agree. The nitrous mask made Hopper seem a little bit more monster-ish, maybe, but nothing can compete with those goddamned TEETH! And the way Peru is all snappy and reactionary about the Tonkin Incident? Definitely waaay more unstable, but sly enough to come wandering into Lula's hotel room and orate on puke, pregnancy, and jack rabbits? What a nightmare.

4. Diane Ladd should have won the statue in 1989.

What's your favorite Lynch?