It's strange how we resist writing about our most deeply favorite films, as if putting into words how we feel about them and the mysterious spell they cast over us will somehow demystify them for us, and ruin them. So I'll confine my comments, as much as possible, to the 10 / 40 / 70 marks and the surrounding frames of Blue Velvet (1986) which, other than the episodes he directed in season one of Twin Peaks (1990) and large chunks of Mulholland Drive (2001), is David Lynch's best work.
10: The ten-minute mark:
From one of the most atmospheric, compelling sequences in the film, as Jeffrey, home from college to visit his ailing father, walks his old neighborhood at night, on his way to Sandy's house. The large man with the tiny dog is classic Lynch: a bit of humor in an otherwise brutal film. A few moments after this moment, there is a beautiful tracking shot looking straight up at the underside of tree branches, illuminated by the street lights. It's the first film I remember seeing (other than De Palma's Dressed to Kill) where unmotivated shots become so important to the fabric and mood of the movie. The shot above, at ten minutes, is almost like a Master's oil painting, telling a moment of a larger story, of the menacing darkness of the small town, which contains more dirty evil than any of the philosophy books Jeffrey is probably reading at college.
40: At 40 minutes:
Another frame that looks like a painting or a photograph. Dorothy ("The Blue Lady") has just discovered Jeffrey ("The Bug Man") hiding in her closet and, of course, has ordered him out and forced him to strip at knife point. The knife bisecting the frame, ordering Jeffrey to stand up, which he does. The absolute reversal of Psycho and other slasher films. Dorothy as the director, who is in turn directed by Frank (Dennis Hopper). The film turns at this point, as Jeffrey is drawn into the Dark World. So are we.
70: Seventy minutes.
A frame I would not choose to write about, and yet 70 minutes compels me. This is a cutaway scene, just after Jeffrey, in Dorothy's apartment again, tells her "I should go." At that moment--and this is something I had not noticed before--she casts a look (unmotivated by the narrative action) to the side, which is followed, unexpectedly, by this shot, of the interior stairwell to her apartment building, as if she is looking (impossibly, magically) into that very stairwell. The music is subtle but Dark and Menacing here, deep-noted, and a few moments later Frank will appear in the hallway outside her door, and confront Jeffrey. There is something uncanny about this shot. Familiar and terrifying at the same time. A mundane stairwell, full of horror. This is the secret to the shot: it prepares us for the appearance of Frank, who wants to be a "neighbor" (a weird take on Mr. Rogers?) and who will assume a sinister bunny shape in Donnie Darko (2001).
The horror of Blue Velvet lies in these in between moments, that are almost forgotten but not really because they lodge themselves so deeply in our subconscious that when we try to separate them out we find we can't because, despite our best efforts at denial, they are part of who we are.
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