Blue Velvet

Blue Velvet ★★★★½

Like a candle in a dim room, the flickering light staves off the edges of darkness in the corners.

"I don't know if you're a detective or a pervert."

In Blue Velvet, the nightmarish, drug-like midnight spiral is the result of when the world forgets its candle. It's both a frightening and alluring experience that locked me into my seat and threw me into the surreal story. In the immaculate vibes of the dark hours and the solemn nightclub is a story distinctly Lynchian in its unflinching brutality, and even more so in its melodramatic emotional soul. It's an erotic dreamscape, a haunting sadomasochistic 'joy-ride', a noir-tinged soap opera, and a claustrophobic pressure chamber that feels like it would explode with just a whisper. A contradictory but (weirdly) cohesive diamond of intense, cerebral cinema.

"Let’s f*ck! I’ll f*ck anything that moves!"

It has an oddly comforting suburban setting, almost too pristine in daylight. And in it, we find the struggle of the soul between love and the dark underbelly of that suburbia, or even the world at large. That darkness might just be locked away inside of all of us, peaking its head out at our worst moments. But deeper than that, the film taps into the strange urge to poke the dragon in the cave. In any case, I'd be willing to go down the rabbit hole again if the opportunity ever presents itself.

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