The wizard of weird David Lynch paves a violent yellow-brick road.
An extreme close-up of a match head bursting into flames engulfs
the screen-and scorches the retina. The image, which opens Wild
at Heart, is a Zorro-like signature from America's hottest director.
With his new movie, David Lynch reaffirms his reputation as American
cinema's arsonist-in-residence. A romantic melodrama pushed into
comic overdrive, Wild at Heart is a movie of shocking violence,
extravagant sex and perverse humor. Freely plundering imagery
from The Wizard of Oz and attitude from Elvis Presley, Wild at
Heart offers a joyride on a yellow-brick road puddled with blood.
Horrifically beautiful, it combines the visceral terror of Lynch's
1986 hit movie, Blue Velvet, with the slow-tease surrealism of
his acclaimed television series, Twin Peaks. The result is an
amoral work of deadpan exhibitionism, as unnerving as a strip-o-gram
valentine. What it all means is anyone's guess, but Wild at Heart
is wickedly entertaining.
Whether Lynch has made a profound artistic statement or an elaborate hoax, Wild at Heart demonstrates his
exceptional talent for getting attention. Beneath the calculated
weirdness of the director's work lies a flamboyant streak of showmanship.
He seems to delight in pushing poetic licence to the limit. While
the answer to the question "Who killed Laura Palmer?"
dangles like a year-old election promise, Twin Peaks enters its
second season this fall as the most talked-about soap since Dallas.
With Wild at Heart, which won the grand prize at last May's Cannes
Film Festival, Lynch again tests the limits of public tolerance.
Initially threatened with an X rating in the United States, the
movie has fanned the flames of the current debate over censorship
in the arts. And the riddle of whether Wild at Heart is high art
or shameless obscenity is central to a movie that suggests the
two can coexist.
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