The purpose of this list is not to give a critical lambasting to what a great number of viewers consider to be cinematic treasures. What I would like to provide my readers with is an alternative and admittedly more critical perspective to consider, one that hopefully will not detract from a person's appreciation for the films under review. At the same time, I'd question whether these motion pictures really deserve the high accolades bestowed upon them by many in the critical community. Perhaps it's like this: instead of "The emperor has no clothes," I'm saying "He's not quite as well dressed." (For a further introduction on this subject please see: Top Ten “All that Glitters…”: The Overrated Part 1.)

These notices are meant for viewers familiar with the following motion pictures.

(They will be addressed in alphabetical order.)

Blue Velvet (1986, U.S.A.)

Director: David Lynch

Like Blade Runner (1982), the first film in this series, Blue Velvet has become a cult favourite. It's abstract, strange and highly regarded by some prominent film critics and historians such as Mark Cousins who praises the film in his 15 hour documentary The Story of Film: An Odyssey (2011). David Lynch certainly has a command of the medium and is the sole writer besides being the film's director. He made an auspicious feature debut with the striking and surrealistic Eraserhead (1977) and with both films his collaborators are clearly in service of his unique vision. Being an accomplished painter, he maintains a distinctive visual approach and begins Blue Velvet with confidence especially in the way he keeps directing our attention to the menacing undercurrents of an outwardly simple and peaceful small American town.

Blade Runner often symbolically refers to eyes. In Blue Velvet, the reference is ears by way of a severed one that begins its main character's descent into darkness. And it's depicting this darkness where the movie excels. Jeffrey Beaumont, played by Kyle MacLachlan (who's really a stand-in for the director), is discovered hiding in a closet belonging to the subject of his voyeurism, Dorothy Vallens, performed by Isabella Rossellini. Here, the actress is the personification of her mother Ingrid Bergman, particularly the latter's Ivy in 1941's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. The closet scene is revealing of deep and provocative emotions rarely explored in the arts. If that wasn't disturbing enough, a follow-up occurrence adds more perverse Freudian complexity by introducing us to one of evil's finest representatives: Frank Booth (devilishly portrayed by Dennis Hopper). Booth's a dynamo whose psychopathic insanity is so twisted, he seems to suffer the most excruciating emotional pain when he's experiencing pleasure! This is evident in the film's most electrifying scene where Booth and his gang visit his friend Ben (Dean Stockwell) in which the latter mimes Roy Orbison's song "In Dreams" with a lamp used as a faux microphone.

The Vallens and Booth characters are fascinating. Their relationship becomes beguiling as the story progresses and yet so much between them is left unexplained. Lynch has most clearly identified with MacLachlan's Beaumont character, a cipher who's as perplexingly "in the dark" as we are. Beyond the story's introduction, Jeffrey seems naive, vague as to his motives and full of behavioural contradictions: one minute objectively investigating the nefarious drug dealings of Booth and company, the next crying over his own participation and how horrible things are. One moment he tells everyone he's through taking part in this criminal underworld, the next he's at Vallens' apartment exploring a very dangerous situation for some unknown reason. His precarious relationship with Vallens seems justified in the beginning but its continuation isn't. He tells others how threatening Booth is but makes no effort to stay out of his way. What is he looking for? Why does he take such extreme risks? The character and therefore the audience are clueless. It appears Lynch has moulded himself into Jeffrey who prefers "to watch" rather than commit to following through with his ideas. This leaves the director unable to explain, let alone resolve, the emotional instability of his characters. When things get too intense, both Jeffrey and Lynch back off only to get just a wee bit back in when curiosity comes a callin'. The artist seems in over his head depicting events unclear regarding Jeffrey's later involvement, so our attention is diverted to scenes with Jeffrey's ethereal girlfriend Sandy (played by Laura Dern) that are so trite and insipid, they take banality to a whole new level. That, or the director just veers off into weird abstraction. * Either way the narrative stalls and the subject matter becomes a "hot potato." We are left as Jeffrey and Sandy are, naively wondering "Why are there people like Frank?" and "Why is there so much trouble in this world?" I, for one, was hoping to get some kind of answer.

If Lynch's intention was to depict a struggle of good vs. evil, he should have taken a page out of one of its best cinematic treatments namely The Night of the Hunter (1955). In this earlier film, the terrifying evil of Robert Mitchum's preacher Harry Powell meets his match in his nemesis: Lillian Gish as Rachael Cooper, a formidable protector of innocents. In Blue Velvet, Booth's evil has no visible opposition. Only at the very end does Jeffrey muster the resources to stop Frank but by then it’s a matter of coincidental luck. Other than that, there's some vague, wishful dream about robins coming... a very intangible and unsatisfying conclusion to the story.

* The surrealism compliments and adds ambience to the director’s Eraserhead because the entire narrative is presented in such an unsettling, mysterious and dream-like manner. These same effects look out of place in Blue Velvet because of the central character’s unassuming, straightforward, albeit naive, nature as well as seeing the events unfold from his perspective.

A.G.

Next time: Top Ten “All that Glitters…” #3 Casablanca (believe it or not)