Jeffrey: "See that clock on the wall? In five minutes, you are not going to believe what I just told you."
American film, released in 1986. Written and directed by David Lynch, with cinematography by Frederick Elmes and original music by Angelo Badalamenti (and some extra music composed by Lynch himself). It starred Kyle MacLachlan as Jeffrey Beaumont, Isabella Rossellini as Dorothy Vallens, Dennis Hopper as Frank Booth, Laura Dern as Sandy Williams, Dean Stockwell as Ben, Brad Dourif as Raymond, Jack Nance as Paul, composer Badalamenti as a piano player, and a bunch of other fine folks who are mad enough to work with David Lynch on a regular basis.
Frank: "You wanna go for a ride?"
Jeffrey: "No thanks."
Frank: "No thanks? What does that mean?"
Jeffrey: "I don't want to go."
Frank: "Go where?"
Jeffrey: "On a ride."
Frank: "A ride? Hell, that's a good idea. Okay, let's go."
Basic plot: Jeffrey is an innocent little lamb with a crush on Sandy, the girl next door, in a wholesome small town. Then Jeffrey finds someone's severed ear lying in a field. Unhappy with the pace of the police investigation, Jeffrey starts snooping around on his own. Then he meets beautiful but somewhat crazed lounge singer Dorothy Vallens. Then he meets evil motherfucker Frank Booth. Hijinx ensue.
Raymond: "Do you want me to pour it, Frank?"
Frank: "No, I want you to fuck it. Shit, yes, pour the fuckin' beer."
This is a good movie. You should definitely watch this movie. You should watch it now. Are you at work? Fuck work. Go up to your boss and tell him, "I'm going home so I can watch 'Blue Velvet.'" If he's seen the movie, he'll let you go. If he hasn't seen the movie and tries to give you shit about it, you are within your legal rights to tie him to a chair and set the fucker on fire. Yeah, motherfucker, it's that goddamn good.
Frank Booth: "I'll fuck anything that moooooves!"
Oh, you want more than just a garden-variety recommendation? Jesus, you're one pushy motherfucker. Fine, let's just call this my favorite of David Lynch's movies. Is it film noir? Horror? Black comedy? Fuck if I know. It's a weird, weird flick, from the giant picture of Montgomery Clift adorning Sandy's bedroom to Jeffrey's discovery of that disembodied ear to a mincing Dean Stockwell lip-synching Roy Orbison's "In Dreams" into a work light. A massively bizarre film, and it makes you want to watch it again and again.
Frank: "What kind of beer you drink, neighbor?"
Jeffrey: "Heineken."
Frank: "Heineken? Fuck that shit! Pabst Blue Ribbon!"
A movie like this is going to live or die on its actors, and this one pulls up a trio of great performances. First, there's MacLachlan, so earnest and trusting and innocent as Jeffrey. We see the whole story through his eyes, and though he comes across as a smart kid, we're constantly amazed by how utterly naive he really is, always saying the wrong thing, never getting out when he has a chance, sliding farther and farther down that slippery slope into the corruption that festers beneath his small-town existence. Rossellini as Dorothy also turns in a brilliant performance, beautiful, exotic, seductive, but also dangerous, teetering on the brink of insanity, and hopelessly, hopelessly lost. She flickers from victim to whore, from femme fatale to Helen of Troy. She's as smooth and sexy as blue velvet itself, and she's also as vulnerable as a torn dress on prom night.
Frank: "I'll send you a love letter! Straight from my heart, fucker! You know what a love letter is? It's a bullet from a fucking gun, fucker! You receive a love letter from me, you're fucked forever! You understand, fuck? I'll send you straight to hell, fucker!"
But this movie belongs to Dennis Hopper. Frank Booth is an evil, sadistic, foul-mouthed, gas-huffing motherfucker, and Hopper makes you believe it was all his idea in the first place. He exudes pure menace in every scene he appears in, whether he's bullying Jeffrey or bleating to his "mommy." Frank is so relentless and frightening, you never know if he's going to stab someone on screen or just crawl out of your TV and beat you to death with the DVD player. At the same time, he's also a bit funny, what with the unending stream of ridiculous profanity and his fondness for sucking on nitrous oxide. But it's like laughing at a werewolf in a clown suit. Yeah, it looks goofy, but it's still going to tear your fucking throat out and eat your goddamn eyes -- and ain't that something to giggle over? I really don't know that there has ever been a more terrifying portrayal of evil on the big screen. Dracula? Bah. Darth Vader? An amateur. Snow White's evil queen? A schoolgirl. For pure unadulterated wickedness, Frank has 'em all beat. Hopper won an Academy Award that year for his more friendly role in "Hoosiers," but everyone knew (and Hopper himself acknowledged it in his acceptance speech) that the Oscar was really for his work as Frank Booth.
Ben: "Here's to your health, Frank."
Frank: "Don't drink to my health, drink to my fuck!"
I bet you're wanting some fun trivia, too, ain'tcha, you fuckin' fuck. The roles of Jeffrey and Sandy were first offered to Val Kilmer and Molly Ringwald. Kilmer said he thought the script was pornographic, and Ringwald's mom nixed her appearing in the film. And Robert Loggia wanted to play Frank, but got passed over for Hopper. Also, Lynch and Hopper originally planned on having Frank inhale helium instead of nitrous. Oh, and the first draft of the film was four hours long. Lynch cut it down to exactly one frame under two hours. And no one has ever found the extra two hours of footage that didn't get used. No one knows what happened to it. Lost forever, goddammit.
Frank: "Let's hit the fuckin' road!"
Some research from the fucking Internet Movie Database (www.imdb.com). I can hear your fucking radio, you stupid shit!