Raped at thirteen by her father’s business partner, Lula has a monster mother, Marietta (Diane Ladd), who arranged to have Lula’s father killed in a fire. They’re just two sweet, horny kids, except for their Lynch-load of psychological baggage. “You really are dangerously cute, Peanut,” he tells Lula as she paints her toenails red before doing the same to the town.
Between the sex and the chain-smoking, these two seem in danger of burning themselves down. “Jeez Louise, Sailor,” says Lula after one of their marathon sex bouts, “you are something else.” Sailor is equally besotted. The story, which begins in North Carolina, revolves around the love of Sailor Ripley (Nicolas Cage) and Lula Pace Fortune (Laura Dern).
He’s a cockeyed pessimist, both appalled and thrilled by the dark secrets he uncovers. Lynch, the man who shook TV by exposing the pits of cherry-pie America in Twin Peaks, revels in finding the logic in the random, the beauty in the broken. Though lacking the organic clarity of Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart is a breathtaking display of movie magic that steadily tightens its hypnotic hold. Lynch dramatically alters the characters, adds liberally from his own wickedly demented imagination, pumps up the violence and erotica, throws in a Toto look-alike, a good and a bad witch and the ruby slippers from The Wizard of Oz and then watches the sparks fly. Starting with the outrageous and building from there, he ignites a slight love-on-the-run novel, creating a bonfire of a movie that confirms his reputation as the most exciting and innovative filmmaker of his generation.Īll that’s left of the book is a chunk of pungent dialogue. In adapting Barry Gifford’s book Wild at Heart for the screen, Lynch does more than tinker. Lynch’s kinky fairy tale is a triumph of startling images and comic invention. Imagine The Wizard Of Oz with an oversexed witch, gun-toting Munchkins and love ballads from Elvis Presley, and you’ll get some idea of this erotic hellzapoppin from writer-director David Lynch.
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