Rescreening the film now, for the first time in nearly two decades, I'm struck that Wild at Heart remains Lynch's least interesting film, the project most snared in the auteur's transition from Hollywood trope as metaphor ( Blue Velvet, Twin Peaks) to Hollywood trope as conceptual device ( Mulholland Dr., Inland Empire). But if Blue Velvet was Lulu's first experience with Lynchian love, Wild at Heart was certainly its complement: my first experience truly loathing Lynch. Moreover, and more than most contemporary directors, I've always really "connected" with Lynch's reverence for actors - as mysterious, possibly mystical beings - as well as his fascination with (extra)ordinary faces, voices and bodies. Twenty years ago, Lynch's Blue Velvet and Fassbinder's Querelle were the first films I truly thought/fought about as passionately about as I did literature or theatre. To say that StinkyLulu has a love/loathe relationship with David Lynch would be simplifying things.
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