Blue Velvet (now in revival at the Capitol)

[BLUE VELVET is now playing at the Capitol Theatre.]

 

Do I miss the old days. For lots of reasons, but mostly for when local college radio would play BLUE VELVET audio clips late at night, especially Dennis Hopper yelling in mad crescendo of lust and murderous, intoxicated rage. Because the internet is family friendly now (at least I think that’s one of the things President Trump is going to be working on), I will refrain from printing the R-rating dialogue verbatim. Just to paraphrase, he screams in bestial fashion, “Let’s MAKE LOVE!!! I’ll MAKE LOVE TO ANYTHING THAT MOVES, HAHAHAH!!!”

Folks don’t remember well today that BLUE VELVET, considered David Lynch’s masterpiece, came right on the heels of his humiliation flop with an adaptation of Frank Herbert’s DUNE, for which Lynch, though bringing some trademark peculiarities, just wasn’t the right guy for the job. But with BLUE VELVET he reunited with tainted DUNE star-discovery Kyle Maclachlan and producer Dino di Laurentiis and turned in what would become the very definition to “Lynchean.”

Joy

Review by Pamela Zoslov

Back in the '90s, I became addicted to home shopping TV channels. In hindsight it seems tacky, but as an over-thirty law student under crushing pressure, I found solace in the patter of the smooth, charismatic hosts hawking gold jewelry, fake diamonds (“Diamonique”), clothes and household gadgets, each piece of merchandise flattered by star-filtered lights and the caresses of the well-manicured presenters. I came to know the hosts and their stories — witty New York-bred Kathy Levine; Judy Crowell, briefly married to a rakish fellow host, who asked her for a divorce just before airtime; Lisa Mason, fashion-model gorgeous but charmingly self-effacing; David Venable, the handsome ex-news anchor whose Southern charm could coax the bark off a Magnolia tree.

Late Bloomers (now on video)

Review by Charles Cassady, Jr.

Beware what you wish for, you may get it... Okay, savvy readers will know by now that an opener like that can only mean two things. Either Charles is going to discuss his dismal romantic life, or he'll bemoan a rare motion picture actually made for grownups that still disappointed.

Since it's nowhere near Valentine's Day, you are all in luck, it's the latter. LATE BLOOMERS is a feature expressly meant for a viewing demographic older than 13- to 24 year-old male misogynists. Speaking of which, I just finally got around to eyeballing SEVEN PSYCHOPATHS, for example. Probably got a big thumbs-up from Maxim or FHM. Ugh, where is Alan Smithee now that we need him? And there's a lot more where that came from, often worse.

On the other hand, Un film de Julie Gavra, LATE BLOOMERS is a Belgian-UK co-production (filmed in English) about senior-citizen blues. No objection so far; there was an opening-nite movie at the Cleveland International Film Festival once, A FISH IN THE BATHTUB, with Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara, that was terrific. Alas, this one's just a fitfully engaging dramedy.