Wild at Heart

So, yeah, it's true that the much-maligned Nic Cage has never been a good actor. Ever. He has come very close to being able to act on a few occasions, notably in Leaving Las Vegas (1995), Bringing Out the Dead (1999), and Adaptation (2002). But 3 out of, let's see, according to IMDB, 62 film performances is not a very good success ratio. Nonetheless, I don't hate him as much as many others. To his credit, he's starred in a number of films that, while not necessarily Oscar-caliber, are fun and quite enjoyable. To wit: Face/Off (1997), The Rock (1996), Con Air (1997). I must confess my great sin of never having seen the Coen Brothers' Raising Arizona (1988), so I can't speak to that one. But here's the undeniable truth: Cage's performance as an Elvis-esque manslaughtering parole-violator in David Lynch's Wild at Heart (1990) is one of the most atrocious things ever committed to film.

His lines are delivered either hurriedly, with absolutely no feeling, like he's reading it off a cue card. Or he swings the other the way and goes so over the top that you'd think he was gunning for a spot on "All My Children". And yeah, I realize that sort of soap-opera pastiche is part of Lynch's style, but come on, Nic, at least be consistently over-the-top. In fact, one of the film's major weaknesses is that its two leads often get overwhelmed (and out-acted) by the supporting ensemble cast, which includes a number of Lynch favorites: Isabella Rossellini, Grace Zabriski, Sherilyn Fenn, and Harry Dean Stanton, among others. The centerpiece of the supporting cast is Willem Dafoe as the nauseatingly skeazy John Waters lookalike Bobby Peru. Dafoe, as always, does not disappoint, and completely steals the entire movie even though he has only a few minutes of screentime.

Wild at Heart follows Lula (Laura Dern) and Sailor (Cage), a pair of star-crossed lovers on the run from Lula's momma (Diane Ladd, Laura Dern's actual mother). Lula's momma, owner of the interesting name of Marietta Fortune, is one well-connected woman. In her fury at Sailor over taking her little girl away (and once upon a time rebuffing her own sexual advances in a public toilet), she sends a veritable army on the lovers' trail towards the Big Easy. First up is private investigator and Marietta's sometime boyfriend Johnnie Farragut (Stanton). Poor schlepy Farragut has no idea what kind of monster Marietta is, or that he's not the only chip she's called in on her hunt for Sailor and Lula. Also on the case is mobster Marcelles Santos, who enlists a whole slew of crazy characters: a cajun voodoo priestess (Zabriski), the proprietor of an S&M bordello, and the snake-in-the-grass ex-marine Bobby Peru. Lula and Sailor's mad sex-and-thrash-metal-fueled dash out to California is cut short when a serious lack of funds strands them in Big Tuna, a god-forsaken West Texas shithole of a town. And in Big Tuna, Bobby Peru makes Sailor an offer he can't refuse. Although he'll wish he had.

In Wild at Heart, David Lynch makes several amateur filmmaking mistakes. First off, he lets his desire for certain oddball acting pairs get in the way of making truly informed casting decisions. Cage and Dern are repeatedly upstaged by minor players. Cage's atrocious southern accent and hokey Elvis impersonations get real old real fast, and as far as I can tell, Dern's only qualification for this film is a willingness to get naked a lot. Nice body, but I could do without the face. And don't even get me started on the numerous and frankly nauseating sex scenes.

Secondly, Lynch is just throwing way too many characters out there. A few of them are completely superfluous. Johnnie Farragut is a complete waste of Harry Dean Stanton's considerable talents. Other throw-away characters include Zabriski's voodoo lady, Sherilyn Fenn's doomed car-crash victim, and the dog-obsessed OO Spool (the late great Jack Nance).

Lastly, and this is the biggest transgression, Lynch wields his Wizard of Oz symbolism like a sledgehammer, repeatedly smashing the audience in the face with similarities that are tenuous, contrived, or both. See, Marietta is supposed to be the Wicked Witch of the West, and Lula is Dorothy, and Sailor is.... um.... the Scarecrow, maybe? The point is, the only way the audience recognizes these "similarities" is because Lynch literally verbalizes the comparison through dialogue. Which is more believable, a connection that I recognize on my own or one that is literally thrown in my face with a hand-wrapped explanation? Sorry Lynch, I'm just not buying it. Go peddle your phony symbolism somewhere else.

The bottom line is, Wild at Heart is the most tepid Lynch movie I've seen. Mullholland Drive was confusing as shit, but at least it had decent acting.

Storyline & plot: 4/10
Cinematography & effects: 7/10
Music & mood: 6/10
Performances: 4/10

The Reverend says: 5/10