I recently purchased a suede leather jacket from a vintage shop. She’s a deep orange-tan shade with stylish braided details around the seams—I’ve guesstimated it’s from around the early ’70s. The moment I tried her on I found myself. To me, she “represents a symbol of my individuality and belief in personal freedom,” as Sailor would astutely put it in David Lynch’s 1990 film, Wild at Heart, although his jacket is snakeskin and far more elegant.
We open with shocking violence at the hands of Sailor (Nicolas Cage). He pops a cigarette between his lips as he calms, sweat beaded across his forehead; this will land him 22 months in prison. Sailor may be trouble, but his young, hot, and lustful Lula (Laura Dern) adores every ounce. After serving his time, he’s released back into dear Lula’s loving arms—and legs. As to escape the grip of her ultra-wicked mother of the East, the two sweethearts ride away in a 1965 Thunderbird convertible, onto the open yellow-brick road headed West.
It’s integral to understand their motive: true love. Sailor declares it fiercely in song—“Love Me,” which pauses an unruly metal show to be performed. High-pitched screams rejoice and layer themselves in awe of his dreamy Elvis-esque vocals. Mine, one of them. Passing state lines, the highway exits act as idyllic resorts for lovemaking, dancing, and affirming autonomy. Finding safety in the micro-town of Big Tuna, they settle for a couple of days of deserved rest. The local seedy motel has a room open to house them for a few days. There they can screw and set up new footings. Their dreams of the “simple life” are hopeful, although unrealistic. Trailing closely behind the two are myriad frightening oddball hitmen ordered by Lula’s spiralling Mama, covered in bright red lipstick and malevolence.
Wild at Heart is not short of any other nightmarish Lynch familiarity. He delivers a lurid road movie for dedicated fans of The Wizard of Oz, freaks, and sex. Recurring pastiches to the Hollywood classic—red ruby slippers, crystal ball, piercing wicked laughter—solidify the Technicolor dreamscape the lovers travel. The fantasy is plastered in front of his anamorphic lens and harshly energetic performances. Diane Ladd, Grace Zabriskie, Willem Dafoe, and Harry Dean Stanton deliver the film’s absurdist black comedy effortlessly and entirely. It would seem the southern border is an undesigned residence for the criminally insane.
At the end of the road, now lying cold against the ground, Sailor is visited by a celestial woman appearing within a large bubble, dressed in the traditional sparkly garments of Glenda. With grace, she proclaims the scripture, “If you’re truly wild at heart, you’ll fight for your dreams.” And so as inspired, Sailor sits up. He gathers his bearings and runs forth toward the woman over his very own rainbow. It may not be theirs to decide but Emerald City is “wild at heart and weird on top.”
3.5/5