The film, finally, is funny, scary and brilliantly cinematic. Was planning on closing my night here after a funky Berlin pub crawl, at first, loved the aesthetic of this bar. Even more than a virtuoso shoot-out, two scenes - Stanton tortured by a gang of grotesques, a truly nasty car crash - exemplify Lynch's ability to disturb through carefully contrived atmosphere while the performances lend a consistency of tone lacking in the narrative (but ever-present in Fred Elmes' fine camerawork). But it's churlish to focus on flaws when so much is exhilaratingly unsettling.
This déjà vu weakens the film sometimes the weirdness seems so forced that Lynch appears merely to be giving fans what they expect. As petty criminal Sailor (Cage) and his lover Lula (Dern) go on the run through a murderous Deep South, fleeing but meeting sleazy oddballs hired by Lula's mom (Ladd) to end their relationship, Lynch evokes a surreal, sinister world a mite too reminiscent of his earlier work: bloody murder, violent sexual passion, kooky kitsch, freaky characters immersed in private fantasies, digressive metaphors, symbols and cultish references, and bizarre humour to lighten the nightmare.
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