7/12/23
Newsletter #394
The Crack of Dawn
It was 1986, making it 9 years since David Lynch’s first film, Eraserhead, had opened. In the interim he had directed Elephant Man for Mel Brooks (of all people), and it was a critical and box office success. But it wasn’t really Lynch’s movie, although he had brought a lot to it. Four years slowly dribbled by, then Lynch directed Dino De Laurentiis’ gigantic bomb, Dune, which didn’t do his reputation the slightest bit of good. Now, not only was he a sell-out, but he wasn’t even a good sell-out. Except that he had sold out to get his own film, Blue Velvet, made. So, if Blue Velvet was bad, his career would, for the most part, be over.
Blue Velvet opened in Detroit with absolutely no fanfare, at a couple of theaters. I saw the film during the day, by myself, at a half-empty theater. Unlike any movie I’d ever seen before, the film immediately put me into a state of uncomfortable tension with a brilliant montage set to Bobby Vinton singing the title song, then miraculously kept me in that state of tension, that just kept increasing for the entire film, then he paid it off. I was in awe. When I left the theater, stepping out into the glaring sun, my neck was stiff and my head was splitting with an awful headache. And though I didn’t exactly understand the story, I knew that I had just seen a great work of art.
I went back and saw the film again the next day at the same afternoon show at the same theater, and came out with exactly the same splitting headache. But now I kind of understood what David Lynch was doing. Honest to God, I went back the next day and got the same goddamned headache, but I understood the film – or at least I thought I did – and understood how it was made.
For me, beyond all other considerations, like actors or subject matter or even style, is that it’s a low-budget movie – $6 million; the same as Evil Dead 2 – with a fast schedule, and all of the constrictions that one got shooting a movie for Dino De Laurentiis. The good fortune that befell both David Lynch and Sam Raimi was that at the same time Dino was shitting bricks and hemorrhaging money with his runaway disaster, King Kong Lives (1986), the long-awaited sequel to his masterpiece remake, King Kong (1976), which introduced the world to Jessica Lange. So, Dino paid no attention to either Blue Velvet or Evil Dead 2, and due to his lack of supervision, both films turned out well.
Anyway, the only way to pull off a good low-budget movie quickly is to have a good script and stick to it. David Lynch had been working on the script of Blue Velvet for years, and it really is an amazingly good script. And, as you will see, Lynch did not deviate from his script at all. I would have guessed that some of Dennis Hopper’s lines were improvised. No. Not a word.
The script has a blue cover. A rectangle of white paper with BLUE VELVET typed on it is taped to the cover. The title page has BLUE VELVET centered, but all the way to the left margin it says, “Original Screenplay by David Lynch,” then down in the left corner it says, “Revised Third Draft, August 24, 1984, Registered with WGAw,” then below that, “Property of: Dino De Laurentiis Corporation, 1 Gulf + Western Plaza, New York, NY 10023,” then below that is handwritten, “#27.”
The script itself is composed of two earlier drafts: one from 8/9/84 and 8/24/84, that are legitimately cut and taped together, then copied.
I’m not even going to try to encapsulate the story. But it isn’t until page 86 that Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan) finally meets Frank (Dennis Hopper). Lest anyone forget, Dennis Hopper is giving the best performance of his whole career.
I realize that there are a lot of expletives, which I’m not trying to say makes for good dialogue, but it does show that nobody was improvising.
[Substack fucks up proper, centered script spacing, so I’m improvising.]
INT. DOROTHY’S APATMENT – NIGHT
Later. Jeffrey is dressed and Dorothy (Isabella Rossellini) comes out of the bedroom in her robe. She is combing her hair. One or two lights are on now. She looks at Jeffrey and smiles, brushes some of his hair back from his face.
Dorothy: You’re my special friend, aren’t you? (Whispers) I have you inside me still . . . (Big smile) It helps me . . . I need you . . .
Jeffrey doesn’t know what to say. He starts walking toward the door with Dorothy beside him.
Jeffrey: (lying) I’ll call you.
Dorothy: Okay . . . soon? Do you think I’m too fat?
Jeffrey: What?
Dorothy: I’m getting a little bit fat . . . I hate that.
Jeffrey: You look beautiful to me.
She pats her hips
Dorothy: Right in here . . . fat, fat, fat.
Dorothy takes the chain off the door and opens it. The hall is empty. There is some noise on the stairs. Suddenly, Frank and TWO FRIENDS of his come into view on the stairway.
Jeffrey: (to Dorothy) Oh no.
Dorothy: (her eyes glaze over – she’s gone again) No . . . (calling out to Frank) Hi baby.
Frank: Who’s this fuck?
Dorothy: He’s a friend . . . from the neighborhood . . . we were just talking.
Frank: (to Jeffrey) From the neighborhood? (Slowly) Shut the fuck up . . . (to Jeffrey) You like telephones? Huh? You want to go for a ride?
Jeffrey: No thanks.
Frank: No thanks . . . What does that mean?
Jeffrey: (very carefully) I don’t want to go.
Frank: Go where?
Jeffrey: On a ride.
Frank: A ride? . . . Hell, that’s a good idea . . . okay, let’s go . . . Hey, let’s go!
Frank grabs Jeffrey and pulls him along.
Frank: (continuing; to Dorothy) Come on . . . We’re goin’ for a joy ride.
INT. STAIRWAY – APARTMENT BUILDING – NIGHT
Frank takes Jeffrey on a wide-eyed terror walk down the stairway.
INT. FRANK’S CAR/CITY STREETS – NIGHT
Frank and Dorothy are in the front seat. Jeffrey is sandwiched between two very dirty strange guys in back. Frank is driving very fast and very crazy. Sitting next to him on the front seat is a police radio which periodically blares out police reports. At the lights, when they turn green, Frank lays rubber.
Frank: Where you wanna go? I know! . . . We gotta see Ben . . . We gotta, right?
Paul (laughing) Yeah . . . We gotta see Ben . . .
[There’s a driving sequence with no dialogue.]
EXT. “BARBARY COAST” – NIGHT
Frank finally gets to where he’s going – a corner bar – and skids to a halt. They all pile out. Frank grabs Jeffrey.
Frank: Come on . . . I wancha to meet a frienda mine. Raymond, get enough beer for Ben too.
Raymond: Okay, Frank . . .
Frank: (to Jeffrey) What kinda beer do you like?
Jeffrey: (just says it) Heineken . . .
Frank: FUCK THAT SHIT . . . PABST BLUE RIBBON!!!
He grabs Jeffrey and pushes him into the bar.
[I cut a few travel scenes.]
INT. BEN’S HALLWAY – NIGHT
Frank bangs on a door at the first landing. Raymond joins him with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon Beer.
Frank: Hey Ben . . . OPEN UP . . . It’s Frank.
A tall, slender man with a smoking jack and a moustache opens the door. It BEN. His voice is very hoarse from years of smoking.
BEN: (very gracious) Frank . . . Come in.
Frank: Hey, I brought some friends . . . and some beer.
INT. BEN’S APARTMENT – NIGHT
The apartment is very large. All the furniture is over-stuffed. In the room there is a very much overweight WOMAN dressed in black and a greasy-looking COUPLE. On the couch, a YOUNG WOMAN plays with a large doll.
Frank: (getting higher all the time) Suave . . . goddam are you suave, you fucker . . . You want some beer?
Ben: (smiling) Certainly Frank . . . (to the fat woman) Darling, get some glasses. We’ll have some beer with Frank. Won’t you sit down.
Everyone kind of mills around. Paul sits down in a chair and starts laughing at some private joke in his head.
Frank: Shit Ben! How the shit are ya?
Ben: Fine, Frank . . . Fine. How are you?
Frank: Fuckin’ good, real fuckin’ good. You know this little tid bit, Dorothy, and this thing, here, (referring to Jeffrey) is a neighbor. What the shit we’re doin’ with a neighbor, I don’t know . . . goddam!!! (referring to Ben) This is the suavest guy I know . . . look at you . . . You’re one beautiful fucker, Ben. I love this jacket and that cigarette holder of yours . . . shit, that is too fuckin’ much . . . Where’s those glasses . . . this beer’s gonna get too warm . . . it makes me puke.
The dawn has arisen, and I’m a-weary of transcribing.
But it’s still fun to do.