James says:

Let me open this review with a disclaimer. I have not had much experience with David Lynch. With most filmmakers this would not have a large effect on the viewing of a film, but from what I’ve read, Lynch is a particularly impenetrable filmmaker, and perhaps some more exposure to his work would help bring light to what he does. As for myself, my only previous experience with David Lynch is a viewing of The Straight Story (the furthest thing from a traditional David Lynch film) as a young thirteen year old and a morbid curiosity that has led me to read synopsis and comments about his other movies. Based on what I’d read, I was somewhat prepared for the bizarreness of Wild at Heart, but that doesn’t mean I’d end up liking it.

Wild at Heart is the story of Sailor (Nicolas Cage) and Lula (Laura Dern), two lovers who run off together and at the behest of Lula’s overbearing mother, are chased down by numerous dangerous and bizarre people. As they “follow the yellow brick road” they’re journey becomes stranger and stranger as they run into more hazardous and ugly events, people, and surroundings. Wizard of Oz references are abound as Lynch tries to grasp at what it might be like for two people who feel they don’t fit into the world to search for something they can call home.

This is a world filled with absurd characters and damaged people. The characters often stray into the realm of heavy caricature, as they say exactly what they mean and don’t provide much depth. Cage’s Sailor repeatedly says his snakeskin jacket is a “symbol of [his] individuality and belief in personal freedom,” intentionally hitting us over the head with his motivations and beliefs. Dern’s Lula similarly repeats her crooning over Sailor. And everyone else in the film is essentially monstrous at heart and wacky on the outside, or as Lula puts it, “This whole world is wild at heart and weird on top.” Lulu’s mother at one point covers herself in lipstick, either showing her need to reveal her insides on the outside by making her skin red as the muscles within her, or perhaps she’s just plain crazy. These eccentricities might be explained by damaging events in the childhoods of the characters, but only Sailor and Lulu get any sort of significant flashbacks explaining why they might act the way they do (for Lulu, it’s a rape by a family friend nicknamed “Uncle Pooch”). Nicolas Cage and Laura Dern do serviceable, if extremely over the top acting, and everyone else (particularly Willem Dafoe) just does their darndest to act as weird as humanly possible. Where this film really suffers is in not having a single likable character, and being populated almost entirely by completely wretched people. There is nothing, and I mean nothing, to grasp onto.

All this is not to say there’s no value here. David Lynch has a deck full of storytelling techniques that no one else has, and he plays them in ways that throw you completely off guard and simultaneously make you feel exactly the emotions he’s trying to make you feel. He uses strange sounds, off-kilter music queues and odd cuts to give you the same sense of unease that Lulu starts to feel so strongly in the latter half of the film. Not to mention his equally strange imagery. David Lynch also employs interesting use of memory in this film, as we see flash backs as short as a second spliced into a scene, often spurred by a sound or sensory feedback from one of the characters. Certain events are treated with a Rashoman angle, being shown in different ways from multiple perspectives. Having this type of hazy truth within the first fifteen minutes of the film makes the viewer untrusting of the narrative, even though it stays pretty straightforward for the remainder. There’s also lots of sex in this film, some might classify it as gratuitous but it does serve the characters of Sailor and Lula by making them the passionate, wild, energetic counterparts to a world that seems to be trying to lock them down the same way they lock down their own emotions.

My reaction to this movie was disgust and unease, and I think that’s probably what David Lynch was going for. But it made for a barely enjoyable experience. I did get from it though a morbid curiosity, a sense of bewilderment that I so rarely get when watching a movie that I had to just go with the ride. David Lynch is clearly a brilliant filmmaker in his own way; I just have to wonder if even he can make any sense of what’s going on in most of his movies.

Benn says:

How does one describe David Lynch’s love story, Wild at Heart? If Tennessee Williams had done two handfuls of coke while reading Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet”, then went on to write his own version while The Wizard of Oz was blaring on the television in the next room, this is what you’d get. If this confuses you in any way, well… that’s David Lynch for you.

Wild at Heart is a Southern Gothic ballad about two young lovers and their erotic, high-octane journey through the South. Of course, plotlines and story have always been more like macguffins for a director like Lynch, who prefers surreal images and events to a linear storyline. Sometimes this works for the better, and other times it works out for the worse. This time, it works for the better.

Lynch’s tale of love, lust and the Confederacy begins with an opening shot of a raging fire, and manages to keep that unfocused, yet magnificent energy throughout most of the film. Soon after, we are introduced to young lovers Lula (Laura Dern) and Sailor (Nicholas Cage) who, while leaving an upscale party, are accosted by a man wielding a switchblade. Hardcore metal music begins to play while Sailor begins to literally bash the would-be assailants head into the wall, the stairs, and finally the floor.

This sums up the first half of the film, which finds Lula and Sailor leaving North Carolina, their troubles, and Lula’s hysterical mama (Diane Ladd) behind them to dance, fight and have sex, all of which are done to metal music and shots of fire that fade in and out. The film acts as a road trip through the South, with the terrible twosome coming across a number of surreal events and grotesque characters played by a variety of David Lynch regulars, such as Sherlynn Fenn, Isabella Rossellini and Jack Nance.

In typical Lynch fashion, the world Sailor and Lula are running from is as surreal and eerie as it gets. Lynch’s South is a bleak and sweaty hellhole that resembles a fever dream, and the quirks that populate this world only add to the irksome delirium. There are people, who bark, paint their faces with lipstick, and talk in high-pitch chipmunk voices for no apparent reason. There are even sadomasochistic assassins and a trio of obese naked women thrown in the mix to add to the eyebrow raising ambiance that Lynch has become known for.

Much of the film’s energy comes from the relationship between Sailor and Lula, which is about as erotic as it can get. The heat these two actors generate combats that of the hellfire that is the outside world, and for a while, that chemistry really keeps the film going in high gear. As with all fires though, this one also dies down eventually, and two leads eventually fall in line with the rest of Lynch’s characters. Dern in particular is kept on the back burner for the last act of the film, and is never really given a chance to shine on her own. Cage, on the other hand, revels in his wild, manic outbursts that give the film a bit of flare every now and then until the end. It’s an absolute treat to see Cage with such unstable, quirky energy; for the last ten years, Cage seems to be choosing roles that require him to act bland and flat. Wild at Heart shows us that, if you withhold Cage’s Ritalin for a scene or two, he can be very entertaining and spastically charismatic to watch. Hopefully, THIS Nicholas Cage will come back in the near future.

When the fires between the film’s stars die down, we at least get a few characters that keep the film weird and kinetic. Diane Ladd (who is Laura Dern’s mother in real life) is among one of the strangest characters in the film as Lula’s over protective, shrill mother who is intent on seeing Sailor dead. Most of her scenes involve her in a full Southern belle get-up, usually getting drunk and having a nervous breakdown. Then another. Then another. There’s not much dynamic to the character, but Lynch knows just when to use her, and Ladd plays the character with wild-eyed perfection every time.

Willem Dafoe gives one of the creepier performances of his career as Bobby Peru, a filthy, perverted scumbag with the brownest, nubbiest teeth you have ever seen. Sliming his way into the latter half of the film, Dafoe gives the film a breath of fresh air at a time where everything slows down. Granted, Dafoe’s character is as sleazy and rancid as it comes, but he does it so well that he keeps the movie going whereas it would have run out of gas entirely.

It was by no accident that Lynch injected a handful of references to The Wizard of Oz in this film; in many ways, Lynch’s world is like the mythical Land of Oz. There are kooky characters, evil witches, bizarre attraction, and answers for those who keep to the road. Granted, Lynch’s Oz is more of a surreal nightmare than what we’re used to, but its awe inspring nonetheless. As grotesque as the world can get, there is something pure and earnest in Sailor and Lula’s relationship, and even after their antics and eroticism smolders there is a solid foundation underneath that makes the world a little less frightening. Wild at Heart might be too weird or rambunctious for some to handle, but those who keep riding alongside Sailor and Lula, for better or worse, are in for a hell of a ride.

Benn’s rebuttal:

I agree, once again, with James’ observations concerning David Lynch’s surreal, uber-weird brand of imagery and story telling. I do, however, feel differently about the film. I typically despise shock for shock’s sake, but Lynch has a story to tell and throws in a number of things so extreme that I find them entertaining, if not down right funny.

The main theme here is passion and purity in the face of hell, and I think Lynch does a decent job portraying this. Granted, the passion between Sailor and Lula fades in and out while the extreme weirdness surrounding them prevails, but when that romantic, erotic fire burns, it makes a big impression. Bottom line, something that grabs your attention in such a matter can’t be ignored, no matter how much you’d like it to.

James’ rebuttal:

I feel Benn overrates Nicolas Cage’s performance a bit. His energy is certainly something to behold but he never brings any true depth or likability to Sailor. Dern on the other hand, perhaps through a bit of increased backstory, comes across as an understandable character. While Benn claims she dissapears in the back stretch I completely disagree, noticing that as we reached the third act our perspective really begins to align with her as she becomes afraid of the world that we’ve been marveling in fear at this whole time.

As for the movie as a whole, it may very well be “too rambunctious” for me to handle, but my attachment to a film depends very much on the writing, particularly plot and character. David Lynch really dispenses with both here and that’s what frustrates me so.

James says:

There are certain film creators from who’s style permeates their work so thoroughly, that you pretty much know what to expect from one of their films before you even press play. This is both good and bad in various instances. It can be good because, if you like their work, you’re pretty much guaranteed to get at least some enjoyment out of every one of their films. It’s a downside because even if you do like their work, there’s rarely anything fresh about an individual entry in their filmography. It’s also a downside because if you don’t like one of their films, it’s pretty unlikely you’ll like their others. John Woo is one of the many filmmakers who brings his style to each and every one of his films, and rarely deviates even on the content of his movies. The Killer is one of his better known movies made before his transition to the Hollywood system, and it certainly delivers on all of a knowledgeable viewers expectations for a John Woo film.

For those not aware, John Woo is best known in the states for Face/Off and Mission Impossible 2. The Killer is basically his take on a subgenre of films that was extremely popular during the 90’s, that of the hit man with a heart of gold. It stars Chow-Yun Fat as Ah Jong, an assassin who accidentally injures and blinds an innocent singer, and sparks a romance with her. Meanwhile a policeman, Inspector Li Ying hunts him down for his recent assassinations. The plot is every bit as cliché as it sounds, but at the time it had the advantage of preceding some of the most identifiable hit man stories, such as Leon the Professional. It takes advantage of a relatively proven formula (probably most utilized in Western films before it came to popularity in the form of the assassin genre), and because of this, it works well enough to get you through to the action scenes. Unfortunately, the action scenes are so much more energetic and entertaining that you find yourself bored with the pace when they aren’t happening.

This movie definitely has aged in a lot of ways, but the most glaring is the film’s score, which exemplifies the cheesiest of 80’s trends, and with its 1989 release, this aspect had to feel outdated even when the film was brand new. Even John Woo’s stylistic flairs aren’t as refined as you will see down the line when he has a bit more experience and larger budget. The acting, aside from Chow Yun Fat, who does a serviceable job, is pretty sub par. It’s not as bad as some other martial arts films, which always seem to get a bye in the acting category, but it still feels like a TV movie at times. But none of this is why you go to see a John Woo movie anyway.

You see John Woo films for ridiculous gun fights, slow motion action scenes, some awesome stylish composition, and doves. Seriously, lots of doves. In fact, John Woo must correctly have assumed that none of his newly found American viewers had seen his previous work when he made Face/Off, because The Killer features multiple scenes that involve lots of guns, lots of doves, and a church setting, all of which are utilized in the climax of Face/Off. But let’s face it, even when you’ve seen them before, these things are just so cool when you put them all together. John Woo’s characters have a habit of just pumping their enemies full of bullets without hesitation or checking to see if further bullets are necessary. It’s a horrible waste of bullets, and it’s the kind of thing that you look at and question, and then dismiss because it looks badass. Characters never run out of bullets either, despite the fact that they never seem to be carrying extra magazines on their person. No, magazines just appear from nowhere when they are needed. But scrounging around for bullets or keeping an armory in their suit would detract from the style and the pacing of the action scenes that works so well. So basically, when watching the film, you have to employ an active suspension of disbelief so that you can enjoy style over substance. And every now and then, this isn’t a bad thing. John Woo does action scenes incredibly, and they’re worth the trudge through the cheesy drama. In fact, he revolutionized action scenes for the next decade. The Matrix would likely not exist without his work, and certainly the lesser action films between these two points owe a great debt to what John Woo did.  If there’s one downside to the action scenes, it’s that a great many characters appear for the first time only to get shot moments later.  It’s hard to care about these characters, even so far as to be glad when they are shot, when you don’t even really know who they are.

While this is nowhere near his first, nor his greatest film, this is still a great insight into the development of John Woo’s style, and his sense of action. And let’s face it, if you want to turn your mind off for a while, and enjoy some cool fight scenes, you need look no further. Just keep in mind that that’s pretty much all you’ll get out of it.

Benn says:

The difficulty of watching films that had come out before I was of any reasonable age is that I don’t know what the cinematic expectations were prior to a film that ended up raising the bar for filmmaking. Granted, due to film history I know which films were revolutionary and which films upped the ante in terms of content or cinematography, but it’s difficult to really appreciate these films if you weren’t there to see these films when they were originally released.

John Woo’s 1989 crime drama The Killer is often said to have taken action sequences to the next level, going from simple point-and-shoot instances to rich, highly choreographed sequences that resembled a heavily armed ballet.

The Killer introduces us to two men who, despite being on opposite sides of the law, have more in common than one would think. The first, Jeffrey (Chow Yun-Fat) is a professional hit man with a strict code of honor, and shows an unusual amount of compassion for those not caught between his crosshairs. The other is Inspector Li (Danny Lee), a determined cop who is more interested in justice and punishing criminals than going along with the politics and bureaucracy of law enforcement. These two forces collide when Inspector Li starts investigating Jeffery’s latest hit, and Jeffrey is double crossed by his employer.

The action scenes are nothing short of spectacular. Each sequence is perfectly orchestrated, yet comes off so naturally that one could believe that Jeffery is performing all of these feats in the heat of the moment. Woo takes complete advantage of his setting and makes every corner, every window and every bit of furniture play a role in the action scenes. Throughout the film, Jeffery is catching guns in mid air, firing two guns at once, sliding across chairs, and pretty much doing everything but standing still whilst blasting holes in anything and everything.

It would be a cinematic crime to review The Killer without mentioning Woo’s grand finale, which takes the form of a massive shootout in a church. It is, without a doubt, on of the finest action scenes in history, and easily holds it own against films with a larger budget and CGI. Once Inspector Li and Jeffery team up to fend off the endless number of gangsters, the energy of this scene never stops; people jump through windows, blown clear across the church, chunks of walls are blown to kingdom come and a flock of doves encircle the ever-escalating chaos above. All in all, it’s an elegant, testosterone opera.

Violence, however, is not the only The Killer has going for it. It would be easy for this film to fall into the high-concept, feeble-minded cliché that are cop dramas, portraying Jeffery as the “ruthless killer” and Inspector Li as the “rogue, maverick cop” who’ll take ‘em down. Luckily, Woo added more depth into both of these characters, rather than rely on flat generalizations that we have all seen time and time again. Jeffery is portrayed as a peaceful man who spend most of his nights in a nearby church, and while on the job goes out of his way to make sure innocent bystanders do not get caught. On the other end of the spectrum is Inspector Li, who values justice above all else and, as he begins to study Jeffery, begins to respect this supposed criminal’s codes of honor and morals.

Oddly enough, what gives this film its greatest texture is how it deals with the theme of friendship amidst a violent surrounding. Kong Chu gives the film’s greatest performance as Jeremy’s longtime friend and contact Sidney. Chu could have played to part of the desperate, aging hit man as a pitiful simpleton, but instead portrays Sidney as a nostalgic old relic trying to act on the codes of days long past. The relationship between Li and Jeffery is as unusual as it is genuine, as two men who should be trying to kill each other find a number of similarities in the other’s character. Both men represent a dying breed that adheres to a code of justice and honor, and for their sins they are on the way out, so to speak. For as subtle as their connection is, Yun-Fat and Lee do a terrific job at making their fast friendship believable, as their characters become two against a very dangerous world, making the film’s final shootout so exciting on a cerebral level, as well as on a visual one.

The only weak element of the story lies with the young blind nightclub singer Jenny (Sally Yeh), whom Jeffery accidentally blinded in a botched assignment. Naturally, Jeffery seeks her out and tries to get her a cornea transplant to restore her sight… and it’s about as predictable as you could imagine. Jenny does little more than get teary-eyed, lean on Jeffery’s shoulders and scream whenever disaster occurs. Since she’s depicted as little more than a weepy little woman, her relationship with Jeffery seems too forced and, frankly, it takes away from the relationship between the two male leads, which actually adds something to the film.

As far as action films are concerned, The Killer stands out for it’s action scenes that are nothing short of brilliant, and one can plainly see the John Woo set the stage for other films of this genre for years to come. Though the plot is not without its clichés and faults, the performances of Yun-Fat, Lee, and Chu give the film a surprising amount of heart, which only makes the action that much more suspenseful and intense.

Benn’s rebuttal:

I will agree that The Killer resembles an Eighties TV movie, especially in the beginning.  However, I do think that once Jeffrey (aka Ah Jong) and Inspector Li get together, the acting and the story gets much better.

This movie most certainly laid the groundwork for the modern day action flick, but I found that The Killer is still amongst the best as far as shoot ‘em up scenes are concerned, despite it’s age.

James’ rebuttal:

Benn is really onto something with his comments on the friendship amongst violence.  It really is the thing that holds this film together emotionally, and makes it not just a series of awesome action films.

I also agree that John Woo really knows how to use the real estate of his sets, and keep things interesting and dynamic in the action scenes.  It’s not just guys pumping bullets into each other, it is, as Benn says, a brilliantly choreographed dance.