On September 19th, 2016, David Lynch’s Blue Velvet celebrates its 30th anniversary of premiering in the United States. Blue Velvet revolves around the very Lynchian preoccupation with debunking the American Dream. The 1986 film breaks down Reagan’s conservative America, which was based on 50s values. This is manifested through time-period ambiguous costume design and a suburban setting. The underbelly of a seemingly perfect town is revealed, and the nuclear family is exchanged for an Oedipal one, with Frank Booth as the hated father, Dorothy Vallens as the desired mother, and Jeffrey Beaumont as the disturbed son. When revisiting this film in the 21st century, the most relevant societal criticism has changed. In a contemporary context, one of the most interesting aspects of Blue Velvet is the way it represents the dichotomy of exhibitionism and voyeurism. Voyeurs do not simply observe and exhibitors are not objects disconnected from the actual world, and the film demonstrates this relationship with complexity, allowing for an accurate analysis of our media dominated world.
At the beginning of the film, Jeffrey Beaumont discovers a severed ear and delivers it to Detective Williams. Detective Williams’ daughter Sandy tells Jeffrey, somewhat ironically, that she has “Heard a few things about the ear.” This auditory voyeurism begins Jeffrey’s journey to uncover mystery. Sandy shares that a woman named Dorothy Vallens has something to do with the ear. Jeffrey and Sandy continue their investigation by watching Dorothy Vallens perform at the Slow Club. While watching her, Sandy is made uncomfortable by the sensual performance and Jeffrey is transfixed. Their straightforward, simplistic response to Dorothy is akin to gawking at animals at the zoo. To learn more about the mysterious creature, they devise a plan to break into her home, but Jeffrey is forced to hide in her closet when she arrives back earlier than anticipated. He watches Dorothy for a few moments, but eventually she senses his presence. She threatens to kill him, then follows with sexual advances. This begins the relationship that causes Jeffrey to become an active part of Dorothy’s life and the unfolding drama. In becoming just as involved as Dorothy, his exhibitionist counterpart, Jeffrey learns first-hand that the passive voyeur cannot exist.
With an overwhelming amount of television channels and platforms like YouTube, we have the opportunity to be a viewer of anything at any moment. This viewership is a transaction; we can use social media to announce our opinions and ask questions, or even comment our responses directly on the video. Even when we feign passive viewership, we stay connected by being accounted for in ratings. At the start of the film, Jeffrey’s mother is shown watching television. The wife of the Beaumont nuclear family stares fixated as a hand accompanied by a gun slowly travels through a room. The shot seems foretelling to the film’s climax, but it is also an odd choice for the wholesome Mrs. Beaumont. Her selection demands attention, as the frame features only the television and lingers. Later in the film, Jeffrey’s mother and aunt watch identity-less feet traveling on a staircase to an unknown location. The camera remains on only the television, surrounded by dim lighting dedicating itself to the television’s images, yet again. Jeffrey is shown walking down his home’s stairs right before shots of the television, creating a parallel. In fact, the viewer of Blue Velvet becomes very acquainted with staircases as Dorothy’s apartment’s elevator is broken throughout the film. Guns, staircases leading to temptation, and other ominous images end up within the homes of seemingly uninvolved participants, reminding viewers again that voyeurs have an inescapable role within the unfolding drama.
What exhibitors show guides the conversation of voyeurs. Similarly, our response as voyeurs influence what exhibitors decide to show. In this world of voyeurs and exhibitors, every person brings forth something echoing their own distinct ethics. This creates an opposition amongst voyeurs—those who make the active choice to ignore what they consume and those who decide to act on it. There are voyeurs like Jeffrey’s mom and aunt who view evil from a couch, feeling disconnected while simultaneously enabling it. Conversely, there are people like Sandy and Jeffrey who feel compelled to uncover the evil and, possibly naively, attempt to fix it. This is the difference between the people who see news tragedies and say, “What a shame,” and those who decide to do something about it. It is impossible to discuss this concept in 2016 without acknowledging the rise of citizen footage chronicling terrible acts, like police brutality. These videos are inescapable, and all who participate in society are inherently involved. Still, only the Jeffreys and Sandys of the world attempt to take a stand and join things like movements against police brutality. Blue Velvet teaches us ignoring evil will not make it go away and the only way to truly stay neutral is ignorance.
The two extremes of voyeurism are not a binary; they exist on a spectrum. Some people hear evil, acknowledge it, maybe share a Facebook post about it, but they never actually make a difference. When Jeffrey relays his plan to find out more about Dorothy Vallens, Sandy responds with, “I mean, it sounds like a good day dream, but actually doing it is too weird. It’s too dangerous.” Sandy loves talking about the mystery, but thinks involvement is unrealistic. Jeffrey demands that she at least hear the plan, sequentially convincing her to participate. This moves Sandy across the spectrum and out of a voyeuristic purgatory. Ignorance is heaven, knowledge without action is purgatory, and productive attempts are hell. Jeffrey found justice, but had the most disturbing experience of his young life to find it. After Frank is finally defeated, in a sequence that I would consider the film’s epilogue, the mood is transformed. Bright colors are shown, angelic music is being played, and most characters are wearing white. The viewer feels like he or she is in Jeffrey’s heaven. The traumatic experience has discouraged his voyeurism, and Jeffrey has become blissfully ignorant.
This sequence starts with a close-up on Jeffrey’s ear, a shot reminiscent of the severed ear that started everything. The camera zooms out to reveal Jeffrey’s eyes and lips, all calmly existing in this utopian dream. Jeffrey is in a place where his ears cannot hear evil, his eyes cannot see it, and his mouth cannot gossip about it. This is the only way to access the perceived perfect world. Dorothy’s final shot seems positive on the surface, as she is reunited with her son, but it is still sorrowful. Dorothy’s rendition of Bobby Vinton’s “Blue Velvet” is played in the background. “And I still can see blue velvet through my tears,” her emotional voice declares, and we believe this to be true. Dorothy, the natural exhibitionist of the story, cannot escape the darkness of the world as easily as Jeffery because she is a part of it. Once again, the evil of the world is lasting. Jeffrey could only cease involvement by closing his eyes. To do this in the real world, someone privileged would choose to exist off the grid without connection to society. For the Dorothys of the world, the objects of desire in sensationalism, escaping is not an option.
Blue Velvet connects the gap in the mutually-reliant relationship between exhibitionism and voyeurism. It reminds us that voyeurism is unavoidable through mere existence. The film complicates the relationship further by creating layers within it. For one, we are literally watching a film. Subtler than the idea that voyeurism is impossible to prevent, the film argues that exhibitionism is also inevitable. Jeffrey and Sandy are shown gossiping about the drama of Dorothy, but we hear this from a distance and view it through branches. While they discuss the things they have watched, they are being watched. Human nature combined with the non-linear web of technology and information makes one’s paranoid fears of being observed a reality. This equalizer further destroys the concept of the passive voyeur. In the 80s, Blue Velvet ruined the American Dream. In the 2010s, Blue Velvet ruins anonymity.
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