The scene I found hardest to watch in Wild at Heart sees Bobby Peru (Willem Dafoe) taunt Lula. Together they douse her in water until she melts into nothing. It’s a necessary apotheosis – the Good Witch come to chase away the Wicked Witch of the West who frequently appears onscreen in the place of the violent acts committed against Lula. Perhaps only Lynch could get away with a sequence like this in a film that’s otherwise coherent. In the end, he’s also Dorothy after the Wizard leaves in his hot air balloon, it takes Glinda in her bubble-gum-pink orb to make him realise that his place is with Lula, that she is his home. He’s misguided, committed to an independent life of crime that sees him in and out of jail. While Lula clearly knows she needs Sailor, he’s less astute. She’s found a home in Sailor, and that’s beautiful. Therapy isn’t an option for a woman on the road, not least in its financial cost, and her ‘home’ in the domestic sense is totally dysfunctional. A cigarette calms her nerves, but it’s a short-term fix. Lynch uses the visual language of film editing to recreate a facsimile of post-traumatic experience. Just as I’m triggered by loud noises and sudden movements, Lula’s flashback erupts onto the screen when Sailor slams a window shut. Wild at Heart showed me that you can appear to be better on the surface while invisible scars lurk underneath. But being able to write about it is a sign I’m on the road to recovery. That’s not to say those demons have been laid to rest – far from it. And just like Lula, a significant part of that recovery came through not only tolerating but enjoying sex. Lula claims she couldn’t talk about it with her mother, and neither could I – it wasn’t until I met my loving boyfriend that I learned to respect myself, to identify the spiral of depression I’d fallen into. Like Lula and the statistical majority of other survivors, I was assaulted by someone I already knew. It’s clear that Lula has told Sailor about her trauma before, and it’s through their healthy sex life that she refuses to allow the rape to control her – she’s a survivor, not a victim. “Wild at Heart showed me that you can appear to be better on the surface while invisible scars lurk underneath.” Light a match, extreme close-up of a burning cigarette, and we settle in for a stream of post-coital duologues consisting of startling trust and honesty. What’s more, her relationship with Sailor (Cage) is unmistakably romantic, and their sex life is shown to be fulfilling and consensual. She’s fun-loving, sexy, and in total command of herself. Unlike the laughing gas-induced attacks in Blue Velvet or the mysterious murder of Laura Palmer in Twin Peaks, we don’t see the act itself so there’s no risk of it being confused for narrative pleasure we see only the aftereffects on a female character we instantly fall in love with. What distinguishes the sexual assault in Wild at Heart from Lynch’s other films is that Laura Dern’s Lula is given full agency in its depiction. In fact, if I’d known the film would be dealing with sexual assault, I’d have avoided it. It wasn’t what I’d expected – wasn’t this just the pulpy one with Nicolas Cage in a snakeskin jacket? I hadn’t thought of Lynch as an empathetic filmmaker, as someone capable of tackling the psychological effects physical abuse has on women. Despite being released in 1990, it was one of those rare moments when a hand reached out, took mine, and told me it knew how I felt. I hadn’t made this connection between The Wizard of Oz and my PTSD until I saw David Lynch’s Wild at Heart. A click of the ruby slippers, “There’s no place like home…” and I’m safe again. We do this when my treatment triggers something and I start to disassociate as my mind convinces me I’m reliving the past. My therapist says the magic words I chose, and I’m sitting in my grandad’s armchair in their cosy living room, the scent of lavender wafting through. When you’re undergoing Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), one technique is to close your eyes and transport yourself to a safe space. “There’s no place like home… There’s no place like home… There’s no place like home…” Its uncanniness frightens her, and through sheer will power she escapes. It’s soon turned upside down, a puff of red smoke and the Wicked Witch of the West appears, doing everything she can to stop Dorothy returning home. “Toto, I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.” Dorothy says this line excitedly – it’s thrilling to leave the drab sepia world of 1930s America for the glorious Technicolor of Oz.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. ArchivesCategories |