“No tongue – my lipstick,” Diane Ladd’s conniving Marietta Fortune admonishes at the beginning of Wild at Heart, flirting with Harry Dean Stanton’s Johnnie Farragut, while perfectly setting the tone for the tantalizing sexual games to follow. Lynch’s typically bizarre noir contains one of the steamiest foreplay scenes ever to grace the indie screen. Strangely, this kinky non-sex scene involves not Laura Dern’s Lula and Nicolas Cage’s Sailor Ripley (whose love scenes are saturated with such hyper-real color and artistic angles as to overshadow the screwing), but the childlike Lula and Willem Dafoe’s greasy, so-creepy-he’s-charismatic Bobby Peru (”Just like the country,” he drawls, introducing himself to Lula and Sailor outside the hotel they’re all staying at, sliding snakelike into Wild at Heart nearly an hour and twenty minutes fashionably late). Dressed in black, sporting a Clark Gable moustache, Bobby’s the ultimate contrast to Dern’s big blonde hairdo, red lipstick painted, 20-year-old piece of mentally damaged white trash. That the episode doesn’t culminate in predictable fornication only proves that the iconoclastic director truly understands how to harness the power of the erotic chase––that is, that it’s hotter than the catch.
I first saw Wild at Heart on the big screen at a more innocent time in my life, when S&M conjured up only images of women wearing corsets and stilettos, bearing whips and canes. But seeing the above scene between Bobby and Lula hit a nerve in me, in fact several. It was the only time I can remember actually feeling embarrassed at the movies, voyeuristically observing this charged encounter onscreen. The characters were both fully dressed, no fucking was taking place – so why did I feel like I was witnessing the dirtiest hardcore porn?
Probably because I was. Bobby and Lula engage in a power play game which renders Lula stripped psychologically naked. Instead of tearing off each other’s clothes they’re clawing at each other’s psyches. The sexual act pales in comparison.
Cage’s Sailor is an Elvis wannabe (that the actor would later marry Lisa Marie Presley shows that sometimes truth is as strange as David Lynch’s fiction) and con on the run from the assorted hit men hired by femme fatale Marietta, Lula’s mama. He’s conveniently out changing the oil in the car when Bobby knocks on the door to the lovebirds’ hotel room, which is answered by Lula in black lingerie and red heels. Bobby explains he has to take a piss. When Lula orders him to leave he takes this as an invitation to toy with her.
Bobby can spot Lula’s kind a mile away – the type that employs her sexuality as both weapon and shield, learned far too young how to wield it in a jujitsu move, to gain power over the men who use her for it. Since Sailor truly loves Lula he doesn’t know how to play the game, whereas Bobby is a pro just like she. Crude and obnoxious, Bobby is also as hyperaware as an animal, always on the alert for ways to get inside his opponents’ heads. (He figures out Lula’s pregnant by the smell of puke in the room – then uses that information to convince Sailor to come along on a robbery so he’ll be able to provide for his new family.) Like every sadist Bobby takes delight in his ability to control, hold power, over others. He knows that power is sexy, and he uses his own sexuality to control situations as much as Lula does. They are two sides of the same coin, both fighting to stay on top, the heat lying in the friction this creates.
Bobby responds that he likes a woman with nice tits who talks tough “and looks like she can fuck like a bunny. Do you fuck like that, huh?” he whispers from the doorway all the way on the other side of the room. Of course, the question is rhetorical. He knows as well as we do that Lula is the one forever initiating sex with Sailor, her body draped languidly around him when Bobby first saw her. He glides in closer, bragging he can fuck like a jackrabbit, backing her ever nearer to the wall. “Am I scaring you?” Bobby inquires with a smile, looking downwards. “Is it wet?”
Lynch’s camera cuts to a medium shot so we see Bobby’s hand reach for Lula’s crotch as he reprimands her for leaping back so slow. “I thought you was a bunny – bunny jump fast!” he taunts as Lula, arms crossed in protection, backs over to the sunlit window. She’s not as mentally nimble as Bobby, still trying to assess the situation to figure out her best move. Bobby is getting too close for comfort – psychologically and physically. In the sparsely furnished room with industrial carpeting, a drab bed and a small mirror over a chest of cheap drawers, Bobby offers that her pacing “means something,” that she wants him to fuck her hard. “Open you up like a Christmas present,” he laughs. Is that right? All he needs is a simple yes or no answer.
When the petrified Lula finally recovers her voice and shoves Bobby away, he grabs her tightly by the head. “Say fuck me and I’ll leave,” he orders softly. She refuses so he screams, “I’ll tear your hair out, girl!” The over-the-top outburst seems less loss of control on Bobby’s part than it does effort to jumpstart Lula’s brain, to keep her both in the game and off balance so he can stay on top, for he promptly resumes the whispers, one hand still gripped in her blond curls. “Say it, say fuck me,” he purrs like a lover, Lynch’s camera in close-up to their lips, to Bobby’s USMC tattooed hand running leisurely down Lula’s revealing lace bra. He’s starting to break Lula down, like turning her own knife against her, force her to beg the way she’s made so many men into dogs. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me,” Bobby repeats like a mantra, each command eliciting heavy sighs from Lula that morph into the sounds of an oncoming orgasm.
When Bobby’s fingers finally arrive between Lula’s thighs Lynch cuts to a close up of their faces in profile, agony turning to ecstasy and back again. Lula’s red-painted nails spread to grope the air behind her like a wrestling tap-out, an “I give.” Bobby knows he’s won, sends her flying backwards with one push. She wasn’t a formidable adversary after all. “Someday, honey, I will, but I gotta get going!” he announces gleefully. The game is officially over. Warning her not to cry (i.e., don’t be a bad loser) he simply turns and walks out the door to the light strumming of an acoustic guitar, leaving Lula to click her red heels three times before breaking into a fit of bewildered tears, a different sort of “release” but one nonetheless. While leaving us still bound up in our unquenched desire, or as Lula would say, as hot and bothered as “Georgia asphalt.”
Very interesting essay re: Wild @ Heart, but how about dropping the “white trash” reference (either here & or in your writing in the future); not a cool term, definitely racist (putting together a term that equals any kind of people with trash is a bad move). For a little bit more on the problems associated with the term, check out this article:
http://www.latimes.com/news/opinion/la-oe-rodriguez9-2008jun09,0,3774798.column
Not trying to be the thought police here, but the malice in the term definitely did pull me out of the essay in a jarring manner. So, as a reader, I was affected negatively by your choice to use the term “white trash”. And, going forward, WT is a term we should retire as it helps to create unncecessary animosity towards a group of people.
Otherwise very interesting essay.
- Sujewa
From the link above, re: the term “white trash” and why we should stop using it:
“The term “white trash” seems to have emerged in the 1820s in Baltimore. It was slang, used by both free and enslaved blacks, to put down the poor whites with whom they sometimes found themselves in economic competition. Middle-class and elite whites then borrowed and popularized the term for their own purposes, one of which was to solidify their racial dominance.
That process started with the ideology of black inferiority, which emerged as a justification for slavery, and the concomitant ideology of white supremacy. In pre-Civil War Southern society, the presence of poor, uneducated and uncouth whites presented something of a problem for the advocates of slavery: They were living, breathing proof that whiteness and superiority were not the same.
By the 1850s, poor whites found themselves caught in the debate over slavery. In 1854, abolitionist author Harriet Beecher Stowe argued that “white trash” were the victims and byproducts of slavery, in which the planter class monopolized tillable soil and left poor whites struggling to survive. For their part, pro-slavery advocates retorted that the source of the white underclass was not slavery but the tainted blood that ran through these depraved people’s veins.
In other words, in order to maintain the idea of white supremacy, white elites had to de-racialize their poor — remove them from the group. They were “white” in skin color only. Just as the one-drop rule — which held that any person with any amount of African blood would be considered black — kept the white racial category “pure,” so did the creation and disowning of “inferior” whites. “The term ‘white trash’ gave a name to people who were giving ‘whiteness’ a bad name,” said Matt Wray, a Temple University sociologist and the author of “Not Quite White: White Trash and the Boundaries of Whiteness.” “It meant that they were behaving in ways that didn’t suggest that they were the master race.”
By the turn of the century, eugenicists were studying poor rural whites and documenting their social dysfunctions. They eventually made the fatuous connection between Southern white poverty and “consanguinity,” or shared blood — which meant incest. The accusation stuck, and many poor whites were labeled feeble-minded and became the victims of the forced-sterilization programs that began in the 1920s.”
So yeah, a loaded term with an evil history behind it. A good idea to let it go as we have let go other terms that insult other people.
Nice article. This is one of my favorite movies and I love the scene you describe at length between Bobby and Lulu. It probably is one of the most painfully erotic non-sex scenes of all time.
Diane Ladd also has some terrific non-sex scenes in the film as well. The one where she crawls on her knees like a cat for Harry Dean Stanton while he plays peek-a-boo is fantastic, as well as the flashback when she comes on to Sailor in the men’s room. Actually, the sexual energy she throws off in each scene is amazing.
Regarding the use of the term “white trash” – I look forward to your comments regarding my use of the term “queer” when my Gay Pride column posts.
Should have included the line w/ the term (”white trash”) I was commenting about in the first post, sorry about that, here it is:
“Dressed in black, sporting a Clark Gable moustache, Bobby’s the ultimate contrast to Dern’s big blonde hairdo, red lipstick painted, 20-year-old piece of mentally damaged white trash.”
And again, other than that (as far as I can tell at the moment), good article. I still think Wild at Heart was one of the most bizare mainstream distributed movies of all time. Will need to check it out again, saw it for the first time long before I got into filmmaking.
- Sujewa
Lauren,
Re: “Regarding the use of the term “white trash” – I look forward to your comments regarding my use of the term “queer” when my Gay Pride column posts.”
Well, reappropriating offensive words is an item related to what I commented about; but I was not aware that “white trash” has been reappropriated by the people/community who were targeted by that term. I think the word “queer” at this point in time is at a different place; or, how people respond to it is based on when & where & by who it is used. As such, I probably will not have any comments to make re: your use of the word “queer”. But if it is offensive to some I am sure they will speak up.
- Sujewa
You’re right that it’s a terrific scene, but in my eyes, it’s not sex, it’s rape.
A “typical” Lynch touch are Peru’s repulsive teeth - they create a push/ pull of interest. There are similar make-up effects throughout his films that repulse/fascinate the viewer, especially Elephant Man.
Actually there is a reclaiming of the term “white trash” going on. Toby Keith even named an album “White Trash With Money,” declaring his pride in his white trash roots. But you wouldn’t know that would you, Sujewa? Because you don’t actually know any white trash – only those in your liberal elite, politically correct world.
Good essay. It seems that Lynch always wants to dance the line between outright desire and violence. In nearly all of his films (even Twin Peaks) sexuality and violence are intertwined.
Offensive or not, I’m fairly certain Lula doesn’t qualify as “white trash” — she’s merely Southern.
I’m surprised by the hyper-defensiveness of your reactions to Sujewa’s comments, Lauren. I thought the article was intriguing — a thoughtful commentary on a very memorable scene to which I responded in a similar way — but I was also taken aback by the use of “white trash.” I took Sujewa’s response to be an attempt to initiate dialogue — she responded favorably to the article but raised a concern about the use of a term. If you had responded with the remark about Toby Keith that might have developed into an intriguing discussion but to suggest that Sujewa is totally out of touch with the folks you are now suggesting can pridefully label themselves as “white trash,” and to suggest that she is part of a “liberal elite” — that seems odd. What do you know about Sujewa? Unless you are inferring something from her name, or from the ideas she has expressed, or unless you happen to know her and this is just a silly back and forth mock-angry banter for fun, how can you know who she knows and where she is coming from?
Having just posted the previous comment — I realized that I was also inferring something from Sujewa’s name that may be false: given that the other language I speak is Spanish and Spanish names ending in “a” are usually female I automatically assumed Sujewa was female. Having googled the name I realized I was wrong. Sorry for presuming Sujewa.
Lauren,
Re: “Actually there is a reclaiming of the term “white trash” going on. Toby Keith even named an album “White Trash With Money,” declaring his pride in his white trash roots. But you wouldn’t know that would you, Sujewa? Because you don’t actually know any white trash – only those in your liberal elite, politically correct world.”
Well, I do know about Toby Keith, my girlfriend’s mom is a big country music fans, watches the country music video channel a lot, so, when I hang out at her place I get a nice does of country/including some Keith (whether I want it or not :).
I know a lot of “poor” “white” people. But of course that’s mostly creative people who are temporarily poor by modern, 21st century, DC/NYC area standards; hardly poor “whites” of the 1800’s that inspired the slur “white trash”.
Then there are the few not involved in the creative biz/older/not wealthy working people I know who are “white”, and I am fairly certain they’ll get pretty upset if a stranger were to call them “white trash”.
Also, there is an automatic negative response by some to anything that is deemed “politically correct”; but most of the time, people are just complaining against other people trying to be polite/avoiding unnecessary insults, etc. to other people. Politeness is cool; necessary for the smooth functioning of community & society. Freedom of expression is cool. Also readers such as myself seeing a potentially offensive to some/many word in an article about a scene from a movie & pointing that out is cool.
Also, just like accusing other people of being hipsters, usually those who are calling others “liberal elites” are ones who would fit pretty well into that category themselves. Whoever actually “liberal elites” are, they sound pretty cool (as Jon Stewart said re: people using elite as an insult against Senator Obama, “elite is cool, i want my president to be better than me” (or something like that); so being an elite in anything is not necessarily a bad thing (elite filmmaker - Spike Lee , elite soldier/general - George Washington, elite boxer - Muhhamed Ali, etc., the kind of people we generally celebrate)) I am fairly liberal on some matters, conservative on others, not really a member of an elite group in any traditional sense; same goes for a lot of people I know & hang out with.
Though some maybe working on reappropriating the term “white trash”, that work is not done yet (see the response Vice Prez Chaney (sp?) received for using “white trash” in a public speech/joke recently in the article I liked to from above). For every Toby Keith, there are hundreds of people who are not comfortable with being labeled “white trash”. In your article, this article, it did not appear that you were using the term “white trash” in any kind of an enobeling or empowering sense, but were using it in its traditional, as an insult, manner. Thus my complaint.
That aside, great article. Definitely made me want to re-watch Wild at Heart.
- Sujewa
[...] linked to Lauren Wissot’s piece on Marnie before. This week, she analyzes an S&M-like scene in another movie, David Lynch’s Wild at Heart. Which I still [...]
Very interesting read. I think the first comment regarding the white trash phrase is taking the thing a bit out of context. They use the term in the film anyhow, so I think that was why the term was used.