In form, "Wild at Heart" is a road picture, about two young people on the run. But he is infected with self-doubt and cynicism, and he believes the worst of his audiences, so he makes films inspired by his despair. If he allowed himself a more positive vision - if he dared to believe in people - he could be a great film artist. But he is not a minor talent he is a gifted director with a strong sense of style. If Lynch were merely providing us with these commodities, he would merely be an exploitation filmmaker. We want rock 'n' roll? The Nicolas Cage character in "Wild at Heart" talks and walks like Elvis, and even sings two of his songs. We want drugs? Dennis Hopper, in " Blue Velvet," will inhale a substance so forbidden that no one has even been able to figure out what it is.
We want sex? He'll give us undreamed-of perversity. Show-biz executives have a cynical shorthand formula for commercial success: "sex, drugs and rock 'n' roll." Lynch's work is exclusively concerned with these three elements, but in an angry, self-hating way he shoves our nose in it. "Wild at Heart" is a cinematic act of self-mutilation, a film that mocks itself.
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