My goodness, such fussing about Charles Champlin's quite generous assessment of "Blue Velvet" as a "film."
At bottom, Lynch's effort is a rather sophomoric film noir without the guts to follow through on the implication of its theme. In the classic Hollywood reconciliatory pattern, we are titillated for a while by the bad stuff and then all is tidied up at the end of the third reel.
I mean really, a bug-eating robin redbreast and a cerulean last shot ain't the acme of profundity. Thank God that Champlin descends from his lofty perch now and again to bring sanity and perspective to film reviewing.
C. SHELDON THORNE