Dorothy Vallens

I’m sure that no one with a computer is new to the sentiment ‘you can’t smile until you’ve learnt how to cry’, you’ve probably encountered its various forms in shitty chain-emails, or as a Facebook status from your 14 yr old cousin. What is that actually saying anyway? Most babies cry at birth, and start smiling voluntarily weeks later, so it’s not really getting at anything too profound in a literal sense. But in a new-age, spiritual, hippy, touchy-feely way, there’s something there. There’s a hint at the connection between pleasure and suffering. I don’t say ‘pain’, but suffering – a far richer understanding of what pain can be.

Dorothy Vallens (Blue Velvet, 1986) suffers. She suffers the abduction of her son and her husband. She suffers ritualistic rape. She suffers manipulation and psychological torture. She is a victim.

You want to be more like Dorothy Vallens? Are you a complete masochist? Well in response to those questions I’d say; Yes, I would like to be more like Dorothy Vallens, and no, I am not that much of a masochist.

No woman wants her beauty to be defined in purely physical terms, but that is not to say that she doesn’t want to be physically beautiful. Dorothy Vallens is undeniably beautiful. But this is not purely attributable to the physical beauty of Isabella Rossellini, or the saturated shooting of David Lynch. Dorothy is the femme fatale; she is vulnerable and wildly desirable, but impenetrable (not literally/physically). She needs and wants help, but she will not be won. She does not end up with Jeffrey (the man who liberates her from Frank), nor does she seem to want to be with him. Dorothy is a stunning woman, but what is so engaging about her is that there is so much more going on, and it’s right below the surface; she is forlorn, abused, talented, wicked, and she needs you – and everyone can tell. That’s a formidable presence.

Dorothy doesn’t simply suffer. Neither can it be said that she is a feisty heroine, Lara Croft-ing her way out of servitude. She is a victim, but she is not victimised by her victimhood. She grins a cracked-tooth grin as Frank slaps her, and she begs Jeffrey to hit her at the height of pleasure. She’s forced to sing, but she enjoys singing. It seems hard to say that she does not enjoy some elements of her abuse, or the attentions. And we can’t simply assume that it’s because of repeated abuse. We can’t assume that she didn’t enjoy a bit of S&M with Don – her husband, or that she never grabbed a mic before meeting Frank. Sure, she suffers at the hands of Frank – that is undeniable – but she doesn’t only suffer. She gets her kicks, even though she’s being used in the basest way.

Try pigeonholing Dorothy as just a dirty pro-bono prostitute. Nup. She’s a wife and mother, and cares desperately for her son and her husband. Don and ‘little Donny’ need her, as both mother and wife, but also as their safeguard, she must ‘stay alive for Van Goh’. And both Frank and Jeffrey need her. This woman is vital, in every role that women have been mythologised (yeah, okay, probably not as a virgin): mother, wife, whore, body, damsel in distress, martyr, obsession, dependant, Mata Hari, beauty, and muse.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want Frank Booth to gag me with a strip of blue velvet, and I don’t want to be sent my husband’s ear without his accompanying live body. I also don’t want to find Kyle MacLachlan in my wardrobe. I certainly do not see Dorothy Vallens as an ideal of what it is to be a woman (there is, of course, no such thing), nor do I see oppression and suffering as necessary to obtain womanhood. I would not like to be in Dorothy Vallens’ situation, but I would like to be more like Dorothy Vallens. Energy rumbling below the surface of a surreal/un-real woman who didn’t allow herself to be reduced to a body with no agency or self-determination; they may take her liberty and body, and determine her suffering, but they can’t take or determine her pleasure.

Post courtesy of Lauren Bertacchini

Picture Source:

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Alex

What’s it going to be then eh?

I know what you’re thinking, Alex? The guy who did all the raping and murdering? You’re right, but allow me to explain.

Alex is just down-right cool. He is intelligent, appreciates the arts, and plays by his own rules. Let’s put it in context – consider who you would be if you were native to the dystopian world in which Alex toils. His feeble conformist parents? The minister of the inferior interior? Or one of the activists who compromises their own values in pursuit of their cause?

I have a couple of theories about why I favour such a sociopath. I like to think my admiration stems from jealousy of his articulation and flair for irony. Or perhaps respect for his confidence, something I was never fortunate enough to possess. But I fear there is something more sinister at work here as entering the dark, gritty world of A Clockwork Orange fulfils a kind of fantasy. I mean why do we read if not for escapism? I know that I would never do the things he does, I know I would never be so disrespectful of authority and my community, so a little trip in to the me that would never be is a kind of thrill.

If you haven’t read the book you have probably seen the Stanley Kubrick film. To help support my case I should tell you that the film is an adaptation of the American version of the novel in which the final chapter is left out. I suppose the main theme of the novel isn’t necessarily lost by this omission, however the chapter does have a certain redeeming function for Alex. When he leaves the hospital he is back to his old routine of consuming narcotics and carrying out acts of ultra violence. He even has a new set of droogs at his side; but it somehow isn’t the same. By running in to his old companion George and his wife he has an epiphany and decides what he really wants is a wife and son. He recognises the chaos of his youth and decides to move past it: “all it was was that I was young. But now as I end this story, brothers, I am not young, not no longer.”

I suppose it is a bit hard to stomach his dismissal of such harsh crimes and blaming it all on his youth, but it helps my case if he comes good in the end. Tolkein described stories as a way of escaping the binds of reality and undertaking adventures in safety, he says it is “possible to read stories in peace of mind, free from fear.” I think it is necessary to mention this as I am sure that if the guy knocked on my door late at night I certainly wouldn’t answer it, but in my imagination and from so far a distance Alex is someone to be admired.

Picture Source – http://www.flickriver.com/groups/aclockworkorange/pool/interesting/