It's Willem Dafoe doing that sicko-psycho leer through the veil of his stocking mask ("They're dummies... Dummy!"). It's that grubby little jump-shot of a stinky toilet pan as Lula's harridan momma Marietta spells and spits out, "S, H, I, Tuh!" It's Cage and the comedy kung fu kicks by the side of the highway - and the sly and strange segue to a tender lovers' clinch as Lynch floats his camera up and over, drinking in the moment's sun-flared afterglow.
It's Harry Dean Stanton barking at the TV. It's the bloke who quacks like a duck and insists that "pigeons spread diseases!" It's the other bloke who explains that his dog is always with him even when it clearly isn't. And, hell, it's that opener... The sparkle of a flick-knife. A swell of pummelling power-chords. The multi-crack and crunch of ol' Bob Ray Lemon's brains painting the cold, cold marble floor...
It's David Lynch. No other director could have taken novelist Barry Gifford's sweet but slight tale of two eloping, Southern-fried sweethearts and spun out such a dizzying psychedelic patchwork of hungry sex, stinging violence and all the ruin and redemption in between. Those who gag on the stylised surface kook can surely admire the bite and balls beneath. Lula (Laura Dern) nails it, with her motel-marooned howl of desolation ("This whole world is wild at heart and weird on top!").
The DVD package is a strong spruce-up of the previous edition, with an updated Making Of, well stacked with fresh chat from pretty much everyone (including a giggly, animated Dern, mystifyingly muffled by a heavy soft-focus lens while real-life mother Diane Ladd is happy to show her age). Best, though, is the sequence where Lynch explains the craft of film transfer, showing an unreserved love for DVD that will surely - soon - lead to his first yak-track. Rockin' good news.