BLUE VELVET. De Laurentiis Entertainment Group / 20th Century Fox, 1986. Isabella Rossellini, Kyle MacLachlan, Dennis Hopper, Laura Dern, Hope Lange, Dean Stockwell. Screenwriter-director: David Lynch.

   I have never listened to much popular music — other than show music — and for all I know Bobby Vinton’s recording of “Blue Velvet” may be a period piece that captures the feeling of a year or even of a decade. Whatever its importance as a popular icon, David Lynch has used it effectively in his film Blue Velvet where the plushy, languorous singing, returning insistently like a haunting~ refrain, provides an erotic, languorous counterpoint to the often brutal events of a film that, like Lynch’s first movie, Eraserhead, shows some promise of becoming a cult classic.

   Kyle MacLachlan, the apple-cheeked hero of Lynch’s film of Frank Herbert’s science-fiction epic novel, Dune, plays a seemingly innocent hero who, like the heroine of many an insufferable Gothic romance, blunders against all good sense into a situation in which his life and even his virtue are at peril.

   Lynch’s intention is, in part, satiric — as it was in the memorable Eraserhead — and, against the background of an idealized all-American city captured in colors that have the intensity of pop art painting, Kyle/Jeffrey, obsessed with the masochistic needs of a sexually tormented singer — played by Isabella Rossellini- attempts to unravel the intricate psycho-sexual empire presided over by a demented Dennis Hopper.

   MacLachlan is aided by a somewhat mature Nancy Drew, splendidly portrayed by blond Laura Bern, the “good” woman in his life (as sultry, raven-haired Rossellini is his “dark” mistress), who, in some perplexity, asks him if he is a “pervert” or a detective. Summoning up as much of a leer as his somewhat limited acting skill will allow, Maclachlan replies that it is for “me to know and you to find out.”

   This gauntlet is, of course, also thrown down to the sometimes bemused viewer, and this Chinese-box film, with its blue velvet song and fabric serving as an opening and closing frame, will not find a disinterested audience.

   If some equivalent of the League for Moral Decency is still functioning, an extended sequence in which Rossellini seduces a fascinated but somewhat reluctant hero into a sado-masochistic tumble should have its adherents taking to the streets in self-righteous outrage.

   MacLachlan keeps protesting that he only wants to help while Rossellini pleads with him to hurt her, and it is this psychological ambivalence that lies at the heart (and it is an amused and perverse intelligence which controls it) of this brilliantly directed film.

   Blue Velvet is impeccably cast and often memorably played. Rossellini and Hopper are an unforgettable apparently mismatched pair, while former MGM child star Dean Stockwell plays the stoned proprietor of a peculiarly staffed whorehouse with deadly, pointillist accuracy. Once again, Lynch has shown a particular genius for undermining the American family. Machlachlan’s father, mother, and aunt are Grant Wood figures in a Charles Burchfield darkling wood. Not to be missed are the quick shots of the family’s prime-time TV viewing and the robin-with-beetle episode that closes the film.

   Whatever your view of small-town America may be, it is not likely to be the same after seeing this absorbing movie. Do not expect to be moved or to care about the characters’ fates. Some viewers will feel the film is an assault on basic virtues and common decency, and it is.

   Others will revel in the photography, delight in the often witty script, and find in themselves unsuspected depths of playful decadence in their response to Blue Velvet. The viewer is invited to become a detective but also to participate vicariously in the complex games Lynch plays.

   And it is up to you, dear reader, should you see this film, to answer that provocative question posed by Laura/“Nancy” to Kyle/Jeffrey. But you may not want to share your answer with your best friend, your lover … or yourself.