I love the film Wild At Heart from the moment I saw it at a cinema in Camden in 1990 during the short time I lived in London. It is in my eyes probably the most romantic film I’ve ever seen, which is probably a sign I needed (and indeed probably still do) serious mental evaluation more than anything else. Apart from being stunned by another brilliant film directed by David Lynch, I was just taken by the end scene where Nicolas Cage as Sailor Ripley leaps across cars to find his girl Lula.
Here’s that very scene…
Well after that I had it in my head that sometime, someday I would do that to a girl I liked, (being younger, fitter and dafter than I am now) and see if she also believed in individuality and personal freedom as Sailor Did. Sadly if you tried leaping on cars to proclaim your devotion to a girl in London in 1990 you’d end up probably shot, beaten to a pulp or locked up, so it wasn’t til the following year when I’d returned to Leicester that one night I drunkenly decided to reenact the end of Wild At Heart towards a young lady who’d caught me in her gravitational pull.
That night after too many pints of Guinness I was walking back home in a crowd with her and decided (as one is want to do when you’ve drank a skinful) to leap on a car, proclaim my love or at the very least, my lust for her, and hope she goes for it. Well, I lept on an old Vauxhall, spat out a drunken version of Love Me Tender in a Nic Cage-esque drawl and after she stopped laughing she seemed touched, or at least was scared enough to humour me in case I went Full-Cage. Thankfully she seemed to pity me for long enough to also want to throw herself at me and that wee fling lasted a jolly few months before it imploded like a bad Nicolas Cage film.
The lesson I suppose is there is no lesson when it comes to Nic Cage films and girls. What did you expect? Something meaningful?