While I consider myself a David Lynch fan, there’s a lot of his work that I’ve never gotten the chance to watch. I’m far, far too young to have watched his movies when they were first released. The vast majority of his work isn’t on streaming services, and if it is, it isn’t available in my country because I don’t live in the United States. I could buy his entire filmography on Blu-ray, but I’m not flush with cash or space to store discs.
When Lynch passed last month, my local independent cinema organised an ongoing retrospective of his films, which finally gave me the chance to watch the ones I had missed out on. That meant that, for the first time, I had the great pleasure of seeing Wild at Heart, in full, big screen glory no less.
As I watched it, I had a couple of thoughts. First, that this might be my favourite of all his films so far. Second, that the film was inspiring an overwhelming sense of what I could only characterise as glee, in a way that few other directors have managed. And third, that Sailor was reminding me an awful lot of Goro Majima.
Unbridled Joy
The sense of glee that Wild at Heart gave me immediately reminded me of how I felt when I first discovered Yakuza. Specifically, Yakuza 0 – like many, it was my entry into the series. I remember the huge smile that spread across my face as I watched Majima’s first scene as the manager in Cabaret Grand. I gasped, I cheered, and I laughed so hard I almost cried. I thought, my god, this is camp. I’d never played a game that filled me with so much unadulterated joy. It was so earnest, and so… weird.
It’s hard to watch Wild at Heart and not think again of Goro Majima, if only because of Sailor’s snakeskin jacket, which he proclaims again and again is a symbol of his individuality and his belief in personal freedom. Sailor is unpredictable, overwhelmingly passionate, and at times violent. I am far from the only person who’s made this comparison.
TV Tropes states that Majima’s fit was directly inspired by Sailor’s in Wild at Heart. I have not been able to find a reputable source confirming this. I don’t necessarily believe that’s true, but like… they’re the same picture.
Lynch’s Influence Is Everywhere
But of course, the similarities extend beyond just the visual similarities of two characters. I wouldn’t say that Lynch’s work always inspires joy in me – I find many of his films to be quite disturbing and difficult to watch, from an emotional standpoint. But he often focuses on violence and criminal activity while underpinning his work with earnestness and a deep love for the world and humanity. Likewise, I wouldn’t characterise the majority of his work as camp, but there is a clear adoration for the surreal and the dream-like.
These things tie in nicely with what I, and many fans, love about the Yakuza games. They’re incredibly funny while feeling at times completely divorced from reality – grounded in a central, more serious narrative, yes, but pairing that seriousness with a surreal sense of humour and an undying commitment to look at the world with grace and love.
I discovered David Lynch long before I ever knew what a Yakuza game was, but to my great surprise, after years of loving both things, I’m starting to recognise that in some way, I love these things the same. There really is David Lynch everywhere for those with the eyes to see.
