Movies are like onions
Probably the closest Demme ever got to crossing wires with Lynch, a film having a little too much fun poking at the thin veil of moral decency and the identities we build to support those walls. An affable slightly kinky ride until Liotta hijacks the film and brings all the menace and eeriness that Blue Velvet was somehow also tapping into at the same time. For as frosty as that final suburban set conflict is, it’s really a wonder how seamlessly it blends into the more humanistic tendencies of the rest of the film. The Demme touch at full throttle for you.