Rich in contradiction and mysterious in its effects, with a plot that vividly and literally dramatizes such Freudian concepts as the primal scene and the Oedipus complex, "Blue Velvet," when it arrived in 1986, opened the floodgates of academic analysis.
A fascinating cast of possible villains is explored in this skilfully plotted and well-paced novel, each vividly described, entirely believable and never sliding into the usual parodies of country folk.
It's not heavily plotted — the book is primarily a series of vignettes and observations — but what pulls it together is the author's dry, self-deprecating wit about situations that manage to seem both vividly unique and universal.
The plot is as vividly messy as life itself.
What's especially impressive about this production is how it keeps its plot and characters vividly clear and distinguishable in the midst of all this senses-clogging viscosity.
As he did in "The Kite Runner," he uses a melodramatic plot to convey vividly the many aspects of love and the ways people sacrifice themselves for those they hold dear.
Without going into the details of the plot, the story vividly portrays the sharply divergent worlds of those who glorify war and those who are actually sent into combat.
The innocence of the children can be cloying — they plot to release butterflies inside the parliament building — but the end of that innocence is vividly evoked.
But quite apart from his all too authentic experience of antisemitism, it is a brilliant choice for an opera, with a plot that traverses two vividly opposed worlds, each suggesting a different type of musical expression.
Like M. Night Shyamalan ("The Sixth Sense"), Mr. Nakata usually cloaks his artificial plot developments within a vividly real context of failed communication between adults and children, a topic lacking in the unaccountably child-free "Chaos".
