by Allan Fish
(USA 2001 147m) DVD1/2
It’s no longer your film
p Mary Sweeney, Alain Sarde, Neal Edelstein, Michael Polaire, Tony Krantz d/w David Lynch ph Peter Deming ed Mary Sweeney m Angelo Badalamenti (with Rebecca del Rio) art Jack Fisk cos Amy Stofsky
Naomi Watts (Betty Elms/Diane Selwyn), Laura Elena Harring (Rita/Camilla Rhodes), Justin Theroux (Adam Kesher), Mark Pellegrino (Joe Messing), Ann Miller (Coco), Robert Forster (Det.Harry McKnight), Lee Grant (Louise Bonner), Katharine Towne (Cynthia Jenzen), Dan Hedaya (Vincenzo Castigliane), Melissa George (Camilla Rhodes), Brent Briscoe (Det.Neal Domgaard), Michael Anderson (Mr Toque),
We’ve all been there; that moment when something happens in a movie and you think you’ve nodded off and missed something important. David Lynch’s masterful study in obsession and amnesia, among other things, is a case in point. It’s not that you ever have the movie sussed, I doubt anyone ever will, but at least you can follow it until, bang, just like that, everything goes not so much topsy-turvy as unbalanced enough to send the earth off its axis. It may be a movie when you come out of the theatre thinking “what the (expletive deleted)!”, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t a bona fide masterpiece all the same.
A young wannabe actress is coming to L.A. with dreams of fame and stays at her aunt’s house while she is away with a film crew shooting on location. When she arrives she finds a woman waiting for her, an amnesiac, who she lets stay and tries to help to recover her identity. Another young man returns to a Sunset Boulevard diner to relive a dream he’s been having and dies of a heart attack after a possibly imaginary encounter with a beast-like hooded man. Meanwhile a young director is having his choice of leading lady for his upcoming film made for him by Mafioso style gangsters, while his wife is having an affair with the pool cleaner. And that’s only the first act!!!
The film has essences of Don’t Look Now, Vertigo and the entire oeuvre of Luis Buñuel, as well as Dennis Potter, in which the well-endowed Laura Herring would not be out of place, but it’s quintessential Lynch. The story was originally to be made into a TV series to rival Twin Peaks, but short of finances he reshot it as a movie with an ending tacked on, or was that the beginning? From the retro fifties beat of the jitterbug contest over the opening credits to Michael Anderson again in another place (substitute brown room for red room) to a hilarious murder scene, it’s all pure Lynch. Time goes backwards and forwards, characters weave in and out of each other’s seemingly separate plotlines and the sexuality is far from straight, to put it mildly. The film certainly poses a lot more questions than it answers; is Betty actually Diane adopting the identity of Betty in an attempt to win back her jilted lover (certainly when she asks Camilla/Rita whether she has done this before when they make love for the first time there’s meaning behind it)? Is her hired killer, now deceased, hired to kill Camilla and is the car accident the result? Is it all a dream in the dying Betty/Diane’s head? Are the two old people (who make happiness seem scary) actually Diane/Betty’s parents (if not, why are they with Betty in the subliminal flashes during the jitterbug sequence?) and is she running from them? How can the events later in the film actually be before when Adam is talking about his wife’s affair as in the past, when actually it would be in the future? You tell me.
At the end of the day, you take from Drive what you put into it and, even for those who don’t respond to its subtle intricacies, there are compensations to be had in the gorgeous photography, a truly disquietingly haunting score from Lynch’s favourite composer Angelo Badalamenti (including Rebecca del Rio’s achingly unforgettable ‘Llorando’, after Roy Orbison’s ‘Crying’) and a truly extraordinary performance from Naomi Watts, touching as ingénue and terrifying as jilted lover. Not to mention Lynch’s very deliberate and at times almost geometric mise en scène; take it from me, there’s nothing there on screen that isn’t meant to be. This truly is a love letter to L.A. written in poison which, for me, even beats Blue Velvet as his greatest achievement.
Click on names for archives
Writers/Founders
Let’s face it, ABC is probably the most boneheaded network on American television. We’re lucky they allowed “Lost” to flourish as a series, though that was only after they fired the producer who greenlit the pilot in the first place for spending so much money. “Mulholland Drive” is an even more bizarre case, as it originated in a request from the network to ABC personally, hoping to recapture the same lightning-in-a-bottle black magic that made “Twin Peaks” the hottest thing on the small screen, before Bob Iger shot it in the foot with his solve-the-mystery ultimatum.
I’d like to think that “Mulholland” could’ve become the same kind of appointment television had it been given the space on broadcast airtime to spread its wings, and as such I really can’t bear to watch the film anymore, unable to help myself wondering about what might’ve been. It’s like watching the European version of the “Twin Peaks” pilot and imagining that had been all we ever saw– yes, those tantalizing glimpses of One Armed Mike, Killer BOB and the backwards-speaking denizens of the Red Room were gripping, but in their broadcast form they led to so much more. Wouldn’t the same have been true of the closed ending Lynch fabricated for Betty and Rita? One can only dream.
I disagree about the comparison to the TP pilot – in that the Red Room is a total non sequitur. In Mulholland, the final third takes the movie from enticing tease to a masterpiece for the ages. Even if you think it would be better as a series (I don’t) you can’t really make an analogy between the ending of Twin Peaks & the ending of Mulholland Dr. One means nothing, the other means everything.
In the TP pilot, the Red Room was non-sequitor, but that’s all he could afford. MD’s Club Silencio footage was shot for a similar closed ending, and it’s intriguing to wonder if Lynch might’ve released it in that form were it not for the intervention of Studio-Canal and the extra funds they guaranteed to wrap up the pilot in a more expanded, if not entirely conventional, form. As such, I think that the results of those labors are interesting, but still not really as remarkable as where Lynch would’ve taken us had he been given the same broad canvas that sevred him so well on TP. There, the demands of serial storytelling allowed his creative sensibilities to flourish in ways that just wouldn’t have been possible had he been given extra money after finishing the pilot to give us a more complete, yet closed answer as to who killed Laura Palmer.
At any rate, I’ll take those scant few minutes in the Red Room over all of Diane’s waking life. It might’ve been non-sequitor at the time, but even then it was possibly the most beautiful act of cinematic surrealism ever shot, a title it still holds in my heart today. Unwrap me a stick, ’cause that gum’s always back in style.
Even if Club Silencio had wrapped up the film, it would have been a more organic progression than cutting to a title reading “Twenty-five years later” and showing Kyle MacLachlan in old man makeup with a little man dancing! I agree that the sequence is stone-cold brilliant, but it works as a stand-alone short film or as a dream sequence in episode 2 – not as a climax to the pilot.
I can’t really compare Red Room to Diane’s waking life – one’s power is based on stand-alone surrealism (one reason it feels out-of-place after the surreal-but-real Twin Peaks pilot) the other’s is based on dramatic catharsis and character. We all know Lynch is a fantastic surrealist, but I think he’s a great dramatist as well, albeit an unconventional one – Mulholland Dr. being Exhibit A there.
As for Twin Peaks, I of course love the series but ultimately I find Fire Walk With Me a more powerful experience than the series, albeit a messier one. I don’t think Mulholland Dr. is messy, AND it’s powerful – best of both worlds. I think a TV series might have stretched it too thin.
Yeah, I know I’m repeating myself – but this thread will probably be my last opportunity to do so, so I’m taking full advantage!
Yes, FWWM is probably more powerful than the whole of TP. But that’s also my point– without all the twists, turns and embellishments made over the course of the series, FWWM would/could never have been made. As such, I can’t help but think that something similar might’ve been possible with “Mulholland Drive”. As much as I like the feature, it’s mostly just a cleaner, more emotionally open version of “Lost Highway”, a movie whose aesthetic pleasures and stone-cold loopiness make it a far more enjoyable experience for me. Perhaps if MD had been given the same chance that TP got, all the raw, pent up energy that Lynch spent on “Inland Empire” might’ve been channeled into a more mainstream articulation within the framework of the MD-narrative, or as a LH-style follow-up. In that case, and that case alone, I think the MD experience might’ve been for the best, as I’d rather have the messy, unselfcensored version of IE than its more conventional approximation.
As for the Red Room being inorganic compared to the extended denoument of MD– who said that Lynch was at his best when things were organic? I don’t rate him too high as a dramatist, then, so I don’t really see the attraction of what you’re talking about. At any rate, I don’t need the Red Room to be concretely attached to the plot to be of any worth, though in the end I’m glad it is. Right from the start, it was always connected to the main narrative of TP only with the same tenuous umbillical thread that attached the White Rooms at the end of “2001: A Space Odyssey”. Even only 25 years later, Cooper is somehow beyond the infinite himself, and that, I think, is the whole point. Unto the end, even in mis-en-scene itself, TP is like LP– filled with secrets.
Just to be clear: are we talking about the Red Room tacked onto the end of the pilot or the Red Room in episode 2? Because in the first case, I think the attachment is actually pretty sloppy – and that’s the ONLY time I can apply that word to any of Lynch’s work (messy maybe, but almost never sloppy). I do think he’s generally pretty organic and that he is a strong dramatist – indeed, you yourself have noted that his brand of surrealism needs narrative to thrive and doesn’t work quite as well when detached from character or theme. I would say that what sets Lynch apart is not that his surrealist tangents and oneiric mood exist independently of narrative, but rather that they are allowed to dictate narrative to a greater extent than usual.
I’m talking about the first case, and frankly I don’t think that “sloppy” really is the right word for it. The quick wrap-up with Mike and Bob, perhaps, but the Red Room is an inspired bit, not only as a surrealist set-piece, but also as a baldfaced “we had to end the movie, so here it is” bit of tomfoolery. I enjoy how random it was in its original context, so completely out of left field, and even within the series itself, it’s not that much more connected to the overall plot (at least not until season 2– in the first season, it’s still “just a dream”, and not a literal otherworldly place). It makes about as much narrative sense as “Beyond the Infinite” ever did, and like I said before, it’s enough for me.
As for Lynch the dramatist– I honestly think this is an overdone point. Yeah, his surrealism requires stories, but as far as narratives go, he’s best as a minimalist. His strongest works thrive on a single hook, a one-note beguiling premise that spirals into multiple permutations and variations. His weakest stuff tends to occur when there’s too much narrative ground to be covered– I’m thinking of “Wild at Heart”, “Dune” and the second season of “Twin Peaks” (or at least the majority of the post-WKLP stuff). Simply put, Lynch is at his best when the narratives of his films are simple enough to be summed up in a single sentence, or better yet, a single question.
He’s an example of the narrative drive used as a means, not as an end to itself. The moment it becomes the why, rather than the how, that’s when it all turns to shit.
In calling him a dramatist, I’m not thinking about structure – at least not structure alone – nor about plot. I’m thinking about character and theme. His movies are never just trippy or surreal for their own sake (not that I have a problem with that, incidentally – totally non-narrative art is something I actually like a lot). They always have a “point”: Fire Walk With Me uses the surrealism to explore incest (and while I have some issues with the way it does this, I concede that it is the most forceful, powerful, emotionally overwhelming treatment of incest I’ve ever seen in a movie). Mulholland Dr.’s surrealism is tied to the way we will conceal the truth from ourselves – externalizing our own evil (it’s also about dreams as private mythologies). Blue Velvet’s surrealism is all about a loss of innocence and an exposure to the world as it really is – dark, evil, and corrupt. Even Lost Highway is not surrealism for surrealism’s sake – it uses the surrealism to explore notions of identity and guilt (like Mulholland Dr.).
Again, this is not to criticize surrealism for surrealism’s sake, nor to say that Lynch couldn’t do it if he wanted to (though Inland Empire suggests this may be the case). In most of his films however, it’s not what he’s after. Character and surreal flourishes fly in tandem – in this sense the narratives are not starting points for wild tangents, but rather intimately related.
Out of curiosity, did you see the feature version of the pilot before the TV version? I saw the latter first, and by the time I saw the feature version I was already well-acquainted with the Red Room. But if you saw it for the first time in the feature, I can see how its effectiveness as a scene would make up for its placement, even on later viewings.
No, I saw the broadcast pilot version first. I know that for years TP fans had to make do with watching that Warner Bros. videotape which included the European ending, and had to stop watching around the time Laura’s mother has her nightmare vision. Luckily, I began watching the show on Bravo, where they showed the right version, and eventually was able to pick up a Korean DVD of the broadcast edit when the original Season One set came out (sans the pilot, for rights issues). So no, my reading of the feature-Red Room isn’t colored by first-time associations.
I think that in our discussion of Lynch as a dramatist and surrealist, we’re throwing around a lot of terms which actually have more bearing on the meaning of surrealism than we realize. You say that Lynch’s surrealism works best when there’s a story supporting it, rather than just the “wierdness for wierdness’ sake” of non-narrative cinema, and you’re right. However, I would argue that for any work of art to be called surrealist at all, there must be some narrative element at work, even if it is only a minimal one that is practically taken for granted on a subconscious level. When you look at a work by Dali, Magritte or Escher, you’re seeing a good deal of unusual sights– melting clocks & faces; men in bowler hats floating in the sky; sets of rooms and stairways that break any and all laws of physics– but at their heart they are based directly upon representation. These aren’t works that approach the static abstraction of the picture-plane– at times, a great work of surrealist painting can employ a near photorealist level of detail, hence the nature of the movement’s very name. And I would argue that any piece of representational artwork is engaging in a narrative of its own– it may or may not be a fictional narrative depending upon the subject, but at the end of the day, most paintings and sculptures tend to “tell stories” just as easily as movies, plays or books do.
Therefore, to say that Lynch’s surrealism requires a narrative base is both true and misleading– as surrealism, it goes without saying. In fact, considering how “narrative” is involved in so many brands of art and filmmaking that we all tend to somewhat lazily label as “non-narrative”, I’d argue that the better set of polar opposites for our sake would be “representational vs. abstract”.
At any rate, Lynch can be called a dramatist, but I still hold that his dramas are really just there for the atmosphere of visuals, sounds and actions more than anything else. He’s good at character studies and building environments, but beyond that he’s mainly recycling a lot of the old standard genre archetypes. That’s okay for what he is– he leans heavier on the side of surrealism than drama. A better blend of the two might be David Cronenberg.
I was going to say you’re talking abstract vs. representational rather than narrative vs. non-narrative, but I see you brought that point up yourself. Suffice to say I think something can be non-narrative and still representational, at least in the sense I’m discussing. I also think something can be “narrative” and still not have its heart in the narrative – something you seem to be saying. I think this is more or less the standard line on Lynch, and at one point I might have felt that way, but now I feel that he is not stringing together a series of moments, with narrative as the string to keep them in line, but rather is greatly concerned with the “meaning” of his stories – into which all the surrealism feeds.
Best, I suppose, rather than to use a dualistic model, to see the narrative and avant-garde elements of his filmmaking as organically bound. It’s just as true that the surrealism exists to elucidate the psychological underpinning of Laura Palmer’s murder as it is to say that Laura Palmer’s murder provides a template for an exploration of mythic and surrealistic conceits and moments. In Lynch’s films, unlike say Bunuel’s (or maybe even Cronenberg’s, who from what I’ve seen uses genre conventions as a framework to explore themes and visuals that intrigue him, with the stories being somewhat disposable) story and style and inextricably linked. So on this we’ll just have to agree to disagree, I suppose: “At any rate, Lynch can be called a dramatist, but I still hold that his dramas are really just there for the atmosphere of visuals, sounds and actions more than anything else.”
At a certain point you may be right that it’s safe to call a work non-narrative even if it relies upon representation– according to what I outlined above, something like “Koyanisqatsi” would have to be called a “narrative” work, and while I think that a very successful argument could be made in that regard, it’s not a topic I really have enough energy to mount at this point. Obviously art wouldn’t really be all that much fun if rules like these were actually paid that much attention to during the creation phase itself, but I think they’re a handy guide for any kind of egfrasticism.
Re: Cronenberg– in my opinion you’ve kinda got him and Lynch the wrong way around. Lynch is very much the provocateur, and oftentimes something of a pop-culture critic. His stuff is post-modern in the way it examines elements and archetypes from the media of recent past in very self-conscious terms– he may talk a good game about inspiration and stream of consciousness, but a lot of the time I think he’s actually a lot more calculated than anyone (he himself, perhaps) gives him credit for. In that sense, the genre-structures he plays with are essential parts of his work, and where I begin to see a lot of the interesting narrative play he has. Still, as far back as “Blue Velvet”, I’d say that a lot of it’s really just there for show– those moments where people watch noir-thrillers on television, like “Invitation to Love” on TP, underline all the pop-critic sensibilities in Lynch left merely implied by all the incongruous sights next to white-picket fences. One of the big questions about TP was whether or not it was all in earnest, or something of a satire of soap-opera conventions. In that respect, I’d say he’s about the same level of dramatist as Lucas is, another guy I’m really never certain of how ironic he’s being at any given moment.
Cronenberg, however– yes, his stories are largely vessels for his aesthetic and philosophical explorations, you can say. But for the most part, I think he’s far more consistently sincere with the emotional investment he invites with his characters than Lynch or Lucas are. Who knows, maybe I just tend to connect more with Cronenberg’s protagonists nowadays, but there are times when the fusion of his narratives and cinematic craftsmanship become as moving as anything. I’m thinking primarily of “The Brood”, “Dead Ringers” and “Naked Lunch” at this moment, and especially “The Fly”– Seth Brundle might just be the most poetically tragic hero that genre cinema has ever seen. Unlike Lynch or Lucas, his tongue is almost never in cheek (except lately, with “History of Violence”, a major reason I don’t like the movie too much nowadays, it’s too glib for him).
I ventured my opinion on Cronenberg cautiously because I haven’t seen the majority of his films – including many of his most iconic (heck, I just saw Scanners for the first time last night!). So you very well may be right there. I don’t care for History of Violence either, incidentally.
As for Lynch & Twin Peaks keep in mind that much of that show’s “postmodern” sensibility may be down to the various writers and directors who helmed most episodes – to varying degrees, they interpreted Lynch’s vision as more self-consciously quirky and ironic than may have been intended. Mark Frost in particular had a subtly differing sensibility which comes to bear on the episodes he wrote and directed alone. I think Lynch’s episodes are characterized by a greater sincerity (at the same time as a much greater weirdness) and a deeper emotion.
I don’t really disagree with what you’re saying, at times we seem to be saying different but not necessarily contradictory things. In the end, the stress we’re putting on it may be due to how we’re looking at the same thing. I’m taking it as a given that Lynch is not a normal dramatist or narrative director, that he indulges in stand-alone moments and the cultivation of an ethereal mood more than other directors. From there, what then strikes me is how much of a foot he maintains in the world of character, theme, and narrative. The contrarian/devil’s advocate in me is highlighting this, but of course what’s most noteworthy of him in a broader context is his willingness to explore extremely surrealistic tangents. On that at least we agree.
The only reading I’ve ever really humored is the first two-thirds as Naomi’s dream, and the last third as the “key” that explains where it came from. The movie makes so much sense with this interpretation, that I can’t imagine it any other way. There was a time when I wondered if the “explanation” wasn’t too unfortunately literal, killing some of the unexplainable power. But now I’m back to thinking it makes the film more powerful dramatically – when you go back and see the naivitee and romanticism of the first two acts, it’s all the more poignant knowing that this is Diane’s fantasy, her tragic, sordid life reconceived as a dark, but ultimately hopeful movie – where the robins’ warbling can still be heard faintly, in the distance.
Personally I hate that interpretation, and completely reject it, and I think it’s unfortunate the way it has been propagated as gospel by some folks. It’s so schematic, and completely antithetical to what I see as Lynch’s intent in all his work, which is re-evaluating the way in which movies end up privileging one reality over others. To say ‘well this is real and this isn’t’ completely destroys that, and renders his work as meaningless and arbitrary in a way that it clearly isn’t.
Gotta disagree with your rejection… the thing that I find appealing about Lynch’s work is that is able to be interpreted in different ways for different people – be it MovieMan’s interpretation (which I actually agree with, and find it hard to believe someone doesn’t read the film this way as it now seems so obvious) or in your own way. I don’t think anything is destroyed in the experience if someone wants to try and make sense out of it in the way that MovieMan and I have done.
I don’t know, Doniphon. In fact I’m pretty sure Lynch himself has indicated that there is a “correct” reading, and while he won’t of course state it explicitly, he offered a number of “clues” which all point to this conclusion. Frankly, I don’t see how the film can be anything else – like you, at one point I found this interpretation too “schematic” though I’ve come around to like it again.
If your point is a metaphysical one (why privilege the literal reality over the psychic one) than I can take that ride with you. Otherwise, not so much.
In general, I think Lynch is not really an “open” director, contrary to the image he cultivates. Until Inland Empire, he made films which were coded and dreamlike but also fundamentally narrative. And they are usually not deeply self-reflexive either, which was one problem I had with Inland Empire – it was an “it’s all a movie” exercise which didn’t really recognize that it itself was a movie. But that’s of course another topic!
Also I have to disagree that the “dream” interpretation renders the movie meaningless and arbitrary. I think it makes it seem less so, actually.
I should also add that you could very well be right about such an interpretation being “antithetical to Lynch’s intent,” but I don’t usually concern myself much with the director’s intent… just in how I respond to the actual film. Whether the two mesh isn’t very important to me.
Just my two cents.
P.S. “it makes it less so” – but whether or not that’s a good thing is of course open to debate.
Well, if Lynch has said that interpretation is correct then I think he’s lying! It certainly wouldn’t be the first time a director did. I guess the point I’m trying to make is metaphysical in a way, although I wouldn’t necessarily separate literal and psychic realities, because that itself implies one of them is a dream, or at least one reality only exists within the head of Betty/Diane. Or if we’re going to make that distinction, then everything happened in both realities. And while I agree Lynch is essentially a narrative director, the film is informed by an ambivalence towards narrative and the way it ends up shortchanging reality, no matter how we want to define that. To say it’s a dream she wakes up from is to re-assert that same notion of reality the movie itself wants to get away from, from this absolute notion of ‘this is what happened.’ As if only one thing can ever happen, as if just because only one possibility is perceived than no others are existent. That’s why it strips the movie of meaning; because suddenly it just becomes a gimmick, a dream, a Christopher Nolan movie, and the first half is made unreal.
It’s really not supposed to make sense because the world itself doesn’t make sense, the way we perceive doesn’t make sense. We end up re-ordering, trying to schematize in a way so that it does, but Lynch is trying to get away from that, to get closer to to a sense of primordial perception that makes us very, very uncomfortable. To say it’s a dream is a bit of a safety net; it’s to say, see I can figure it out, I have that blue key too, I know what’s going on. That shouldn’t be the point here. We should be lost.
Doniphon, you make a great point here and it gets to the heart of why I was once ambivalent about the “it’s a dream” reading (and by ambivalent, I mean about its effectiveness, not its accuracy).
I think the film works best when we move beyond seeing the “correct” reading as a safety net. The movie is jumbled and impressionistic enough to survive being “solved” and still retain its sense of mystery. Think of it like waking for a dream – we realize that what we’ve just experienced was in our head, but when the dream is really powerful its effect still lingers. I think that’s the case with Mulholland Dr. – we may know it’s a dream, but that only deepens its meanings and poignancy without dampening the surrealism too much (my own objection once upon a time, which has since abated).
I would also distinguish between a “device” and a “gimmick.” A device is a lens through which we can look – it focuses our attention and gives us a powerful viewpoint. A gimmick is a device in which the way of seeing outstrips what we’re seeing. I don’t think the dream device in Mulholland Dr. is a gimmick, because it deepens the psychological resonance of what we see rather than reducing it to a parlor trick.
That makes a lot of sense, and admittedly my reaction here was somewhat kneejerk, and it seems like we’re really after the same thing. But in referring to the vocabulary of dreams, and of how we deal with them in a day-to-day way, don’t we encourage dismissing the first half of the film in the same way that we’re forced to dismiss half-memories of dreams many mornings? I’m just not sure how helpful thinking of it in that way is, especially since we’re all so familiar with how we’ve come to think of them (‘it was only a dream’ etc.)
Regarding devices and gimmicks, you’re absolutely right. I completely agree.
But I should add what we’re really talking about here, the way we’re framing it, it’s almost semantics. Is it still a structural interpretation of the film? I mean, I don’t know. I do think we might be saying the same thing in different ways.
Yes, I think so too – especially after having a similar conversation with a friend of mine last night, about the movie.
The best way I can put it in this: in saying the first half is a dream, I don’t mean to dismiss it but to strengthen it – to say that if the last third is the “literal” reality than the first half is the deeper, psychic reality, even (maybe especially) inasmuch as it’s evasion. But that’s coming from someone who is utterly fascinated with dreams and dream-worlds – I think some of the most memorable experiences in my life have been in dreams!
Brilliant views here by Donophon, Joel, Bob and Dave!
I’ll be intrigued to see seven films that are better than this one, The New World, and The Assassination of Jesse James. I agree with Allan’s closing summary:
“This truly is a love letter to L.A. written in poison which, for me, even beats Blue Velvet as his greatest achievement.”
It’s not even close for me, Mulholland Drive is my favorite (and in my very biased opinion the best) film from Lynch.
Aye Dave. Allan has certainly teased many here, but in the end his positioning will show his typical authoritative grasp of the cinematic landscape.
WOW!!!!! I’m ecstatic at the slot this film was given (I’d have been even happier if it didn’t make the count at all… But, we can’t get everything we wish for….). As cryptic a film as David Lynch has ever made, probably just as supremely boring as well. After four viewings of this movie to decipher what the hell it’s all about (and those that like this film LOVE this film), I finally said “fuck it, its not worth the time” and put on a porn DVD.
Maybe it’s me. Maybe I just don’t get what all the hub-bubb is all about… But, for my money, this film is as close to taking an overdose of sleeping pills with alcohol as you can get without taking an overdose of sleeping pills with alcohol. LOL!!!!!!!
Anyway. It’s not fair for me to rain on the fans of this films parade. I’ll shut up and slide over to the MONDAY MORNING DIARY….
No. 8? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm…..
THE PLOT THICKENS…..
I’m kind of hoping Allan throws us a more-or-less obscure pick at #1 – a reprise of Eros + Massacre or Duelle for the 60s/70s – that might be the best wind-up the countdown could have.
Aye Joel, I would be surprised if there wasn’t a surprise at #1, though there are a few I know will be in that may fill that spot. It’s a tough call.
Hmmmm… I wonder if Allan has any use for ABOUT SCHMIDT which I consider Payne’s best film (and he’s an interesting director), WHITE RIBBON, or IN BRUGES. All are still in play. And 2046 has already been stated as almost a given.
I’ve also already checked off Woody Allen’s MATCH POINT, and ‘Éloge de l’Amour’ (Jean-Luc Godard). Films I recall Allan saying he didn’t like in the past.
2 films I adore and would love to see are ‘Alexandra’s Project’ (Rolf De Heer) and 25th HOUR (Spike Lee), but I won’t hold my breath. Should be fun!
About Scmidt is perfunctory enough, bu IN BRUGES, Jamie? In Bruges!!!! I know we’re in a Lynch thread, but we haven’t astrally projected onto a different planet called Mediocrity quite yet…
So you aren’t an IN BRUGES fan got it. I quite liked it.
Oh I quite liked it, but I quite liked Kingdom of Heaven or Drag me to Hell, doesn’t make either great cinema. In Bruges was a nice little film with three fun performances. End of.
Finally a film that actually deserves to be in the top ten. A masterpiece and easily one of the great film experiences ever. David Lynch is one of the few directors who understands the idea of dream logic (Bunuel, Resnais, and Welles also understood it) unlike other directors who just try their hardest to be weird (take for example Richard Kelly). The film also features what I believe is the female performance of the decade from Watts. I know many people, including myself, have been waiting for this masterpiece on the countdown and while it’s great to see it finally, I was hoping to see it in the top 5.
Hello Anu, and thanks as always for gracing this site with your stellar perceptions and exquisite taste. I have this film in my own Top 50, but I guess my appreciation for it is a bit less than most. Still, I’m expecting a very high placement for this film in the actual polling.
Our two resident geniuses have hijacked this post. To avoid feeling totally inadequate I’ll keep it simple…..I love this movie and I agree with MovieMan’s assessment of Lynch’s intent. The first two thirds is a fantasy that gets shattered with the reality of the ending. I just don’t see any other possible reading.
P.S…….How great is Naomi Watts in her rehearsal scene. If I considered the Oscars worth more than what generally resides in your standard landfill, I would say she deserved that stupid golden statue for that scene alone.
M-Ro – I’m with you all the way on Watts in that rehersal scene — an absolute triumph. Never seen anything like it.
I can’t connect to Lynch’s work, but this is probably his best that I’ve seen.
I recently purchased a used copy and will be viewing this at the end of the week.
Lost Highway/Inland Empire will follow once I find them.
No matter what, to think about anything going on after you’ve seen a film is most enticing, and Lynch continues to do that well.
Ok, Ok…. I understand the passion some have for this film… But, to say its his best???? C’mon. For as many people it turns on its cryptic nature turn off just as many. If there IS a masterpiece by this director, then its probably the one that even the nay-sayers of Lynch embrace as well… You know it… BLUE VELVET.
Sorry, Dennis, but Lynch devotees and many of them will disagree with you vehemently. Blue Velvet is what made him an arthouse director accepted by the mainstream, but many directors have been accepted for films that they previously or later surpassed (see Truffaut for LES QUATRE CENTS COUPS, see Godard for A BOUT DE SOUFFLE). Both French masters outdid those early breakthroughs, and so did Lynch. Blue Velvet is a conventional choice, Mulholland is the insider’s choice, the choice of those in the know.
Other ‘in the know picks’ LOST HIGHWAY and INLAND EMPIRE
This is tops for Lynch. I’m with Allan and the crew.
Blue Velvet does hold up exceedingly well on repeat views, though…I would probably put that third for Lynch.
1. Mulholland Drive
2. Blue Velvet
3. Lost Highway
That’s my take at least……
1: “Twin Peaks” & “Fire Walk With Me”
2: “Lost Highway”
3: “Eraserhead”
4: “Blue Velvet”
5: “Inland Empire”
6: “The Straight Story”
7: “Mulholland Drive”
8: Collected Short Films (especially “Cowboy and the Frenchman”, “Premonition Following an Evil Deed” & “Lady Blue Shanghai”)
9: “Dune”
10: “The Elephant Man”
“Wild At Heart”, I refuse to put on the list. I really dislike that movie.
To respond to you Allan… I say, fair enough.
I love this film, and most of Lynch. I thought this would place higher, and most of the heavy weights are now gone.
(God I hope we don’t see any Richard Kelly, though I think DONNIE DARKO was in the Nearlies)
I’m insane, Jamie, but not to that degree.
Thank God, I don’t understand the fanaticism around that film.
My sister, God bless her, adores that movie. And yet she has never even been curious about seeing Richard Kelly’s other movies. I think that says pretty much everything you need to know about the fan-base that movie was able to inspire– not the most dedicated lot, in the longterm.
I did enjoy “The Box”, though, for what it was worth.
All I have to say is that if this is Allan’s #8 and films like TWWB, NCFOM and THE NEW WORLD have already showed up….what in blue blazes is going to make up the next seven entries!?
Looking forward to plenty of surprises and frustration! Lots of arguments…egads…aghasts…WTF’s…and “I never even heard of that…what the hell are you thinking?”s.
You’ve outdone yourself I think this time, Allan!
I can’t wait to return to this thread, I love this film (it was #4 for this decade for me), but I saw it once in the theaters and once when it was new to DVD. I haven’t seen it since, so all I’ve offered this thread was rather limp dick responses. I’ve netflixed this film and bumped it to the top spot so I can revisit.
I can’t wait to jump into Joel’s and Bob fantastic discussion above…