Mulholland Drive (2001)
Mulholland Drive is a David Lynch film that takes place in Los Angeles, which instantly makes it interesting. Lynch is not exactly your typical Hollywood director, but here his characters are, getting into accidents on Mulholland Drive and running around Sunset Blvd. But this real life industrial relationship is far from the most interesting thing about this film. Mulholland Drive is one of the most complexing and ambiguous films you could see, and luckily its complicated story is made into an enjoyment through incredible filmmaking.
After some 50s dancing by colorfully backlit silhouettes and a shot of a bed prefacing the very dreamlike film ahead, we begin with a car crash leaving Laura Harring stranded and walking through Los Angeles. She eventually teams up with Naomi Watts, a naive newcomer to the city hoping to become a movie star. The two try to figure out what happened to Harring, who has amnesia, while a director played by Justin Theroux struggle with control over his picture.
That description makes the film sound as though it has a normal narrative. In reality, the movie includes several seemingly disconnected episodes that either follow one of the two storylines, or something entirely unrelated. One memorable scene early on helps establish the tone of the film and nothing else. Patrick Fischler tells a story of a recurring nightmare that is subsequently slowly realized. An instance of terror that he experiences behind a restaurant by the dumpster is intense, with Lynch masterfully manipulating the audio to make us experience Fischler’s shocked and muffled perception.
Lynch just knows how to make a film produce the feelings he wants. This movie is very suspenseful and mysterious, with a foreboding sense of danger always surrounding the characters. Lynch accomplishes this sometimes using very simple devices, like switching between a character’s subjective point of view and a very restricted look at them as they walk, giving us only the narrowest sense of their surrounding and fearful of it being penetrated at any second. Other times he uses unsettlingly fast forward trucking shots that whip us from a more complete view of what’s going on back to that same limited vision. In the same name of ambiguity, some shot fall out of focus, giving our eyes the same kind of difficulty that the plot gives our brains.
Many elements of the story accompany the filmmaking technique to make this movie dreary. Justin Theroux’s storyline shows the oppressive influence of mysterious powerful figures. It plays out somewhat as an attack on the Hollywood system, where creativity and directorial control can be overtaken by business deals or nepotism. Michael J. Anderson is appropriately eerie as a dwarf at the top of the line of power, and Lafayette Montgomery puts in one of the most memorable (and one of my personal favorite) roles of all time as the Cowboy, a very mysterious figure who commands conversations with ease and appreciates good manners.
The best performances are the leads, however. Naomi Watts is especially impressive. She initially plays Betty, a saccharine sweetheart who has come to watch over her (very bizarre) aunt’s house in Hollywood. Betty is creepily wholesome and cheery, evocative of a naive optimism that probably constituted many young girl’s outlooks in the days of the classical Hollywood studio era. At first you may be led to believe that this is all Watts is capable of, but she destroys that notion during a scene where she auditions for a role. It’s powerfully erotic and a mind-blowing turn from a character that you thought you knew entirely.
After most of the movie follows the convincingly amnesic Harring and Watts as “Rita” and Betty respectively, it takes a surreal turn and seemingly pops the audience out in another universe, one where Watts now plays a disillusioned victim of the Hollywood system named Diane Selwyn, and Harring plays her rising star girlfriend who is manipulative and cruel. It’s in this alternative dimension that Justin Theroux finally connects with Harring and Watts’ storyline, as his seemingly unchanged director character becomes a source of ultimate tension between Harring and Watts’ new characters.
The fact that both of these actresses can take on two different roles in one film is praiseworthy enough, but again, Watts is stand-out since her second role is a polar opposite of her first. It’s almost hard to believe that it’s the same actress commanding both of these presences, but it is and she does it amazingly in a role pretty early on in her career.
One of the last scenes in the original storyline is when Watts and Harring visit a late-night show at Club Silencio. An opera singer is allowed to dominate the film for a considerable amount of time, long enough for us to forget the surrounding narrative and become entranced by her performance. Just when it’s been so long, she faints and her singing continues without her. It’s only one of the many interesting and surreal ways that Lynch plays with reality in this film.
Lynch has actually declined to ever fully explain the meaning of this film and its seemingly at-odds storylines. The general consensus among viewers is that the original story is a dream that Watts’ character Diane concocts as a way to escape her miserable and (soon enough) guilt-ridden life. Betty represents who she once was, or maybe who she never was but wants to be, a wide-eyed delight who is a ridiculously talented actress. Harring plays who she wishes her lover would be, a fun and trustworthy companion who is dependent on Watts because of her amnesia.
In this sense, the film is ultimately tragic, and it’s only appropriate for the film’s dark and sinister tone that pervades it throughout. It’s a film that will give you an opportunity to think, and it could be discussed for hours with intelligent and interested fans. Even though it’s difficult to make sense of, the film is entertaining and driven by great performances, from the lead actresses to the minor characters who all play in unison in the same off-key way. It’s an unmatchable foray into surrealism, and deals with delightfuly Lynchian themes of power, industry, and diving into the unconsciousness that makes up dreams. Mulholland Drive is a masterpiece that all but matches the perfection that Lynch found in Eraserhead.
Final rating: 9.5/10
–James A. Janisse
Eraserhead (1977)
After watching Dune as my first David Lynch film, I realized that he might best be approached in a chronological fashion. So I rented Eraserhead, Lynch’s first feature film, and sat down to watch it. I of course knew of Lynch’s reputation as a filmmaker, but no amount of reading or talking about him could prepare me for the surrealist and grotesque nightmare that is Eraserhead.
After a very strange intro that’s symbolic of either conception or birth, we are introduced to the world of Henry Spencer, our hapless protagonist. Henry’s played by Jack Nance, who plays our hero with a great combination of awkwardness, naivete, and gentleness. This temperament is necessary for Henry, who encounters a number of strange things in the world in which he lives.
It turns out Henry has impregnated a girl, and she’s given premature birth to a very strange and unsettling baby. This deformed offspring, which consists of little more than an egg-shaped head and a limbless, tail-like torso, becomes the driving device in Lynch’s experimental narrative. I’m not sure if the baby was anything more than a puppet, but whatever it is, it succeeds in being creepy and distressing enough to center Henry’s surrealist problems around.
The whole film is like that baby: creepy and distressing. I find it pretty funny that this movie was Lynch’s reaction to the news that he was going to be a father. A bizarre feeling permeates the story from start to finish. Filmed in black and white with a big emphasis on shadows and dark lighting, every formal aspect of the movie plays into its tone. Besides the lighting, there’s also a strong focus on sound.
Henry is never given a moment of peace, as there is always background noise throughout the movie. Whether it’s hissing or the baby’s nerve-racking cries, there is never a mute moment. Sometimes, as with the crying, the sound is strictly abrasive. Other times it goes further and moves us to nausea in its grossness – there’s moments where suckling and gushing sound effects are so intense that you may want to cover your ears. Sound is one of those things that often falls flat in the realm of independent movies, so it’s impressive that Lynch is able to use it so powerfully and effectively in his first and obviously independent film.
The film’s story is strange and doesn’t make sense like a standard narrative. But even if you’re someone who focuses on story, the sequences strung together by our hero’s misfortunes and dreams should be interesting enough to entertain you for the short duration of the film. The scene where Henry visits his “baby” mama and finds out about the birth is filled with dark humor and feelings of sympathy for Henry. Vignettes including a disfigured man pulling levers and a slightly less disfigured woman on a theatrical stage. She sings a haunting song, “In Heaven Everything is Fine”, that will probably begrudgingly stick in your head after you finish the film. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the sultry and seductive neighbor, whose close-ups penetrate you and make you desire exactly what Henry awkwardly receives.
Eraserhead launched Lynch’s career, and it’s not hard to see why. It’s one of the most original and thoroughly grotesque movies I’ve ever seen, and I was into every single scene, down to the explosively weird ending. I like to rate movies for what they are, because films like animations and comedies shouldn’t be forced to compare directly to masterful dramas. As far as dark, experimental, surreal films goes, Eraserhead is perfect. If you are interested in any of those three types of films, then there is simply no excuse for not seeing Eraserhead.
Final rating: 10/10
–James A. Janisse
Dune (1984)
Going into this movie for me was like jumping in the middle of World War II with a sword and shield. My preparation was woefully inadequate. Not only had I never read the evidently dense Frank Herbert novel and thus was entirely unfamiliar with the story, I had also never seen a David Lynch film before. To be honest, I don’t feel as though I can legitimately review this film, but knowing that there are probably other viewers of this film who enter under the same conditions, I’m going to review it from that perspective, for them.
It is indeed an unfortunate perspective to see Dune from. The world of Dune is obviously very developed and complex. This type of epic, populated by an enormous amount of strangely named characters, simply fails to transfer to the screen. Without any background knowledge for all the political turmoil going about, it’s very hard to keep up with on a first time viewing.
If the movie confuses you, you’ll get no sympathy from it at all. It is mercilessly serious; the film marches forward stoically and indifferently, telling its story and offering no light moments of air. There are no moments of tenderness, no instances of humor, and I may be remembering unfairly, but possibly not a single smile in the entirety of the near 3 hour film. The film feels less like entertainment and more like actually reading a novel – it demands your attention entirely, which still might not be enough to understand it.
People often cite the visual effects of the film as a major strength. To be certain, there are many uses of make-up and costumes, as well as a fair population of interesting and well-made creatures. Unfortunately, many of the larger special effects look dated. Considering that the film was made after the entire original trilogy of Star Wars, and that it actually went over budget by a considerable amount, it’s disappointing to see some of the results. There are poorly done projected backgrounds, such as when the hero hides from a sandworm. Also, despite the awesome idea behind the block suits, the implementation now seems almost comical in how primitive the effects look.
I realize that there is a lot of history behind the making of this film. David Lynch is certainly a more experimental and independent filmmaker, and he was placed at the helm of this large sci-fi blockbuster. In addition, the source material is very intense and could probably never be compacted to a three hour film. From a perspective blind to Lynch’s work and the epic story, however, none of these things matter, and what they get is a movie that takes itself far too seriously and doesn’t look nearly good enough to make up for its befuddling story.
I fully intend to watch this movie at a later time, when I have familiarized myself better with Lynch, and even possibly read the Frank Herbert novel. However, until then, these are my feelings about Dune.
Final rating: 3/10
–James A. Janisse
