Inland Empire by David Lynch

I see three distinct categories of cinema. First, there’s the standard fare we all know—beginning, middle, end. It’s the typical product churned out whether you're in the US, Europe, or Asia. The mold is always the same. Then you have the experimenters, where the most significant representative of the genre is Peter Greenaway. He argues that standard movies are essentially just "illustrated text," so he crafts these incredibly lush visual escapades disguised as high art. These standard films remind me of sitting in a train compartment, trying to make sense of the scenery passing by, but it’s impossible because the train is flying past; before your synapses can even fire, your station arrives and you're gone. Greenaway’s films feel somewhat similar, except it feels like the train is just idling and refuses to move. Not even a nudge. Not even God will move it. Then, right in the middle, there’s Mr. Lynch. With him, the train moves at a specific speed and rhythm where everything feels perfectly aligned. And the best part? You barely understand what's happening, yet you're enjoying it. You know you're having a good time, but you don't give a damn why. It doesn't matter. You're doing fine, and you don't want it to stop. You just want "your" station to cease to exist.

Inland Empire is everything Lynch is, and everything we've come to expect from him. And yet, it’s something totally new and bizarre. There is so much to process that I don't think I'll need to watch another movie for at least a year. Or so I thought. Because this film has it all—tragedy, drama, schizophrenia, psychedelia, comedy, and sketches. The way it manipulates montage, space, and time makes Memento look like child's play. It has horror, it has blood, and it has scenes that stay with you forever. Especially that first viewing.

There's really no point discussing the plot, because grasping it would probably require another three viewings and maybe twenty pages of debate on the forum. What actually fascinates me is how he manages to pull 200% out of every single character. And the dialogue... I don't want to sound like a snob, but I have to say... the guy was practically operating the camera himself (looking at the crew listing), and I already have the feeling I know which scenes he shot personally. And finally, the soundtrack is perfection, as usual.

Phenomenal and genius. I guess...

What do I know? Lynch was on an incredible upward trajectory from the late eighties through the mid-nineties—specifically looking at the relationship between Blue Velvet - Lost Highway—and everything he produced during that stretch
was nothing short of flawless. He reached his absolute zenith with The Straight Story, where he demonstrated
exactly what kind of director he is: a master. Then came Mulholland Drive, which was originally intended to be a series, but didn't quite make it... yet it turned out to be this unforgettable, chaotic mess that I rushed to see in theaters. It felt pointless, especially when people start claiming there are 19 different keys
to unlocking the plot, supposedly hidden on the DVD extras... Honestly, thank you, but I have far more important things to do with my life. A film shouldn't be some complex gadget that requires an instruction manual just to function.
Consequently, I find myself quite skeptical regarding the new Lynch, as it feels as though all this surrealism he employs is merely a way to flaunt his status rather than being true art.
It isn't the art itself.
Eraserhead is a masterpiece.

Tyler Sanchez said:What do I know? Lynch was on an incredible upward trajectory from the late eighties through the mid-nineties—specifically looking at the relationship between Blue Velvet - Lost Highway—and everything he produced during that stretch
was nothing short of flawless. He reached his absolute zenith with The Straight Story, where he demonstrated
exactly what kind of director he is: a master. Then came Mulholland Drive, which was originally intended to be a series, but didn't quite make it... yet it turned out to be this unforgettable, chaotic mess that I rushed to see in theaters. It felt pointless, especially when people start claiming there are 19 different keys
to unlocking the plot, supposedly hidden on the DVD extras... Honestly, thank you, but I have far more important things to do with my life. A film shouldn't be some complex gadget that requires an instruction manual just to function.
Consequently, I find myself quite skeptical regarding the new Lynch, as it feels as though all this surrealism he employs is merely a way to flaunt his status rather than being true art.
It isn't the art itself.
Eraserhead is a masterpiece.

And you can't even handle a simple gadget without instructions? It figures.

Jessica Nguyen85 said:I see three distinct categories of cinema. First, there’s the standard fare we all know—beginning, middle, end. It’s the typical product churned out whether you're in the US, Europe, or Asia. The mold is always the same. Then you have the experimenters, where the most significant representative of the genre is Peter Greenaway. He argues that standard movies are essentially just "illustrated text," so he crafts these incredibly lush visual escapades disguised as high art. These standard films remind me of sitting in a train compartment, trying to make sense of the scenery passing by, but it’s impossible because the train is flying past; before your synapses can even fire, your station arrives and you're gone. Greenaway’s films feel somewhat similar, except it feels like the train is just idling and refuses to move. Not even a nudge. Not even God will move it. Then, right in the middle, there’s Mr. Lynch. With him, the train moves at a specific speed and rhythm where everything feels perfectly aligned. And the best part? You barely understand what's happening, yet you're enjoying it. You know you're having a good time, but you don't give a damn why. It doesn't matter. You're doing fine, and you don't want it to stop. You just want "your" station to cease to exist.

Inland Empire is everything Lynch is, and everything we've come to expect from him. And yet, it’s something totally new and bizarre. There is so much to process that I don't think I'll need to watch another movie for at least a year. Or so I thought. Because this film has it all—tragedy, drama, schizophrenia, psychedelia, comedy, and sketches. The way it manipulates montage, space, and time makes Memento look like child's play. It has horror, it has blood, and it has scenes that stay with you forever. Especially that first viewing.

There's really no point discussing the plot, because grasping it would probably require another three viewings and maybe twenty pages of debate on the forum. What actually fascinates me is how he manages to pull 200% out of every single character. And the dialogue... I don't want to sound like a snob, but I have to say... the guy was practically operating the camera himself (looking at the crew listing), and I already have the feeling I know which scenes he shot personally. And finally, the soundtrack is perfection, as usual.

Phenomenal and genius. I guess...

Who do I have to kill to get my hands on a copy of this film?

...Jessica Nguyen85, you’re honestly a menace... you always show up here peddling some movie I’ve been dying to see, insisting it’s a total masterpiece 😍 (I still remember that same routine with Prestige, which was just the last 🙂 )... and then I end up completely worked up, wanting to sprint to the theater immediately—even if I have to admit I'll probably never reach that level where I'm actually sitting down with Lynch on ti 😵—but here in the States, it won't even hit our local theaters for months 😢

...we just want Lynch 🙂

Tyler Sanchez said:What do I know? Lynch was on an incredible upward trajectory from the late eighties through the mid-nineties—specifically looking at the relationship between Blue Velvet - Lost Highway—and everything he produced during that stretch
was nothing short of flawless. He reached his absolute zenith with The Straight Story, where he demonstrated
exactly what kind of director he is: a master. Then came Mulholland Drive, which was originally intended to be a series, but didn't quite make it... yet it turned out to be this unforgettable, chaotic mess that I rushed to see in theaters. It felt pointless, especially when people start claiming there are 19 different keys
to unlocking the plot, supposedly hidden on the DVD extras... Honestly, thank you, but I have far more important things to do with my life. A film shouldn't be some complex gadget that requires an instruction manual just to function.
Consequently, I find myself quite skeptical regarding the new Lynch, as it feels as though all this surrealism he employs is merely a way to flaunt his status rather than being true art.
It isn't the art itself.
Eraserhead is a masterpiece.

I’m with you there. There's something really interesting about watching a singular genius move through their own cognitive phases and evolutions. But when you say "upward trajectory," I think you're talking about him finding his own sense of purpose, his specific lens, his unique way of expressing things—all that stuff. *Eraserhead* is pure experimentalism, so it's naturally a bit rough around the edges. Even *Blue Velvet* feels somewhat raw (not that I'm saying that takes anything away from it, obviously). Now that you have a fully realized artist who doesn't feel the need to prove himself to anyone, someone working purely out of passion without all that external pressure, you get these kinds of tour de force works. *Inland Empire* shares so much DNA with *Mulholland Drive*... the Hollywood scene, the stars, the directors and producers, the behind-the-scenes drama, the rising stars and the ones forgotten. It's this gorgeous chaos, a mess of disorder... let me try to put that into English...

I actually just stumbled upon a great comment over on IMDb... it was incredibly concise and pretty much captured my exact feeling, though they managed to actually string it into coherent sentences:

Inland Empire is the Man with a Movie Camera of the 21st Century. It is the most experimental, surreal, and technically brilliant film I may have ever seen. Lynch proves that all he needs is a simple DV camera to show the world the entire range of human emotions and the human experience from the happiest to the darkest moments we must go through to achieve salvation and cleansing of the soul. This film is not so much about a particular story or narrative as it is about analyzing, exploring, and creating a visual palette for ideas about traveling to and from the past, present, and future as it relates to our constant journey back and forth into our own psyches and our collective unconscious. Each of Lynch's films explores the mind in terms of Jungian philosophy, focusing particularly on the shadow; however, Inland Empire goes further in this direction than any film previous to it. If Mulholland Drive was 25% a dark and surreal suspense thriller ghost story and journey into the nether regions of the mind and 75% classical, yet not necessarily structural or connected narrative, Inland Empire is 10% straight narrative and 90% raw psychological horror ghost story.

The journey is long and hard but at the end you will be rewarded with the kind of peace and serenity that can only come from a meditation this long, deep, and powerful. I was filled with only inner bliss as I left the theatre and slept like a baby, completely at peace. This is David Lynch's most powerful film and speaks volumes on the many unexplored topics of how this medium can communicate, terrify, and heal in ways we have not yet even begun to understand.

http://imdb.com/title/tt0460829/

I don't know—after sitting with it for a while, I’ve actually come to the conclusion that Lynch just plain gets under my skin with his movies. Here’s how it usually plays out: You start watching. It’s a solid opening. There's tension. There's mystery. And you haven't understood a single damn thing. But you're still hooked. You think to yourself, "Okay, I'll figure this out by the end." Then the credits roll. And you're just sitting there wondering—is it me? Am I just being dense, or am I supposed to watch this three more times just to grasp the plot? Honestly, screw you, Lynch. 🙂

Jessica Nguyen85 As specified by:
I find myself in agreement. There is something profoundly compelling about watching a singular genius navigate their own cognitive evolutions and shifts in perspective. When you speak of an "upward trajectory," aren't you essentially describing the pursuit of one's own purpose, vision, and unique voice? Even if we consider Eraserhead to be a purely experimental work—and thus naturally rough around the edges—it remains vital. Even Blue Velvet possesses a certain raw quality to it, though I certainly don't mean to diminish its impact. Now that we are witnessing a fully realized artist who no longer feels the need to prove himself to anyone, someone who creates simply out of necessity rather than external pressure, what do we get? We get the perfect marriage of maturity and imagination. A true tour de force. There is an undeniable resonance between Inland Empire and Mulholland Drive. Both seem to dwell within that same orbit of Hollywood—the glitz of the stars, the power plays of directors and producers, and all that messy, whispered gossip happening just out of sight. They capture the entire cycle of the industry: the hungry newcomers clawing their way up, the legends being cast aside, and those who somehow manage to rise from the ashes. It’s a portrait of beautiful chaos, a swirling vortex of disorder and madness.

I couldn't agree more. It brings to mind a situation from my high school days when a group of friends started a band and swore up and down they would never go commercial. They eventually released a cassette through an indie label and managed to sell a few dozen copies. But really, if you manage to sell even a single copy, haven't you already crossed that line into being commercial? This is exactly the kind of illustration I'm talking about.
I remember sitting there, eyes glued to the television, back in the early nineties when Twin Peaks was quite literally the biggest thing on the planet. It was during those years that Lynch successfully marketed his unique cultural vision to the masses.
And this high-profile piece of art is presented to everyone, yet for someone like me—a young grunge enthusiast just trying to find my footing—who actually understands its weight?
I can't help but wonder if my mother—a woman who has spent her entire life dedicated to the quiet rhythms of being a housewife—would find herself lost in a scene like a party hosted by Bobby Briggs? He is...
Having achieved success by staying true to his own singular vision, Twin Peaks remains a series defined by its refusal to compromise—surreal, haunting, and utterly unforgettable. Since then, he has maintained that same uncompromising creative voice, yet the massive commercial breakthroughs have eluded him, a fact that seems to have left him frustrated for the last fifteen years. I suspect the same thing happened with Inland Empire, particularly when you consider the hurdles regarding distribution and the business side of things. It is notoriously difficult to function as a true artist in cinema, given that it is arguably the most expensive form of art there is; unfortunately, once the patrons lose patience, they rarely offer forgiveness.

I find myself respecting him today, quite simply because of everything you’ve pointed out—his integrity, his vision, and that unmistakable sense of character.
I just don't love him anymore.

What are your thoughts on Lynch's approach in The Straight Story?

Do those famous rabbits show up in Inland Empire?

David Keith Lynch and his body of work. A lot of people will probably claim his stuff is just some kind of mental gymnastics, but honestly, that conclusion usually comes from people who simply don't grasp what's actually unfolding on screen. I feel like I have to pull a Nietzsche quote out here: "Once something becomes clear, it ceases to be of interest to us." And that's precisely the point—Lynch is such a singular figure that I don't even view him as just a director; he's an auteur, a cinematic painter. To me, the sheer weirdness and eccentricity of his films feel like a carefree, surreal dream (personally, I find even his nightmares beautiful). It’s one of those "try doing this yourself if you think it's so easy" situations. Regardless, Lynch has already cemented his legend status by proving with Mulholland Drive that he can leave the "regular folks" behind after showing them with The Straight Story that he actually knows how to command a camera.
Lynch is this unique synesthete who keeps all of Hollywood and the entire American film industry feeling like a pebble in his shoe, essentially tormenting the establishment with the raw energy found in Mulholland Drive. Just as Tarkovsky had that profound, intuitive connection to the spiritual, religious, and the natural world, Lynch possesses an unparalleled instinct for the bizarre and the uncanny. You see it in everything from his casting choices to the atmosphere itself—like how Sheryl Lee manages to look hauntingly beautiful in his other works, or the presence of the great Jack Nance, or the way Isabella Rossellini's nakedness in Blue Velvet feels so visceral and unsettling.

Now, regarding Inland Empire. Everything I've seen so far—the clips, the trailers, the shots of Grace Zabriskie looking absolutely unhinged, the photos, the discussions—it has all just ramped up my anticipation and impatience. My only real frustration is the scheduling; apparently, it's playing in Austria this March, while it was running in Slovakia back in mid-January. We aren't even on the schedule here, and I am dying to catch this on the big screen in a theater.

Did I hear that correctly on the radio? Is this actually coming to theaters?
😕

Brenda Smith said:Did I hear that correctly on the radio? Is this actually coming to theaters?
😕

There was a press screening last week. He could be in tomorrow.

Wonderful, just wonderful
I'm heading to the movie theater
🍿

That sounds like a plan. If anyone finds out what's playing at the local cinema, please give us a heads-up here.
🎉 😍

Heading over to the Broadway theater tomorrow...
Woohoo!

It takes about three hours, and then they just give it once a day at 9:00 PM.
🙄
I mean, I really hope it stays on the schedule for more than a week.

So, read a review earlier today in National (in 🙄) just to see what's coming. Skimmed through it and honestly... it’s a pretty rough write-up. Feels like someone is just guessing, acting like they actually watched the movie or knew how it should look, drawing these weird lines between the director and David Fincher's style and where a director's path goes. They even started spoiling parts of the plot, which shouldn't happen in a decent review, but whatever—I don't count this as a real review anyway. Rating was probably a 3/5, though more like a critique than a review. Honestly, you could use that magazine and their film reviews as coasters for your coffee to keep it off the table. Or maybe if you're incredibly forgetful, use it to check a director's name or credits, but I doubt anyone that forgetful would care about David Lynch and his work. Anyway, since I've moved on from that text, it's time to look ahead and speculate based on Lynch's previous stuff. It looks like we're getting that non-modernist Lynch style again. We all know our David shifted gears a bit starting with Mulholland Dr. and who knows when he'll stop or pivot to something totally different. If we aren't talking about quality, I'm hoping for something a bit clearer than the talk around Mulholland Dr. and the fact that Lost Highway wasn't mentioned—I haven't even seen that one yet, embarrassingly. Hopefully, it's as clear as possible, because I don't think they intend to keep us trapped in paranoia for three hours like they did during MD or LH. Three hours is plenty of time for Mr. Lynch to throw us into a spiral of paranoia before pulling us out, otherwise we'll just be stuck in a loop. The subgenres for Inland Empire should be mystery, thriller, and psychedelia (maybe some mystical horror stress too, since we're talking Lynchian psychedelia 😍), and there's mention of some humor to lighten things up, but I bet Lynch just wants to trip us up so we can't follow the threads. As for quality, I'm not expecting anything. Expectations usually lead to disappointment, and meeting them isn't something that satisfies me; I don't live by expectations. I just want them to give us David Lynch 🙂 😍

Offtopic: someone brought up Peter Greenway as a director within the Lynchian canon, but I've seen a couple of his works and I'll say it without hesitation: he's a potential candidate for this kind of stuff, but in his film (I remember 8 ½ Women), I saw nothing but attempts rather than actual realization. It felt more like imitating Lynch than anything serious, so don't try to change my mind. 🙂

P.S. I think it's time I file a complaint with the local city council because there's still no sign of a theater opening here. 😠Have mercy, fellow cinephiles 😢

Lynch and I share a few similar interests when it comes to math🙂

It goes without saying, we're definitely going

Jessica Nguyen85 said:I see three distinct categories of cinema. First, there’s the standard fare we all know—beginning, middle, end. It’s the typical product churned out whether you're in the US, Europe, or Asia. The mold is always the same. Then you have the experimenters, where the most significant representative of the genre is Peter Greenaway. He argues that standard movies are essentially just "illustrated text," so he crafts these incredibly lush visual escapades disguised as high art. These standard films remind me of sitting in a train compartment, trying to make sense of the scenery passing by, but it’s impossible because the train is flying past; before your synapses can even fire, your station arrives and you're gone. Greenaway’s films feel somewhat similar, except it feels like the train is just idling and refuses to move. Not even a nudge. Not even God will move it. Then, right in the middle, there’s Mr. Lynch. With him, the train moves at a specific speed and rhythm where everything feels perfectly aligned. And the best part? You barely understand what's happening, yet you're enjoying it. You know you're having a good time, but you don't give a damn why. It doesn't matter. You're doing fine, and you don't want it to stop. You just want "your" station to cease to exist.

Inland Empire is everything Lynch is, and everything we've come to expect from him. And yet, it’s something totally new and bizarre. There is so much to process that I don't think I'll need to watch another movie for at least a year. Or so I thought. Because this film has it all—tragedy, drama, schizophrenia, psychedelia, comedy, and sketches. The way it manipulates montage, space, and time makes Memento look like child's play. It has horror, it has blood, and it has scenes that stay with you forever. Especially that first viewing.

There's really no point discussing the plot, because grasping it would probably require another three viewings and maybe twenty pages of debate on the forum. What actually fascinates me is how he manages to pull 200% out of every single character. And the dialogue... I don't want to sound like a snob, but I have to say... the guy was practically operating the camera himself (looking at the crew listing), and I already have the feeling I know which scenes he shot personally. And finally, the soundtrack is perfection, as usual.

Phenomenal and genius. I guess...

Honestly, it’s just completely nonsensical—it feels restrictive, a little bit lazy, and frankly, a tad crazy to try and pigeonhole cinema into "standard," "experimental," and then "Lynchian." It’s pretty hard to take a movie review seriously when it kicks off with a claim like that; it just screams a lack of understanding regarding the art of filmmaking. Don't get me wrong, Lynch is a brilliant director, but at the end of the day, he's really just a master of atmosphere.

I caught a screening today. To be honest, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it yet—it was good, certainly, but I think it’ll grow on me much more once I've had a few months to sit with it. The soundtrack is absolutely phenomenal. However, you have to be prepared; the plot is significantly more complex than *Mulholland Drive*, and you really need to settle in for the full three-hour ride. Is it worth the endurance test? I suspect so.
Is there anything more iconic than the onscreen chemistry between Laura Dern and Grace Zabriskie? They both possess such a unique ability to bring depth and a certain haunting quality to a scene. It really makes you wonder how many other legendary pairings we have yet to see in American cinema. 🙏 🙏 🙏
That scene on the street with the homeless folks and that little girl? Honestly, it’s probably one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen. 😁
You absolutely have to check this out. It's a must-watch!