Sarah Wood8
Active Member
95 messages
joined Aug 2007
I haven't seen Inland Empire yet, but this post caught my eye and made me want to check it out.
It looks like we’re debating David Lynch here. First off, I think it’s perfectly fine if you don't like David Lynch; honestly, that feels more authentic than some pretentious, hipster snob praising him just because they want to feel superior to the masses.
Look, I'm no film scholar, and I don't bother with critics, but I experience movies in my own way.
Whether people wrap their heads around his work or not, whether they dig it or hate it, Lynch is a genius.
The feeling I had—and probably a billion other people worldwide felt too—when Twin Peaks first hit the small screen back in 1990, is something money couldn't buy. From that moment on, my perception of the world, of people, and of life itself shifted. I saw a side of reality I didn't even know existed.
As a director, Lynch works primarily through an audio-visual sensory assault. He takes disconnected ideas and weaves them into a visceral experience, layering his specific worldview onto it, and then, as an afterthought, he adds the story. That’s how I see him.
He’s a genius because in a world where everything is forced into rigid matrices and rules designed to cater to our shallowest senses, Lynch suddenly shoves something in front of us that shocks and confuses us. If we don't get the point immediately, we dismiss him as a fraud or a charlatan using movies like endless labyrinths to manipulate us. I think a lot of people look for the "point" of his films in all the wrong places, searching within the very structures that make sense to them. It’s like trying to find God by staring at your own crap; it’s just not going to happen. Sure, Lynch uses tricks, but the issue isn't his incomprehensible structures; it's our hardwired human desire for everything—in life and in cinema—to have a neat beginning, middle, climax, and end.
If that’s what you’re looking for, stay away from Lynch, because he’s looking much further beyond that. Just as we’re conditioned to listen to pop songs with a verse, bridge, and chorus, we struggle to digest different musical structures, even though those exist in classical music or the work of inventive composers who aren't afraid to break stereotypes.
So, don't shut yourself off from experiencing a Lynch film, even if it’s just through the sheer impact of its atmosphere. To me, being unable to engage with him suggests a certain shallowness—the kind of viewer who would be much happier watching some mindless action trash starring Dolph Lundgren.
Regarding Mulholland Drive and some of his other works, I think part of the problem is that he doesn't have the opportunity to make series anymore, something he managed to pull off with Twin Peaks. If Twin Peaks had been just a movie, we probably wouldn't even know about it today. But due to outside pressures, he made the series accessible enough for the average viewer, allowing the ambiguities to be cleared up later.
If Mulholland Drive had been a series, things might have been much clearer and the plot could have followed a more traditional flow. I won't claim I fully understood MD, but the film pushed me to dig a little deeper to get at least a surface-level glimpse of what the author was aiming for. For me, it wasn't something I needed to "solve"; it was an experience, and providing an experience is what Lynch gives his audience. It’s like taking a trip to the Grand Canyon; afterward, you feel something profound, and if someone asks you what the "point" was, you wouldn't know how to answer, but you’d know you experienced something real. That’s Lynch. He doesn't want to provide shallow entertainment—not that shallow entertainment is bad—but rather, he wants to force the viewer out of the stereotypes they've been stuck with since birth.
I find the characters in Twin Peaks absolutely fascinating. At first glance, someone might say they’re just a bunch of eccentric or mentally unstable people, but Lynch doesn't feed us that fake, one-dimensional caricature. He doesn't serve us the garbage that most other directors hand out on a silver platter; instead, he shows us people exactly as they truly are. We see their states of mind, their dreams, their quirks, and their fears. He shows us exactly what we discover after we've actually spent time getting to know someone. There are no fake heroes, no saints, and no pure villains—just ordinary human souls with all the madness we all carry in our heads, making up the psychological fabric of the world. To someone emotionally stunted, these characters might seem unreal, or perhaps some people have simply never met anyone real enough to realize that people REALLY ARE LIKE THIS. That is one of Lynch's magics, among many others.
That’s just how I see his style, and it doesn't have to be the definitive word—not even from Lynch himself. But the guy definitely wants us to sit there and really chew on what we're seeing and feeling.
Plus, you won't find any cheap jump scares from Lynch, like some zombie popping out of a closet or mindless gore. Instead, he gets under your skin by building this heavy sense of dread through specific settings, moody lighting, and soundscapes that just make you feel uneasy while you wait for something to happen.
And we can't overlook Badalamenti; his brilliant, original scores are what really drive home that constant paranoia, mystery, and the haunting beauty found in Lynchian cinema.
As for The Straight Story—absolute genius. It's one of his most accessible and moving pieces. Funnily enough, the actor playing the old man actually took his own life a while after the movie came out because he was battling cancer.