Shadowy Man

When I first saw the movie, I thought it was pretentious garbage.

But it kept me up at night thinking about it, and now I think I actually like it.

There were a few scenes that were just so poignant - like the woman singing in the theater.

I should probably see it again.

Genghis Pwn

I would suggest it, Shadowy Man.

Jesse

beastmaster:
IMO, the whole movie is an intersubjective dream.

There is a dream, but no dreamer.

No one wakes up.

fando:
I concur with this interpretation, or something close to it. The best interpretation I read so far was this one in Salon.

The Salon article seems to endorse the most common explanation, that the scenes at the end with Diane and Camille were real while the earlier part of the movie with Betty and Rita was all a dream/fantasy of Diane's. I'd like to hear more about beastmaster's interpretation though, since the "first part = Diane's dream, second part = reality" interpretation always seemed a little too neat for me.

fando

I'd like to hear more about beastmaster's interpretation though, since the "first part = Diane's dream, second part = reality" interpretation always seemed a little too neat for me.

It's hard to dismiss the notion that Diane repurposed things she saw in the last moments of her life into a wistful dream of her own. The Cowboy, the waitress, Coco, the book, etc. were all seen at the party at the end of the movie or thereabouts. It's easy to see how the whole movie was from Diane's perspective, from the eagerness to 'start over' in her dream alter ego Betty and the dream rationalization for the director's motives, and perhaps even the creepy way she foreordains her death when Rita discovers the corpse.

Jesse

fando:
It's hard to dismiss the notion that Diane repurposed things she saw in the last moments of her life into a wistful dream of her own. The Cowboy, the waitress, Coco, the book, etc. were all seen at the party at the end of the movie or thereabouts. It's easy to see how the whole movie was from Diane's perspective, from the eagerness to 'start over' in her dream alter ego Betty and the dream rationalization for the director's motives, and perhaps even the creepy way she foreordains her death when Rita discovers the corpse.

I agree that this interpretation does make sense of a lot of things, but like I said it just seems a little too neat for me. How can we be sure the party scene was real and not a dream, for example? It seemed to have a fairly dreamlike air to me (as did the scene with Diane watching Adam and Camilla on the movie set), although that could just be Lynch's style. And about that corpse--if it was just a dream, does that mean Diane somehow saw into her own future? What was with the scene where the cowboy came in and said "Hey, pretty girl, time to wake up"? Another thing is that on the DVD insert Lynch gives us "10 Clues to Unlocking This Thriller", and although he might not be completely serious about this, a few of his clues don't seem to be entirely explained by the "Diane's dream" interpretation:

For example, what was the significance of the red lampshade, which appeared both at the beginning when there was that chain of phone calls about the woman in the car wreck, and at the end when Diane got a call from Camilla about the party? Why does it matter where Aunt Ruth was? Who was that man behind Winkies--just a sort of symbol of Diane's guilt, or something more?

fando

Jesse, is that the special edition DVD? Hmm.. gotta watch it again.

Jesse

Not sure if it was a special edition, I've only seen one edition of the movie...but the "10 clues" were on the paper insert of the DVD.

Hedwig

Wow...now the movie is actually starting to make sense. I must have stared at the TV completely dumbfounded for about twenty minutes after watching that movie. And it was actually more comprehensible than several of Lynch's other films.

Sharif

Excerpts from a movie review that I agree with : [url=http://www.bigempire.com/filthy/mulhollanddrive.html]Link[url]

In a way the start to middle of this movie is like the ending of Adaptation, except where Kaufman ridicules Hollywood, Lynch actually uses Hollywood and the common perceptions of it, including cliches (amnesia, real identity, naive girl travels to Hollywood to make it, gratuitous nudity, the behind the scences old guy with all the power calling the shots, etc.) to juxtapose it against its own underbelly in order to create a portrait. The portrait of the city is possibly perception vs. reality or just two sides of the same coin.

I loved the movie, especially how, as the reviewer above noted, Lynch uses the old boring devices as devices themselves.

elwoodblues

I only saw it once. My immediate reaction was one of disgust. After a year or so, I can see that it wasn't all that terrible. Far, far from the best movie I saw that year, but not the worst.

Here's something I wrote immediately after seeing it (a matter of hours later).

A Modest Proposal

Okay, here�s the deal.

I like complicated movies. I like the kind of movie that�s almost too hard to follow, too weird to understand. Almost too stylish to make sense. I like that. When I go into a theatre, and I know the movie will be like that, I�m all like �yeah, bring it!�

I�m down with weird. I�m up for nutzoid stuff that damned near doesn�t make sense because it�s so stylish or cool or aware of itself or whatever. I�m all about that kind of thing.

I sat down and watched Mulholland drive for two and a half hours tonight. I heard it was weird. I heard it was funky, far out, and fucked up. I said, �nice, I�m down.� I get to the theatre, and my chocolate is all melted. But that�s okay; I�m going to see a great movie, a movie that�s on most critic�s top ten lists. They sell water to me for a dollar in the lobby. But that�s okay; the movie�s free, and it�s going to be good.

Oh, god, my eyes are bleeding.

Look, let me set the picture for you.

I�m sitting in primo territory for me; I get there early and stake out my seat, middle of the theatre, about 1/3 back from the screen. I�m sitting there, happy as a damned clam. I�m grinning. I�m alone, and I�m grinning. People sat down by me eventually, but not when given a choice.

Oh, yeah, I�m alone. I decided not to even ask my girlfriend along, because I didn�t think she�d like it. And, if I was wrong, and she would like it, that�d be a good excuse to take her the next night. I�m pretty comfy in theatres all by myself; no biggie. And, in hindsight, it was a good decision. She�d have clawed my eyes out, and would have been doing me a favor.

Anyway, after listening to half an hour of mindless college-people-speak (ohmygodheissocute-didyoucatchtherackonher-myparentswillkillme-myprofissoboring-didyoucatchtherackonher-etc, etc.), the lights go down, and the movie starts.

I�m not going to tell you about the movie, except to say this.

It was utterly, totally, and unashamedly incomprehensible.

At first, I was still �down�. There was bits of weird, and it was more than a little disturbing. I was excited, I kept waiting for it to click, to make sense, for Lynch (the director) to �cash in� on the weirdness that he�d built up.

I waited.

Then I waited some more.

Then there was a lesbian scene.

Oh, yeah. I watched this in a college town, so this went over very well. It seemed to make up for the fact that no one knew what the fuck was going on. It was kind of a point for everyone to rally around and say, �Yeah, I know what�s going on here! They�re doing it!� There were a few more lesbian scenes later on, but the audience was becoming hostile at that point, and even lesbians wouldn�t appease them. Anyone who knows college-age people knows that, if a lesbian scene doesn�t help, things are bad.

I waited a little bit more.

Then I found myself waiting for it to end. Eventually, it did. Incomprehensibly, just like the rest of the movie. Sloppily, just like the rest of the movie.

There�s a point, even in an utterly weird movie (say, �Being John Malkovich�), where things start to make a certain kind of sense. It may be an utterly weird kind of sense, but it�ll still make sense. I�m not saying it has to be logical or rational, but something should click.

Not a click here. Not even a hint of the beginning of a click. As the movie progressed, a chorus of �What the fuck?� and �What�s going on?� was heard through the theatre. At about 2 hours in, several �Fuck that noise!� got up and left. Let me emphasis that. College students. Leaving a free movie. That had already demonstrated soft-core porn material. I mean, it wasn�t like they could be tired; it was only one in the morning.

And through it all, I could feel them. The director. The screenwriter. The god-damned �best boy�. Sneering at me, and anyone else unlucky enough to be trying to understand this muddled, blurry, pretentious piece of utter garbage.

It�s not like I�m dumb, either. I�m smart. My mom says so. And I want to like this kind of movie. But you can�t throw any jumble of meaningless nonsense on the screen.

And, as we left, every so often looking over our shoulders at the screen in case there�s anything else that may explain what the fuck we just saw, I heard what prompted this rambling. I heard a voice that made my spine shiver, and my liver crawl. If you�ve never had your liver crawl before, I don�t recommend it.

�Brilliant!�

Oh, gods, I hate being in a college that has a film school.

Most people were in shell-shock. They didn�t understand what they just saw, and felt at a real loss because of it. Many were convinced that because they couldn�t understand what they�d just seen, it must be brilliant. Some people really believed they had a grasp on what the film was about, what it meant. Unfortunately, they all had different ideas, and several sissy-fights broke out in the lobby over what the �Lesbian Scene� meant (and, yes, in the mouths of film students and pretentious assholes, those words can be capitalized).

They called it brilliant, not because it was inspiring, interesting, touching, entertaining, or beautiful. They called it brilliant, not IN SPITE of it�s being incomprehensible, confusing, and disorienting. They called it brilliant BECAUSE it�s incomprehensible, confusing, and disorienting.

This is my proposal.

Go see Tomb Raider.

Go see Jurassic Park III. Go see the Pearl Harbor/Planet of the Apes double show at your drive in. Then go to the ticket booth, and pay them an extra $20 because at least these films made sense. It might be tame sense. It might be conventional, boring, unexciting sense. But it�s sense. And until you�ve seen the sneering face of the proudly incomprehensible, you don�t know what it�s worth.

Go see Driven. Go see Corky Romano. Go see Joe Dirt. But, mother of god, please do not see Mulholland Drive.

You�ll thank me. Even if you see Corky Romano, you�ll thank me.