David Lynch wants to save us from Hollywood. Watching his works, you can almost feel him seething at the way straightforward, unimaginative cinema gets heaped with praise, year after year. When a film like Chocolat garners something like ten Oscar nominations, he must just want to pull a Terrence Malick and walk away from it all. Instead, he reaches into that cracked mind of his and pulls out a Blue Velvet, or a Lost Highway. His abstract attempts at cinema aren’t always successful (even Lynch has said he doesn’t know what Lost Highway was about), but they always manage to slap viewers across the face and remind them of what is possible. In the case of Mulholland Drive, the slap reverberates for hours after the credits have rolled.
Mulholland Drive is Lynch’s twisted ode to Hollywood, that nucleus of the cinematic world that attracts every one of us to some extent. Lynch takes the conspiracy theorist’s belief that Tinseltown is secretly run by a mysterious cabal and runs naked through the fields with it, using the absurd idea to turn his Hollywood into a kind of freaky puppet show. The impression one gets is that Lynch sees in Hollywood an evil core that corrupts everything it touches. As we watch star after star fall into various addictions, I wonder how far he is from the truth?
The main plot follows a woman who has lost her memory after surviving a limousine crash in the Hollywood hills. She spies people leaving for vacation and finds refuge in their home, only to discover the owner’s niece moving in. The niece, an aspiring actress named Betty, discovers the strange woman who chooses to call herself Rita and decides to help her discover her identity.
The second story concerns a film being cast; a young director and his producers are discussing who should be the female lead when two mysterious men walk in and hand over a headshot saying only “This is the girl.” The young director has no idea who they are, but his producers trip over themselves trying to please the strangers. The director finds himself learning certain truths about Hollywood, and the decision whether to acquiesce or resist forms the crux of his tale.
Of course, as this is a Lynch movie, there is much, much more, and everything is related. About two-thirds of the way through the movie, Lynch winks at the audience and changes everything, with certain members of the cast abruptly seeming to play different people and our tenuous grasp on what is going on disappears completely. It all has to do with someone opening a little blue box, you see. But Lynch’s wink is no simple trick, like when he traded Bill Pullman for Balthasar Getty in Lost Highway. It is the necessary finger snap to reveal the full story, and Lynch follows it with a brilliant, powerful climax that pulls everything together.
Everything about this film works. Lynch’s direction is central to the film’s power; he superimposes images, un-focuses parts of scenes, and sets out his film in such a way as to keep us a little bit lost, but always eager to find out what comes next. Long-time Lynch collaborator Angelo Badalamenti contributes a moody, wonderful score that0 takes several emotional scenes to a higher level. The cast is near flawless; Justin Theroux plays the young director with a Vincent Gallo ego who has to learn the real way things are done in Hollywood. His belief that the power of his art makes him a powerful man leads to some of the film’s most surreal moments, including getting punched by a surprise cast member who shall remain nameless. Laura Elena Harring plays the confused Rita, whose role becomes increasingly central to the story. Harring gives Rita a suitable air of despair and frustration, and is every inch the Hollywood bombshell. Perhaps the finest performance comes from Naomi Watts, who plays the ingénue Betty. Watts is forced to handle several very different emotions through the film, and much of Mulholland Drive’s success rests on her ability to captivate us. Needless to say, she does, perfectly.
Of course, Hollywood itself has a starring role. In Lynch’s deft hands, that bastion of glamour and excess becomes a mystical town where forces of good and evil are in constant struggle. Characters are guided, both gently and viciously, to their ultimate destinies by strange, spiritual characters who wander the hills in various garb. Hollywood takes on the air of a small, Maine town in a Stephen King novel, where once the townspeople are old enough, they learn the way things really are. The film serves as a warning against making the journey to stardom, but simultaneously lures you with the promise of power.
Is this Lynch’s finest film? Impossible to say, since his films are all so different. What can be said is that Mulholland Drive represents a level of cinematic daring seldom seen today combined with a story that in the end is as emotional and intimate as it is whacked. With this his latest, Lynch has once again reminded us of how putrid most of Hollywood’s output really is, and has confirmed that the demons that brought us Twin Peaks haven’t left him.
Mulholland Drive is one of the finest films ever by this master storyteller and must not be missed at any cost. Go see it and rediscover what great cinema is all about.
Grade: A+
Tim Chandler
