"Mulholland" bears some similarity to "Lost Highway" in terms of a reliance on a kind of dream logic (sort of like the last ten minutes of any number of Lynch-directed "Twin Peaks" episodes) and in it's lacking an easily digested (or understood) resolution. But while "Highway" had an offputting sense of anarchy to it (I'm not convinced it really amounted to anything at all,) "Mulholland Drive" seduces with mystery and humor before it lets loose with a deluge of often terrifying surrealist imagery during it's final forty-five minutes.

The masterful filmmaker is present here, the Lynch who drew us into the mysteries of "Blue Velvet" and the pilot episode of "Twin Peaks." Naysayers will have a hard time dismissing "Mulholland Drive" as the insane ramblings of an indulged used-to-be: This is unforgettable filmmaking, creepy like nothing I've seen since the best parts of "Twin Peaks." I don't know what to give away and what to keep to myself, but I will say that a seemingly unconnected encounter between two unidentified characters at a Denny's stand-in during the first half-hour is one of the scariest extended passages I've ever seen in a film. (I haven't jumped that high out of my seat since I-don't-know-when.) And, just like Lynch is prone to do, the incident is not mentioned or referred to for another two hours of screen time. And "Mulholland Drive" is a long film, two and a half hours or more. Try to imagine the combined effect of a season and a half of "Peaks" and "Fire Walk With Me" in one sitting, and you'll get an idea of what it seems like Lynch is going for here.

For those who don't know, the story involves a beautiful car-crash victim who, suffering from apparent amnesia, shacks up with a just-off-the-bus wanna-be starlet staying in her aunt's Hollywood bungalow. The two attempt to unravel the (in typiaclly Lynchian neo-Hardy Boys fashion) seductive mystery of the amnesiac's past. Lynch also follows the plight of a young turk film director (well-played by Justin Theroux) who is being pressured to cast an unknown actress in the lead role of his currently shooting 50's set studio film. The strongarming is being done by a pair of brothers played to the hilt by Dan Hedaya and longtime Lynch music collaborator Angelo Badalamenti (who contributes another knowingly melodramatic, skin-crawling score here.)

For the first three quarters of the film, there is no cussing, no nudity, no graphic violence... this is clearly the section of the film that was completed as the rejected pilot for ABC. Then, BAM, a rip-roaringly erotic lesbian scene signals the onslaught of that final stretch of orchestrated madness (recalling nothing less than the early Bunuel/Salvador Dali collaborations.) The centerpiece of that last section is a late-night/early-morning sequence set in the one and only "Club Silencio," a L.A. dive that instantly joins the Lynch pantheon of really creepy places. (The Black Lodge, Dean Stockwell's pad in "Blue Velvet", etc.) Not to give anything away, but,as in "Blue Velvet," Lynch uses a classic Roy Orbison song (albeit stunningly sung in Spanish) prominently in the Club Silencio sequence(my first viewing's warning: keep your eye on the blue-haired lady in the opera box.) This particular set-piece may be Lynch's finest hour as a filmmaker, from the terrifying, loping tracking shot that starts it to the strange mixture of extreme beauty and paranoia that it culminates in. (I know it sounds like a kind of head film, but I do not, repeat DO NOT recommend imbibing anything altering before cruising "Mulholland Drive". It's too much of a dark, enveloping trip.)

From it's nonsensical opening three-minute shot of frantically dancing hepcats to the pure nightmare moments that end it (you have never seen anything like this, not even in "Eraserhead,) "Mulholland Drive" is the work of a true American master, and a real maverick at that. Robert Forster, Lee Grant (!), and Michael Des Barres appear in infinitely tiny bits, but their presence is welcome. (One imagines that Forster would have been a major player, had the series actually developed.) I can honestly say that "Mulholland Drive" is the first two hours since last Tuesday's terrorist attacks that I have been fully transported by art. It's not a comforting ride, but it sure is bracing.

Bravo, Mr. Lynch. You scared the absolute hell out of me.