Premiere, October 2001
Mulholland Drive Review
Mulholland Drive (****) by Glenn Kenny
Release Date: October 12 (Universal Focus)
This is the girl. Like Now its dark in
Blue Velvet or Fire walk with me in the film version
of Twin Peaks, This is the girl forms a sort of mantra
in Mulholland Drive, writer-director David Lynchs latest
film.
Uttered first by a dyspeptic mobster whos very particular
about his espresso, later by a menacingly polite cowboy who looks
as if he just stepped out of an establishing shot from a Republic
Pictures B western, and finally by an obdurate hotshot film director
whos eventually persuaded that only by saying those words
can he get back the life that has been abruptly taken from him,
its an initially neutral-sounding phrase that gains more
currency every time it comes up.
What it really meanswhat this whole, wholly
astonishing film really meanswill no doubt be
a source of unending, fascinated speculation among Lynch cultists,
as well as a provocation of genuine, foam-at-the-mouth frustration
among those who got suckered into buying their tickets after hearing
that the film contains a couple of really hot lesbian love scenes.
Not that it doesnt, mind youand its also worth
noting that those scenes are rarities in the Lynch oeuvre, in
that they dont represent the act of physical love with complete
revulsion. Indeed, the affair between amnesiac vamp Rita (Laura
Elena Harring)who, not remembering who she is, has cribbed
her name from a poster of the movie Gildaand perky Hollywood
newbie Betty (Naomi Watts) is possibly the healthiest, most positive
amorous relationship ever depicted in a Lynch moviethat
is, for the duration of its healthy stage, which lasts about two
minutes.
The movie, which began as a pilot for a proposed television series
and was reworked by Lynch into a stand-alone film after French
producers stepped in with financing for new scenes, is a typically
Lynchian sprawl (well over two hours), packed with bizarre characters,
twisting plot lines, and unforgettable set pieces, with Rita and
Bettys story serving as its linchpin, so to speak. Although
set in present-day L.A., the movie has the same unstuck-in-time
feel that gave the great Blue Velvet much of its uncanny atmosphere.
More than anything else, Mulholland Drive is an incredible cinematic
experience. You laugh, you wince, you fall in love, you hold your
breath, you cringe, you mutter Oh my God. The movie
is a nonstop catalog of classic Lynchian moments, from extreme
discomfort (composer Angelo Badalamenti, a longtime Lynch collaborator,
is ineffable as the espresso-rejecting mobster) to nostalgic reverie
(a candy-colored doll with a beehive hairdo lip-synchs Connie
Stevenss Sixteen Reasons in a delightfully improbable
movie-audition scene) to utter desolation (abandoned by a lover,
a distraught woman seeks solace in masturbation; in a point-of-view
shot, we see the brickwork above her fireplace snap in and out
of focus) to sheer terror (embodied, finally, by two extremely
creepy senior citizens). The only problemand I need to lay
my cards on the table and say that it wasnt much of a problem
for me, although for others it might be a big oneis exactly
what the hell happens in this movie.
Its pretty clear where Drive takes off from its TV pilot
version; the lesbian scenes are a tip-off, plus the use of space
within the frame opens up considerably. But Lynch did not use
the big screen to tie up the loose ends of his various plot lines
in a neat, or you might even say coherent, way. While the films
emotional conclusion is quite definitive and remarkably devastating,
the fact is that this is a mystery film where a lot of the riddles
remain unanswered. It occurred to me, shortly after trying to
shake off the emotional power of the film (its the kind
of movie that makes the real world seem even weirder than usual
when you step out of the theater), that Mulholland Drive is, in
an oblique way, really a remake of Lynchs first film, Eraserhead,
and that left to his own devices, Lynch will, in some form or
another, just make the same film over and over again. Roberto
Rossellini once remarked of Chaplins A King in New York,
It is the film of a free man. Mulholland Drive is
the film of a slavea slave to his own, undying obsessions.
But thats not necessarily a bad thing.
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