Mulholland Dr.

I first heard the name David Lynch in 1996, when my friend Tammy mentioned to me in an e-mail that she was going to have a movie night with several of his movies—only she misspelled his name and wrote David Lunch, so for the longest time, that's what I knew him as! And it wasn't until 9 years later that I finally got to see one of his movies. (And yes, by then I had learned what his actual last name was.) I was at Border's in Pentagon City one day, and I picked the DVD of Mulholland Dr. off of the discount rack, and written at the top across a golden strip was, "Academy Award nominee—Best Director, David Lynch". With that, I remembered Tammy's love for Lynch from several years ago, and I decided to put the movie in my Netflix queue and give Lynch a try. I figured if Tammy liked it, so would I.

One thing I noticed about the DVD right away was that it had no chapter stops. The entire movie was its own single chapter! (I learned later that Lynch prefers it this way, because he believes a movie should be enjoyed from start to finish in a single sitting, and that you shouldn't be able to skip ahead to the various plot points. In the general sense, I’d still prefer chapter stops, but in the case of Lynch's movies, I can see the logic—no, the necessity!—to not having chapter stops.) But the opening shot of Mulholland Dr. left me curiously puzzled, for it features a montage of dancers doing the jitterbug (played in a catchy minor key). Unsure of what this meant for the movie as a whole, I quickly put it aside and followed the opening credits, with a beautifully-sculpted tracking shot of a limousine traveling down a lonely road at night, as seen from high in the air. In the back of the limo is a smokin' hot brunette, glamorously dressed. The limo then pulls to the side of the road, the brunette mutters, "What are you doing? We don't stop here." And then the limo driver points a gun at her and tells her to get out of the car . . . and right at that very moment, a car loaded with drunk, drag-racing teenagers slams head-on into the limo—and in the deathly quiet aftermath of the wreck, we see the brunette exit the limo and stumble aimlessly down the road to Los Angeles.

Behind the scenes, we have what looks like high-powered executives conversing with low-level thugs, uttering phrases like, "The girl is still missing." So right away we have a sense that the brunette is being hotly pursued by powerful yet not-so-likable characters. The brunette, meanwhile, stumbles into the apartment of an older lady who appears to be going on vacation, and she hides underneath the kitchen table as the older lady leaves.

Now enter Naomi Watts as Betty, as she disembarks from LAX and eagerly goes off into the dreamland of Hollywood to become an actress. And just as luck would have it, the older woman who just went on vacation is Betty's aunt, and Betty is staying in her apartment while she gets settled into Hollywood. Thus, Betty and the brunette meet, and the brunette in haste assumes an identity as "Rita"—because after the accident, she's lost all her memory! (Hmm, this sound familiar? Anyone?)

Let me just digress for a moment to say that, when Naomi Watts first entered the scene, right away I knew something was wrong with her character. She was too sweet, too innocent, too naïvely pure. It took a few viewings for me to realize that this wasn't bad acting on her part, not by a mile! There was a reason behind her purity. And it isn't just Naomi Watts that's too sugary—because everywhere she goes, everything is pristine, everything is glamorous, everything is perfect and ideal, almost like a dream come true. Being the cynic that I am, something just didn't sit right with me about that (and I was right, too!).

But Betty and Rita slowly begin to trust each other and become friends, and Betty becomes determined to help her friend learn her true identity. Now enter into the fold such unique characters as a cocky Hollywood director, spooky blackmailing cowboys, a hitman so clumsy that he'd make the Three Stooges look intelligent, and a mysterious black-enshrouded man hiding behind a local restaurant, and we have the recipe for Mulholland Dr. The search for Rita's true identity doesn't yield any serious results, but it does lead them on a seemingly dangerous path—straight to the house of Diane Selwyn, a name which randomly occurs to Rita in a coffee ship, and who may hold the key to Rita's identity. The scene of Betty and Rita going through Diane's house offers up some delicious suspense, and when it's all done, I still feel tingly, even after so many viewings.

And yes, it was kind of predictable that Rita and Diane would fall in love, so their love scene was only partially a surprise. What did surprise me was how hot it was! And I'm not talking in the horny-boy-loves-to-watch-lesbian-love sense—their love scene was genuinely beautiful, done out of mutual love and affection for the other. (Then contrast this with a later love scene between them, under different circumstances, and you'll see what I mean, for the two are night and day.)

After their love scene, we see the two girls go off to a mysterious late-night venue called Club Silencio . . . and almost immediately afterward, everything in the movie turns upside down. Characters are suddenly not who they previously were, circumstances are not what they previously were, idealism and perfection are suddenly replaced with ugliness, back-stabbing, and betrayal—almost like the dirty underbelly of not just Hollywood but of people in general has suddenly and irrevocably been unearthed. In other words, it's like a whole new reality has sprung up to replace the storyline we've been watching, and continues as such for the remainder of the movie. So at the conclusion of my first viewing of Mulholland Dr. . . . I was utterly, genuinely baffled! I frantically thought to myself, "What the hell did I just watch???" But alongside bafflement, I was surprised to find that I was angry! Angry for taking what I thought was a captivating storyline and suddenly turning it upside down, inside out, into something entirely different for the last 45 minutes of the film. I honestly thought, "A good film ruined." And with that, I put the DVD back into the Netflix sleeve (but without sealing up the return envelope!) and went online to see what other viewers had thought of the movie.

To say the least, I was even more surprised by all the positive reviews I found. Some people were seriously raving about how this was one of the most brilliantly conceived movies ever put to film, with an ending so jaw-dropping that it totally redefined the term "plot twist". I honestly couldn't understand what these people were saying, because I obviously couldn't reconcile my own feelings on Mulholland Dr. to theirs. While still wondering, "Did all of us see the same movie?", I browsed even further online . . . and then I began to read the various interpretations people had of the plot, and much of it included ideas that never once occurred to me. With my mind beginning to reel, I took a step back, tried to see Mulholland Dr. in the manner that these other viewers saw it . . . and almost immediately I had to put the movie back into my DVD player! (Good thing I didn't seal that Netflix envelope, yes?)

And with further and further viewings, I too began to see things I hadn't seen before, and my whole perspective about the movie changed! And when I was done with those viewings, I thought, "Oh my God! David Lynch really has created something brilliant here! And now the whole thing makes total sense." For what Lynch has given us isn't so much a movie to watch but a puzzle to solve, with clues interspersed throughout the film to clue us into the mystery that lies beneath! (Sorry, I know I have a penchant for spoilers, but I can't give away the plot twist/explanation here. I just can't. It would be like telling a 3-year-old that Santa Claus doesn't exist; so sorry.)

Below is the video clip of the Club Silencio scene. It is hands-down the coolest scene of the entire movie—and probably the most bizarre. This comes right after the love scene, and Rita asks Betty to come with her there late in the night. She doesn't know why she wants to go there, or what she'll find there—only that she has to go. This is such an incredible scene not only visually but because such a vital piece of information is subtly revealed to the audience . . . yet nobody even realizes it. And to top it all off, you have Rebekah Del Rio singing Roy Orbison's "Crying"—which here, sung a cappella in Spanish, is heartbreakingly beautiful!



The snubbing of Naomi Watts for a Best Actress Oscar nomination ranks right up there with Paul Giamatti's Best Actor snub for Sideways—you wonder how a loving God can let a thing like that happen. (And I'm still not sure why Justin Theroux got top-billing, since he was a supporting character.) But one thing I learned from watching Mulholland Dr.—sometimes you really do need to look beneath the surface of some films. Sometimes you need to think about what you see, interpret what you see, rather than have it all explained for you. Because good movies, like good books, are art forms too. 10 out of 10 for Mr. David Lynch!