![Mulholland Drive – [FILMGRAB]](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!aGra!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fda4f6628-4b17-4c4f-af9e-4c40e19c213a_1280x688.jpeg "Mulholland Drive – [FILMGRAB]")
I watched Mulholland Drive last weekend in the Hollywood Cemetery, beside David Lynch’s grave. It was a full moon that night.
I can’t imagine a greater Welcome to Los Angeles! night.
I had watched it before, but I had also forgotten a lot of it.
The film is of 2001, the same year Shrek, Monsters Inc., the first Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter, Ocean’s Eleven, Princess Diaries, and Serendipity came out. Quite literally the best year in cinema! Mulholland Drive included!
I’ve been drawn to David Lynch’s work since watching Twin Peaks with my sister and friend in my early 20s. I remember we took a trip to North Bend, Washington, visited the falls and had pie at the diner. Exploring a whole new world of filmmaking, how thrilling!
In reality, my first introduction to David Lynch was in 8th grade. My drama teacher introduced us to The Elephant Man—I remember he had a long heartfelt speech about it before we watched it. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember he was very serious about it. I remember being captivated by the film, by the emotion, by the tone. What looked grotesque had a heart behind it, and before I was even aware of it, this messaging stuck with me, inspired me. I think a lot of David Lynch’s art feels that way.
Sometime after North Bend, I saw his art exhibition at the Menil museum in Houston—his films became clearer to me through his art.
David Lynch began as a painter. I think his films were his way of exploring his drawings and paintings. And in a way, his films, like his drawings, don’t move. At least not with time.
I view David Lynch’s films like painted dreams. They are not bound by time, and they’re not linear. They’re messages, if we’re listening. They’re explorations of thought and human behavior and fears within a bubble. They’re commentaries on American life and the American dream, within a dream. Mulholland Drive isn’t linear. Perhaps, even, in a loop. A repetition. I know life feels that way sometimes.
As surreal and odd as some of Lynch’s visuals may feel, they tap into something deeply human. He brings to light mannerisms we don’t think about. Scenarios we prefer not talk about. The gross and grotesque are given a spotlight. And what if we repeat it? What if we stretch it? What if it’s tiny? How does that make us feel? Our everyday lives aren’t always pretty, curated.
I don’t think David Lynch wants to be understood. I also don’t believe his films are meant to be explained. They ask, does everything have to make sense? It’s our instinct to ask why, especially in art. Does an artist need a logical explanation for every decision in their art? Does a human in life? We can attempt to create answers to all our life’s questions, but there’s a whole other universe of inspiration when we surrender to life’s absurdities. Lynch left us and generations to come a world of dreams for us to drift into, codes and absurd mysteries, and if we’re lucky enough, we’ll wake up at times with new revelations.
When you create, create from within, create what you feel. Don’t create to explain yourself. Don’t create to make sense. Not everything you create needs a reason to exist, or an explanation. It exists simply because you chose it; this is how you create your world.
“I don’t think that people accept the fact that life doesn’t make sense. I think it makes people terribly uncomfortable.”
― David Lynch
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