Mulholland Drive

Mulholland Drive ★★★★

now that i have a few lynch films under my belt it's patently clear all of his stories are told very instinctively and without deliberation. mulholland drive's genius lies in the way it plays with the viewer's assumption of objective diegesis as opposed to the suspicion of mimesis. lynch's formula in creating a film so unsettlingly bizarre is how he juxtaposes his old hollywood archetypes (the concrete, familiar things we latch on to) with an interior world so mystic and unfamiliar (the theoretical/contradictory elements of a disconcerting and uncomfortable universe we've never been to or seen anything like) the viewer then loses touch with what they deem tangible as lynch writes his characters into a dream only he truly understands. mulholland drive then, in a way, truly is incomprehensible—the viewer can contemplate the dream but lynch is the only one who dreamed it. that's not to say the film is completely barren of analysis—there's quite a bit of obvious nods to the delusion of hollywood + malignant obsession with its false promises, but i think only lynch's dormant interpretation of his own stream of consciousness holds any water. a really challenging one to say the least, and it goes without saying a rewatch in the next year or two—when i'm older and wiser—will prove enlightening. for now, this is a dream of lynch's own doing—i think i'll stick to my own for a while.

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