Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Mulholland Drive (David Lynch, 2001)


David Lynch's noirish, idiosyncratic, half-abstract love story was far too readily summed up as a moody, stylish mindfuck. Many adored it all the same, though it's a shame more people didn't dig a little deeper. It's intriguing more than confounding, and in a thoughtful, engrossing way.

The film may not be linear, but it's centrally tied to a story - a lurid, gruelling but morbidly touching love story. Lynch creates his own intuitive plane of dream-logic on which it can unfold, and it's organic enough (not to mention, rewarding) to go along with.

He does wobble at times - scenes like the pre-production conference and the dwarf overlord in the cavernous lounge feel a bit like auto-pilot. But they amount to minor eccentricities in a rich, sprawling, enveloping whole.

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