Showing posts with label David Lynch. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Lynch. Show all posts

Sunday, May 4, 2025

Eraserhead

 SPOILER ALERT! The plot will be discussed.

We recently lost one of the quirkiest and most artistic film directors, David Lynch. Some people hated his work, others love it, and those who love some of his projects dislike others. In any event, he was a challenging filmmaker. I was lucky enough to see Lynch in person at an interview at the Bryn Mawr Film Institute. He related that he was an art student in Philadelphia when he saw air blowing through a window which caused his painting to move. He said it was then that he decided to make motion pictures. He said living in Philadelphia was not a pleasant experience as he observed violence and decay. However, the experience influenced his filmmaking. His movies explore the underbelly of existence. Think of the opening scene in Blue Velvet when the camera moves from the beauty of the garden to the insects swarming over a human ear.

Lynch’s first full-length film, Eraserhead (1977), in black and white, gives us that dark view in a surrealistic landscape. To attempt to analyze this unique work in a traditional manner would be unfair to the film. As Roger Ebert said, “to explain Eraserhead would be like cutting a drum open to see what makes the noise – you may get your answer, but you tend to ruin the drum in the process.” For myself, I feel like the main character Henry Spencer (Jack Nance) when he is asked what he knows. His response is, “Oh, I don’t know much of anything.” I think that may be a good way to start to approach this movie. So, I will draw on my own perceptions, and some from others.

The general view is that the story takes place in either an alternative world or at least a sort of post-apocalyptic one on Earth. Or, it is just an objectification of a Lynch nightmare. There is artificial food, presumably the only kind that can exist, and procreation does not end well. The whole of the film could be seen as a satire on how we as a species have fallen from grace and are irreparably damaged.




The opening has a soundtrack that almost sounds like what is in 2001: A Space Odyssey, when the astronaut flies through the psychedelic light show toward the end of that film. We have the image of a man in a suit, Henry with his high, frizzy hair, floating in space in front of what appears to be a desolate planet. (I always thought, when I first saw the movie poster, that Henry’s hair looked like an eraser which fits the title of the film). The camera dives into a black hole where there is an emaciated, disfigured man (or as Ebert suggests one who has burns) looking out a window which evokes a silent scream from Henry. A diseased sperm seems to emanate from Henry’s mouth. The man pulls a lever and the sperm is sucked into fluid where then floats through another hole. Is this image supposed to be a grotesque version of a conception?

                                    

Henry, sporting a nerdish pocket protector, walks through a setting that is drab and barren, with mud, piles of dirt, and tall, filthy buildings. The sound in the background sounds like the drone of machinery, possibly a critique of a world becoming engulfed by mechanization.

He walks into a building that has zigzag carpeting in its lobby, which is what Lynch uses later in his TV show, Twin Peaks. IMDb notes that the pattern may have come from Stanley Kubrick’s influence on Lynch. The effect is one of things being off kilter. The ironwork on the heavy elevator doors has a Gothic feel to it. Henry’s apartment has dirt and grass in it. An IMDb note says that Lynch may be suggesting that below the surface of the human attempt at civilization, there will always be filth and creatures, “both literally and figuratively.” The picture he has of his girlfriend, Mary X (Charlotte Stewart), is in two pieces, one showing her head, as if she is decapitated (a foreshadowing), and thus, a fragmented entity. (The “X” last name of Mary and her parents seems to have something to do with the lack of true identity or individuality).


The landscape appears even more hellish as we hear crashing sounds and smoke emanating from the environment as Henry visits Mary X’s house for the first time. The awkwardness of the meeting with her parents is palpable. Henry scrunches in a corner of a couch, as if trying to recapture the womb experience. We see puppies vying for milk from their mother, their screeching sounds adding to the uncomfortable setting (more foreshadowing). Henry responds that he is a label printer to Mrs. X (Jeanne Bates). But this answer seems out of sync with the fact that Mary X seems to be having some sort of seizure which is only calmed by her mother stroking her hair (a maternal act that Mary X will not be able to sustain). Mr. X (Allen Joseph) says that he remembers that the area used to be a pasture and has declined into a “hellhole,” which implies how civilization has decimated nature. Grandmother (Jean Lange) sits catatonic in the kitchen as Mrs. X places a salad bowl and tosses its contents in her lap. It is humorous and upsetting at the same time, showing the numbing of life here. There is a contorting mechanical cuckoo bird coming out of the clock on the wall. IMDb states that the image may have come from Billy Wilder’s The Lost Weekend, which is a story about an alcoholic experiencing hallucinations. When Henry attempts to cut up a tiny man-made chicken, it spouts oozing dark liquid and its cooked legs begin to move. It is now Mrs. X who goes into a trance and has a fit. What an inviting meal. One will either shake one’s head or laugh at the satiric thrust of this uber strange boyfriend-meeting-the-family scene.


It gets stranger. Mrs. X confronts Henry by asking if he and her daughter had sex. He is very embarrassed. She proceeds to nuzzle him saying things could get worse. Quite an understatement. Mrs. X says there is a baby at the hospital which is very immature. Mary X questions whether it even is a baby, an accurate assessment. Ebert says the “child” could be “a cross between a fetal version of E.T. and some form of skinned ruminant that has been plagued with an eternal cold that causes it to cry, whine and spit up various forms of goo practically around the clock.” Is the implication that this creature is what the human trace is devolving into – a domestic atrocity? The existence of this wild situation contrasts comically with Mary X asking Henry, like any other wife, if there is any mail.

After Mary X leaves for home because she can’t stand the situation, the child/creature becomes sick with facial pustules and breathing problems. Henry tries being a regular father in this highly irregular situation, taking temperatures and using a humidifier.

What follows is a nightmare, although reality in this film is already unreal. Henry’s loudly hissing radiator divides and turns into a stage revealing the smiling Lady in the Radiator (Laurel Near) with grotesquely large jowls. Those deformed sperms from the beginning of the film begin falling on her stage, which she squishes. Henry later encounters these entities supposedly waking up from his sleep, adding to the disgusting aspect of the film. He then has visions of the beautiful woman across the hall (Judith Rogers), who may be a prostitute. They have sex in a tub of water that looks like a witch’s cauldron. The Lady in the Radiator then sings, “In heaven, everything is fine.” The lyrics are ironic since what Lynch is serving up for us is a view of life that is far from heaven.


Henry then sees his own decapitation and his deformed offspring replaces his missing head, as if that horror is what the future holds. His head falls to the street and a boy takes it to a pencil factory where the worker there drills into the skull. The extracted material is used to make eraser head pencils. So, Henry, the nerd with the pocket protector, is an eraser head before actually being reduced to one in this fever dream.


After waking, Henry, who moves like Frankenstein’s monster here (is Lynch Dr. Frankenstein?), witnesses a savage beating from his window, a foreshadowing of what is to come. (The music in the background at this point sounds like sideshow carnival music. Send in the freaks?) He sees the prostitute with a man who has rouge on his cheeks (clown make-up to fit the sideshow feel?) entering her apartment. Henry pictures himself as the creature of his dreams, with the body of a man and the head of his deformed child. He then cuts through the bandages encasing the child, revealing its diseased organs. He then kills the creature with the scissors. Is it a mercy killing or is he trying to abort a decaying future?

Electrical lights blink in the apartment and outlets spark, while Henry sees what appears to be a smooth dinosaur doll head in the shadows. More about evolution? We return to that eerie globe at the beginning that cracks open revealing a hole. The burned/deformed man from the beginning reappears fighting with his levers. Is he a demonic god who has created this fallen world? The last image is of Henry being embraced by the Lady in the Radiator.

Is Henry living in an insane world, or is he himself insane and all this surrealism emanating from his mind? Like the main character in the movie Brazil who finds solace in insanity, is Henry embracing the woman at the end who sings of heaven because that is as close as he can come to escaping the madness? Your guess is as good as any.





Monday, July 26, 2021

7 of the Greatest Movie Cliffhangers

We have a guest post today from Hotdog.com.


7 of the Greatest Movie Cliffhangers

 Most film endings are straightforward. Heroes successfully set off on a quest of self-discovery, and the audience feels a sigh of relief as they ride off into the sunset. However, sometimes the most memorable movies don't spell out everything. They leave us with a cliffhanger to debate, interpret and re-watch to find details we missed before. The following films, we believe, boast 7 of the greatest movie cliffhangers, many of which are available to enjoy on popular streaming platforms.

Spoiler alert – we discuss the plots below.

 

Take Shelter

 

An apocalyptic storm is on the horizon. At least, that's what Curtis LaForche (Michael Shannon) believes while experiencing a series of horrifying nightmares. His history of mental health issues and increasing paranoia compel him to build a fallout shelter, but his precautions create skepticism. Whether or not his visions are true lasts until the final frame. Even then, the film’s symbolism of the storm as a reflection of Curtis’s mental state leaves doubt about his family's survival.

 

The Birds


 Director Alfred Hitchcock cultivated a catalog of suspenseful work for movie buffs to study while also struggling to sleep at night. His adaptation of Daphne DuMaurier's novel upends his staple of human-driven murder mysteries with birds attacking a peaceful seaside town. The film doesn't answer what makes the birds tick. Instead, the ending only beckons us to wonder if humankind can survive as the cast led by Tippi Hedren and Rod Taylor search for a sanctuary. Unfortunately, birds occupy the scenery as far as the eye can see, causing viewers to wonder if Mother Nature has won once and for all.

 

Prisoners

 

Director Denis Villeneuve is no stranger when it comes to infusing his films with palpable intrigue. Prisoners is one of the best examples of his auteur style. Keller Dover (Hugh Jackman) will do anything he can to find his missing daughter and her friend. As he takes the law into his hands, Detective Loki (Jake Gyllenhaal) unravels a labyrinth of similar cases filled with dead ends and disturbing secrets. As Dover becomes the ultimate victim, the conclusion beckons the audience to wonder with hope or despair if Loki will uncover the truth right in front of him to solve everything.

 

The Graduate

 

Who knew young love could be so tumultuous? College graduate Benjamin Braddock (Dustin Hoffman) engages in an affair with an older woman, Mrs. Robinson (Anne Bancroft), and then falls head-over-heels for her daughter Elaine (Katharine Ross). Benjamin and Elaine have one thing in common: they feel tied down by their parents' expectations about their careers and relationships. Caught in-between arranged plans for the future, Benjamin and Elaine manage to break free during her wedding ceremony. As the adrenaline wears off, their stunned expressions don't paint a picture of living happily ever after. The final moments are a hallmark of a classic film as we're left to decide if they made the right choice.

 

Mulholland drive


 Director David Lynch always offers a surrealist escape, but even he outwits his genius with Mulholland Drive. Aspiring actress Betty Elmes (Naomi Watts) befriends an amnesiac (Laura Elena Harring) recovering from a car accident. Their lives strangely intersect with other actresses who look exactly like them and whose fates dissolve into murder/suicide. Was it all a dream or alternative realities merging? Unfortunately, or fortunately, Lynch remains secretive about the ending. His execution to use the same actresses to play multiple roles and the unreliable narrative makes it one of the most theorized cliffhangers in movie history.

 

The Empire Strikes Back

 

From superhero flicks to action blockbusters, franchises are commonplace now. But in 1980, a space opera trilogy-in-the-making took the world by storm with Star Wars: The Empire Strikes Back. As the sequel to Star Wars – A New Hope, fans caught up with Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, and Han Solo attempting to bring down Darth Vader's regime. Nobody could prepare for the shocking revelation that Skywalker was Vader's son, or the dread of Solo forever frozen in carbonite. Even though we know what happens to the original trilogy characters today, Lucas's original vision is the blueprint for an installment that leaves audiences wanting more.

 

Inception


 Any film by director Christopher Nolan is a worthy entry on this list. However, Inception deserves extra recognition because of the iconic ending. Cobb (Leonardo DiCaprio) extracts secrets from his clients' subconscious minds better than anyone. But when he accepts the opportunity to do the impossible – plant an idea – his guilty conscience seeps into his mission. Nolan's intricate world-building around reality and dreams makes it difficult to tell the difference between the two. An elegant solution is to give the characters a totem. Cobb's totem is a top and links to a tragic accident in his past he hasn't healed from. If he uses it while dreaming, it will never topple. Using this to his advantage, Nolan crafts an ending where Cobb finally frees himself from his mistake and spins the top one last time. However, the film cuts away before we ever find out if the top ever stops spinning. Though most films' ambiguity builds to a flawed and unfulfilling conclusion, Nolan's attention to detail will encourage audiences to debate Inception's ending forever.


Sunday, April 10, 2016

Mulholland Dr.

SPOILER ALERT! The plot of the movie will be discussed.


When I saw director David Lynch when he visited the Bryn Mawr Film Institute he spoke of the days he lived in my hometown, Philadelphia. He said the ugliness, the squalor there was sort of scary, disturbing. He also implied that because of those seemingly negative qualities that the city was wonderful. This impression may seem like a paradox, but for Lynch the darker side of life, the underbelly of the human psyche, was what fascinated him as an artist. It is similar to how the young boy in the movie American Beauty sees beauty in a dead bird or in paper trash swirling in the wind. In Lynch’s films, such as Blue Velvet, which I have written about previously, and in the television show Twin Peaks, the bizarre, the threatening part of life coexists with what appears to be the acceptable aspect of existence. But that “normal” world seems less real than one would expect, almost phony, and certainly less interesting, to the artist, and usually to the audience, than its counterpart.
 In Mulholland Dr., which Lynch wrote as well as directed, he again explores two different worlds, but here he is presenting two different stories in one film with each one having his disturbing, surreal elements because they spring from the main character’s personal experiences. To understand the enigmatic narrative, we must first understand what is happening. Then, we can delve into what Lynch may be trying to say through these stories. The best way to analyze the movie is to see the much longer first part of the film as a wish-fulfillment dream of the main character based on the short second part’s real world experiences, many of which are told in flashback. However, this may be too simplistic, which I will point out later.
The movie begins with a surreal sequence of young people dancing to jitterbug music against a bright blue background, as the figures and their shadows vary in size. It also foretells the type of film which is being shot later in the story. Superimposed over these images are shots of a smiling Betty (Naomi Watts). This unrealistic opening suggests the stream-of-consciousness of a dream. We also get a quick shot of someone in a bed with a pillow, which implies that we may be entering someone’s dream state. The upbeat, although strange, start segues to a drive at night with contrasting ominous music and the car light lit Mulholland Dr. street sign. The car doing the lighting stops, and the dark-haired woman in the back says that this is not where they should be stopping. At gunpoint, she is told to get out by one man, and another opens the car door. Rowdy, recklessly driven cars slam into the parked car, killing the men. The woman survives, and staggers away. She sneaks into the apartment of a woman who is leaving on a trip so she can sleep.



Betty lands at the Los Angeles airport, and we learn that she is an aspiring actress. She is all bubbly and in awe of being in LA. She met an elderly couple on the plane, and they hit it off. They seem sweet and encouraging. But, as we see them drive away in a cab, their smiles are grotesquely broad, and they bare too much teeth, which suggests a bit of nightmare invading Betty’s happy dream-come-true of being in LA. Coco (Anne Miller), who is the manager of the apartment complex where Betty’s actress Aunt Ruth (Maya Bond) resides, escorts Betty to her aunt’s home. The actress relative is on location shooting a film. The apartment is where the dark-haired woman is crashing. Betty finds her naked in the shower, which hints at their eventual sexual relationship. The woman has amnesia, so she says her name is Rita (Laura Elena Harring) after seeing the poster of the Rita Hayworth film Gilda hanging in the apartment. Rita has a handbag that contains a large sum of money and a triangular-shaped blue key.



 At a Winkie's restaurant, Dan (Patrick Fischler) tells Herb (Michael Cooke) about a frightening dream (a dream within Betty’s dream which pretends to be reality?) he has had involving a scary man living behind the dumpsters at the rear of this particular restaurant. Here again, we have a nightmare in counterpoint to the hopeful actress dream of Betty. Dan wants to look in the back so he can dispel his fear by proving that the creature does not exist. When they go to investigate, a shaggy-haired dark-skinned man with a long, pointed nose appears. Dan collapses. But, Herb only acknowledges his concern for his friend. Did he see the dark man, or was this a nightmare demon Dan hallucinates? At another point, Betty says, “I’m in a dream place,” when speaking about LA. So, the film often alerts the audience to the fact that what they are seeing may not be real.
Director Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux) has a meeting with studio big shots and gangster types, the Castigliani brothers. One of them, played by the film’s composer Angelo Badalamenti, spits out what to him is unacceptable espresso onto a napkin. The brothers throw a head shot of an actress by the name of Camilla Rhodes (Melissa George) at the studio men because she is the one that they want as the lead in Kesher’s new movie. They keep saying, “This is the girl.” We see another bigger shot (ironically played by dwarf-sized Michael J. Anderson) in a room with a glass window who is the puppeteer pulling the studio strings. Kesher storms out and smashes the Castigliani’s car windshield. He returns home and finds his wife in bed with the pool guy, who says to him, “Just forget you even saw it. It’s better that way.” This remark echoes what is happening to Rita, who may be better off not knowing about the shady men who died at the car crash and the money in the handbag. Kesher stays at a sleazy hotel. The manager tells him that men showed up to say that Kesher’s credit cards can’t be used and he is broke. He is told to meet a “cowboy” (Lafayette Montgomery) at a ranch, who tells him that he has to pick Camilla for the role. Another unreal incident is how did these men know where Kesher escaped to, since he only paid in cash for the room?

In an unreal coincidence, Betty and Rita go to the same Winkie’s as did Dan and Herb. Betty, using the pay phone outside the restaurant, verifies that there was an accident on Mulholland Dr. While being served coffee at the diner, Rita notices that the waitress’ name is Diane, which reminds her that she knew a woman named Diane Selwyn. We also have a scene where an inept hit-man, Joe (Mark Pellegrino) kills a man for a black address book. Since they talk about a car accident, we know that these men are associated with the criminals involved with Rita. This impression is confirmed when Joe tells a prostitute to be on the lookout for the missing brunette. When Betty and Rita call Diane Selwyn’s number, Rita realizes it is not her, but she says she knows the voice. One of the neighbors at the apartment complex, Louise Bonner (Lee Grant), is clairvoyant according to Coco. Bonner says to Betty, “that’s not your name,” and advises her to get rid of Rita. This scene fits in with the dream nature of this part, possibly showing how the nightmare of reality is trying to intrude into Betty’s wish-fulfillment dream state.
Betty’s aunt set her up for an audition. She runs through the lines with Rita, and the two laugh at the bad dialogue. Some of her lines include saying how she hates the person she is talking to, and threatening to kill the other person in the scene. She says these words to Rita, which is an omen of what will happen in the second part of the movie. But, when Betty plays the scene at the studio, she changes the feel of the scene, and delivers a steamy, completely mesmerizing performance. The female casting director at the audition says that the film for which she read will never happen and takes her to see Kesher, who is auditioning women for his movie, The Sylvia North Story. Betty must leave to go with Rita to find Diane Selwyn. Camilla Rhodes auditions, and Kesher reluctantly repeats what he has been told to say: “This is the girl.”
 Betty and Rita go the what they believe is Diane’s apartment. They see men lurking about the area. They find the woman’s neighbor there, who tells them they switched apartments. We get a sniff of subtext here from the neighbor’s hurt and angry attitude that she and Diane may have been involved, which foreshadows the relationship between Betty and Rita. Betty enters Diane’s place through an open window, and lets Rita in. They find Diane’s decomposing corpse inside. Did the criminals associated with Rita’s past kill her, and were waiting for Rita to show up? Rita believes so, and goes back to Betty’s place to cut her hair. Betty finishes cutting her hair, and gives Rita a short blonde wig. They stand next to each other staring into a mirror. They look similar. It is interesting that they later make love, as if Betty is trying to make Rita into her own image, and may need to feel love for herself.

In the middle of the night, Rita, in a dream, starts to speak Spanish, and calls out the word, “Silencio.” She remembers a theater by that name and convinces Betty to go with her to that place. It is here where this world becomes more dream-like. The master of ceremonies there says everything at the theater is a recording, an illusion, as musicians pretend to play music, and a woman appears to be singing, but is not. At one point, the emcee disappears at the front of the stage. Betty reaches into her bag and a blue box magically appears there. We had the blue background of the opening, the blue key, and now this blue item, the coincidences lending themselves to the surreal nature of this world. When the women return to the apartment, Betty mysteriously disappears from the bedroom, just as the emcee had done. Is she waking up, and thus exiting her dream? Rita fits the triangular-shaped key into the box, and opens it. It seems as if her reality is sucked into the box, which drops onto the floor of Aunt Ruth’s bedroom, who is now there as if none of what preceded took place. However, the woman heard the sound of the box dropping, but finds nothing when she enters the room.
We then have what seems like a transition between Betty’s dream and a waking state. We see Diane’s bedroom with the corpse, but the image alternates with one of an alive woman in the bed. There is a vision of the Cowboy who says it’s time to wake up. Betty is now Diane Selwyn, in the apartment we saw in Betty’s dream. In the first part, after Rita dons the blonde wig, Betty says to her, “You look like someone else,” which shows the real world intruding in subliminally, telling Betty that Rita is not who she seems. The neighbor we also saw in the first part appears, collecting things from her former apartment, and she tells Diane that two policemen had been around, looking for her. We see a normal-shaped blue key sitting on the coffee table. Diane, even though awake, hallucinates that Rita is in her apartment, but her name is Camilla Rhodes. So, we know how that name showed up in her dream. But, then we see this Camilla half-naked on the couch, and the similarly topless Diane practically forcing herself on her, as Camilla tells her she must stop. The blue key is no longer on the table, so what follows is a flashback from here until the very end which shows most of the elements that appeared in the first part rearranged.
 Camilla and Diane are actresses, and they auditioned for Kesher’s movie, The Sylvia North Story, which was Kesher’s film in the first part, too. The two women became lovers. However, Camilla broke it off, which devastated Diane. Camilla became involved with Kesher. Camilla invites Diane to a party, and has a car pick her up. The driver stops where Rita did in the first part, and now it is Diane who says, “this is not where we are supposed to stop,” the words Rita used. Camilla appears and leads her up to the party. We see a man dressed like a cowboy, who turns into the western fellow of the first part. We also see a person drinking coffee who morphs into the espresso-sipping gangster brother in the dream. It is here where she meets Coco, who is really Kesher’s mother. Diane, in answer to some questions, states she had an aunt, who in this story died, and left her some money. Diane also says she won a jitterbug contest, which explains why we have young people doing that dance at the beginning of the dream. Kesher, talking about his divorce, laughingly says his ex-wife got the pool guy, while the director got the pool, which refers to the infidelity scene in the dream. Camilla then humiliates Diane by kissing a girl who showed up in the dream as Camilla Rhodes in the first part. It makes sense that in the dream she plays Camilla, the woman who gets the part. It also allowed Betty in the dream to keep Camilla in the form of Rita, but wipe her past clean with amnesia so Betty could help her, make her dependent on her, and fall in love with her.
In the next flashback, Diane meets with Joe, the hit-man, at Winkie’s, where she sees the person she dreams as Dan. The waitress’ name here is Betty, which is the name Diane uses for herself in the dream story of the first part. She is there to hire Joe to kill Camilla. She, like the gangsters, presents a headshot of an actress, in this case the real Camilla, and she, in this world, says the words, “This is the girl.” Joe says confirmation of the hit will be signaled by the appearance of the blue key he holds up in front of her. She asks what does it open? Joe just laughs. Now, this world, too, becomes surreal. We see the scary man behind the dumpsters, and he holds the blue box. It drops to his feet, as the box dropped at the end of the dream to the floor. We see the old couple who appeared as Betty’s flight friends, as tiny creatures scurrying away from the box. Is Diane imagining this part, psychotically answering her own question about the key? We are back in Diane’s apartment again, and the blue key is again on the table, signaling the end of the flashbacks which supplied her dream. We hear knocking at the door by the policemen possibly investigating Camilla’s murder, the light of the police car flashing in the background. Is this scene real, or more hallucinations on Diane’s part, brought on by paranoia? She is possibly driven insane with guilt about the killing of Camilla. She imagines the elderly couple, full-sized now, laughingly assaulting her. She pulls out a gun and shoots herself. She is now dead on the bed, just the way Diane was found in the dream. Did Diane as Betty foresee her own death?
So, is it that straight second part-is the reality-first-part-is-the-dream the only way to understand what happens? Perhaps. Maybe the scene in the second part which shows the scary man with the box is not part of Diane’s story, since she doesn’t really experience him, as she does the other parts that are the bases for the dream of the first part. Maybe Lynch is referring to the demons that lurk in all of our minds, not just in Diane’s suffering state. After Diane dies, we, the audience, see a surreal smoky mist rising from the bed. If Diane is now dead, and this is the “real” world, she cannot be experiencing this phenomena, or imagining it. After her death, we, not Diane or Betty, go back to the Silencio theater, which did not appear in the second part, the only suggestion for its existence in part one is Kesher speaking Spanish at the party. We see a glowing microphone stand, and the woman in the balcony we saw in the dream, who instead of saying the end, utters the word, “Silencio.”
I think Lynch is talking about the movie-making process. He has his main characters, and some supporting ones, be in the acting profession. We see the Hollywood sign twice in the film. We have auditions. Lynch may be satirizing the studios who try to manipulate the artist’s vision when he deals with the movie executives caving to disreputable interests, interfering with the director’s motion picture. At that Bryn Mawr Film Institute visit, Lynch said his primary advice to new filmmakers was to get final cut to protect their work. Movies spring from imagination, and involve the imaginations of the audience. In the first section, Betty, when suggesting they call the police to find out about the possible accident, says to Rita, “We’ll pretend to be someone else,” which is what actors do, and which we do as we are sucked into the movie’s world, much as we are sucked into the blue box in this film. Of course, this imaginative pretending to be someone else refers to how the two characters are different people in the two stories. But, it also points to how a director can take the same actresses and have them become different people depending on how you tell the story. Rita taking the name of an actress emphasizes the way people reinvent themselves in the dream world of film. Betty uses the same overwrought words of the script at her audition, but through art, transforms them into something moving. At Silencio, the emcee (the director?) tells the audience in the theater, and the audience watching the movie (also in a theater), that what we are seeing is not really happening in front of them. It is a recording, an illusion, of reality. But, Betty and Rita, in a theater, as are we, are still moved by the woman’s dubbed singing of the Spanish version of Roy Orbison’s “Crying,” as are we. That emotional moment is reality for us.

“Rhodes” is Camilla’s last name in the film. Mulholland Dr. is a road. When you take a ride with David Lynch down a cinematic road, that trip takes many imaginative turns.

The next film is Invasion of the Body Snatchers.

Sunday, May 31, 2015

Blue Velvet

(I’d like to thank Marc Lapadula since I borrowed from his lecture on this film. SPOILER ALERT, and viewer discretion is advised)


If director David Lynch had sent out invitations to view his Blue Velvet, they would probably have read “Welcome to my nightmare.” In this film he shows us an upside down world where the dream state is more alive and vivid, and thus more “real,” than the waking, mundane state of the every day.


The opening scene shows us white picket fences, red roses, and a man on a truck giving us a friendly wave and smile. But the lighting is too bright, the wave is in slow motion. It seems fake, not genuine. We see the father of Jeffrey (Kyle MacLachlan), Mr. Beaumont, watering his lawn. Think of the actor Hugh Beaumont who played the prototype of the suburban patriarch in the TV show Leave it to Beaver. In the context of this film, “beaver” takes on a sexual subtext contrasting it with the G rated surface world. This film deals with many themes, but human sexuality is at the center. The father’s garden hose, which takes on a phallic symbolism, becomes twisted, and he suffers a stroke, falls down, the hose between his legs, squirting out of control. We see him later, confined in a hospital bed, practically bound down, unable to move or speak. The father figure has become impotent. The town’s industry is producing lumber, and there are references to time passing as trees falling. We see trucks full of chopped tree trunks. Perhaps these are more references to male impotence, the men no longer getting “wood.”

Jeffrey is a youth caught between the innocence of childhood and adult manhood. He starts his initiation into the dangerous underbelly of life when he discovers a severed ant- covered ear (or in the context of this film, “castrated” ear) in an industrial wasteland area of town. He is drawn to the mystery behind this grotesque object, one may say seduced. He brings it to Detective Williams of the police. He visits him in his home at one point, and encounters his daughter, Sandy, and there is an attraction between her and Jeffrey. There is a Freudian undertone to Williams as he gives a warning look to Jeffrey, which basically reads as “Stay away from my daughter.” When we first see the detective at home, he is carrying his handgun. It is disturbing to see him toting it around his house. Is it because his job makes him stay on guard? Or, is it fear of losing his manhood, a sort of penis replacement symbol? If nothing else, it adds a sense of menace to what otherwise would be a normal, safe American home.


Sandy overheard her father mentioning a woman, Dorothy (Isabella Rossellini), a nightclub singer, who may be involved with the criminal element and can be tied to the man who was mutilated. Jeffrey now wants to dive right into this underworld by invading (penetrating?) this woman’s apartment to investigate after he sees her erotically singing at the club. She sings “Blue Velvet” whose wholesome lyrics are undermined, like everything else in this film, by the forces of the id underneath the surface. On the one hand he has the virginal Sandy, urging him not to leave the “safe” world, but his lust has been inflamed by Dorothy (who definitely is not in Kansas anymore. Don’t forget how nightmarish, but exciting, Oz is, with witches and flying monkeys). 


Jeffrey gains access to Dorothy’s apartment, but is surprised by her return and hides in her closet. This is where the voyeurism of a Hitchcock film is evoked. Jeffrey sees Dorothy undressing. He makes a noise in the closet. She confronts him with a knife, another penis substitute, reminiscent of the one in Psycho. She then becomes sexual with him, enticing him, and alternately is rough and threatening. We see where she gets this combining sex with violence when Frank Booth (Dennis Hopper) arrives. Jeffrey again hides in the closet. Hopper is great at being bizarre. During his assault of Dorothy, he alternately sees himself as a baby, with Dorothy as the mother. Then the son becomes the “daddy,” the lover. He places a piece of blue velvet in his mouth and hers. It becomes a lurid safety blanket, combining innocence with lust. He is the Oedipus child who sleeps with the mother, after having kidnapped Dorothy’s son and husband, removing them from the equation, but using them as leverage against Dorothy. He keeps telling her not to look at him, maybe out of shame and confusion given the symbolic incestuous situation.


Jeffrey is drawn to Dorothy, and revisits her. He is also the child who is aroused by this mother figure. (In a later scene, Sandy’s jealous boyfriend, after chasing the pair, sees a naked and dazed Dorothy on Jeffrey’s porch and asks Jeffrey “Is that your mother?”) Jeffrey handles the hat with the propeller on top that belongs to the kidnapped son, thus appearing as a substitute for the child. Then, Jeffrey has sex with Dorothy, who asks him to hit her, which he does. She later says she has “his disease in me,” implying that the reproductive cycle is a vicious one. Frank shows up, jealous of “neighbor” Jeffrey, and takes him for “a joy ride” to “Pussy Heaven.” What follows is an initiation into “manhood” for Jeffrey. But at this establishment, run by Ben (A pasty, almost clown make-up wearing Dean Stockwell), no sex occurs, except the implied homosexual connection between Frank and Ben. Frank is the demonic father now who shows Jeffrey what beer to drink. Ben, and later Frank after they leave Ben’s establishment, show the adopted “son” how to take a punch like a man. Before he beats Jeffrey as his minions hold the youth, Frank puts on lipstick and kisses him. Again, violence is associated with sex. In this case, Frank wants Jeffrey to look at him. It’s almost as if the homosexual experience is less intimidating than the heterosexual one. When Jeffrey is back home and wakes up with his mother and aunt, he feels that he has been asked too many questions about his bruises. He says with surface affection but with underlying menace that if the questions persist, someone’s “going to get it.” The brutal entrance into grown up masculinity is taking effect.


And what about Jeffrey’s mother? She figuratively abandons Jeffrey, watching disturbing movies with men creeping up stairs (to bedrooms?) and carrying guns (more phallic symbols). In the subtext of this movie, her husband is rendered impotent, possibly to be replaced by the son, but Jeffrey feels abandoned subconsciously, and is out seeking mother and father replacements in all the wrong places.

Jeffrey hides and takes pictures and implicates Frank and “the yellow man” (who turns out to be a corrupt cop) in drug trafficking. Jeffrey goes back to Dorothy’s apartment (he can’t seem to stop going through the looking glass to the dark side) and sees a lobotomized “yellow man” and Dorothy’s dead husband, who is bound and gagged,  reminding us of how Jeffrey’s father appeared in the hospital. He knows that Frank is on his tail and he hides out in the closet again. This time he has the “yellow man’s” gun. He shoots Frank Booth in the head, sort of the opposite of Booth shooting Lincoln (a Lincoln Street sign is shown in the film).


The end of the film has the camera showing a close up of Jeffrey’s attached, non-vermin infested ear, and then panning out, revisiting the fence, roses and waving man, as if all is well. Jeffrey is with Sandy, and her parents are there at Jeffrey’s house, with his parents, his father recovered from his illness. But, an obviously fake robin shows up at the window with a writhing insect in its mouth. We saw legions of ravenous ants at the beginning underneath the Beaumont lawn. The corrupt police officer, who is supposed to be a symbol of law and order, wears a “yellow jacket,” which is a stinging insect. It appears here that the waking world is just a deceptively safe veneer covering the dark infestation beneath.

Some people admire this film, others hate it. Where do you stand?

Next week’s film is All About Eve.