~findlay’s review published on Letterboxd:
Come, meet me in the recesses of abstraction where I find myself in.
///these are the shades of my trauma///
that delivery and expression on Sheryl Lee's face after the "there are things even Donna doesnt know about me.." put a single tear down my cheek. This is a woman who has suffered at the hands of evil and torment. An abuser whom a teenage mind has redefined and locked away and lied to herself about because of the Hellish Truth of it all.
A woman whose pain and anguish have capitulated to self destruction. The confidence and life is gone.
This being all said, i can see why people, especially in his heady 90s days, assumed Lynch was a pisstaking surrealist (which he is), but some of the dream-like stuff sometimes feels ~too~ silly to care about.
Fuck it all though because whats in here is the core and essence of human darkness. A feast of human disintegration. with a score that makes you want to take your skin off and never look at it again.