Mulholland Drive ★★★★

You know, this actually made sense to me. I was bracing for a fevered surrealist nightmare, but this felt much more like a coherent narrative than anything else.

I found myself eerily reminded of Bergman's Persona more than once - was that just me? Not only a sense that the two lead women might just be the same person, but a similarly energetic claustrophobia that pulsates in the silences between them. There's sexual energy, but there's also sincere compassion and curiosity at stake. There's an unravelling of identity. A vision of the future - or is that the past? An innocence shattered.

I think Lynch is great because he can so effectively tell pieces of a story that somehow improve the central narrative without explanation. I wasn't at all bothered by the early conversation between two men at the diner (although the monster scared the hell out of me) because it somehow just made sense. When the young man appears again for a brief second near the end, it was just like, well of course. I don't know HOW Lynch does this so well - I've often been frustrated and hopelessly baffled by difficult and impractical narratives - but he does, and Mulholland Drive is one hell of a ride. Its critique of the Hollywood industry (which also feels like an ode) is palpable and purposeful. This film is a nightmarish dream, but it's a strange wonder to behold.

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