Me, David Lynch, and a cup of Coffee
No, I didn’t actually have coffee with Mr. Lynch.
In fact, I’ve never met the man, as the title might imply.
More so, I’ve never had the pleasure of attending a lecture, or a screening of his most recent premier.
By the time I took hold of cinema as my art-form I was in my mid-twenties, and Lynch, who had just released TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN, had slowly shifted into a later stage of life where the identify of the “active” filmmaker gave way to the living retrospective.
The myth of the “Lynchian” had already taken hold.
Even before then, at the turn of the 21st century, when Mulholland Drive released, David Keith Lynch was already revered for his singular body work that spanned not just the screen, but canvas, as well.
He was the great surrealist. A painter, first and foremost. An artist who committed to the visions conjured in imagination. An architect dead-set on calcifying his dreams for our experience.
A serious artist who’s florid sensibilities first exploded onto screens with ERASER HEAD, a trippy, zonked-out exploration of parenthood.
Though critics scoffed at the other-worldly images projected on screen, audiences around the world saw something unique.
Ladies in radiators, alien fetuses, wild hair-dos. Yeah, We knew Lynch was cooking something special.
The story of film history will forever be one linked to the story of commerce. These are expensive propositions. Return on investments are murky at best. But Lynch’s success is rare one, in that it flies in the face of this symbiosis.
He’s been nominated for Academy Awards!
He’s leveraged his talents to produce DUNE, a big sci-fi fiasco with a behind-the-scenes-story that’s more interesting than the text, itself.
One could even theorize that, in a world chock-full of artist-driven, prestige television, TWIN PEAKS might just be the first of it’s kind! As if conquering film wasn’t enough…
Whether his projects were straight out of left field (WILD AT HEART, LOST HIGHWAY, and INLAND EMPIRE) or studio assignments (THE ELEPHANT MAN, THE STRAIGHT STORY) his films were always singular in vision.
The word Lynchian is spray-painted over them all.
I look at his filmography, and I see a man who’s never let go of his childlike wonder. Sometimes the films get messy like in the case of INLAND EMPIRE which feels impenetrable, but they’re never sloppy.
You always feel the master’s hands behind the steering wheel.
And man, did he hustled for his art
The story of his first film, ERASER HEAD, might be inexorably linked to the history of midnight movies, but the behind-the-scenes story of that film’s genesis is nothing short of stunning.
Made over the course of six years and with limited funding from the American Film Institute, the 89-minute film was cobbled together by passionate student filmmakers. On weekends, on vacations, over holiday breaks.
In fact, By the time Lynch and his first wife, Peggy Lentz, had separated, mid-production, Lynch had elected to live on set. When he wasn’t filming, he was making extra cash as a door-to-door newspaper distributor.
All this, for a surrealist head-trip that would be loved the world over. A testament to Lynch’s uncanny ability to describe his visions.
Or should I say his dreams.
Here’s a hot take: I happen to believe that Lynch’s best work, the works that most speak to me, are the ones that are primarily rooted in convention.
These are the films that come, not from David Lynch the painter, but from David Lynch, the film lover. The admirer of Alfred Hitchcock, Federico Fellini, and Billy Wilder.
This is why BLUE VELVET is my favorite of his features.
It is the film that adequately takes the pulse of the human animal.
BLUE VELVET tells the story of Jeffrey, a college student who returns to his home town of Lumberton, North Carolina, in aid of ailing father.
While on a walk, Jeffrey stumbles upon a severed human ear. Transfixed by the ear, he sets out to find the owner with the help of girl-next-door, Sandy. Their investigation leads them down a a rabbit hole better left alone.
The town of Lumberton is all one big facade: bucolic streets; white-picket fences; mailmen waving hello, as they dole out the morning paper.
As Jeffrey and Sandy delve deeper into the search, we are introduced to the scum hiding in plain sight — — the veil of this idealistic Americana is thus lifted, revealing the filth.
We are introduced to Pimps, Jazz singers, criminals, odd-ball gangsters. All the while, I was left in a stupor by the speed at which these deplorable elements announce themselves.
BLUE VELVET is a movie of images and the power inherent in them. A psycho-sexual mystery that begs for varied, passionate interpretation. And passionate, they were…
If you’re an ardent fan of David Lynch, you must take it upon yourself to speak his gospel. If you’re new to the picture, might I suggest you first watch the aforementioned BLUE VELVET?
When I first heard of the news of Lynch’s passing I was on my way to watch THE BRUTALIST screening in 35mm at the Enzian theater in Orlando, Fl.
I was in a daze. This one felt real. Real in a way other pieces of unfortunate film-related news haven’t before. My brother, a passionate Lynch fan, joined me in line later and we exchanged solemn glances. The night, initial one filled with excitement took a sad turn.
However, we both took solace in the thought that Lynch would have loved to have been in that environment. On a Thursday evening somewhere in Orlando, in line with other film-lovers pining for a feature projected in celluloid.
Oh, what dreams may come.
Rest in peace, Maestro.
