6) Mulholland Drive
David Lynch is the Coen brothers if all they ever did was the surreal stuff from Barton Fink. I appreciate the exploration of dreams by Christopher Nolan very much, particularly on an intellectual level, but on the level of the visceral weirdness that entails the common experience of dreams, there may be no one better at capturing such a feeling than David Lynch. Fittingly, 2001’s Mulholland Drive saw him turn his attention to a strange story involving an actress moving to Los Angeles in hopes of making it in the film industry.
A large portion of audience members are of course occupied with figuring out the puzzle of this complicated and confusing story, urged on by Lynch himself, who has stated that the movie is perfectly coherent if you pay close attention. That’s not really how I watch. The experience of the movie, its dreamlike feel that is always on the border between dream and nightmare, and some of its show-stopping moments like Betty’s audition, gives a distinct impression of this Los Angeles setting where dreams are dashed daily, and there seems to exist a deep darkness in the fantasies the industry and culture perpetuate. Hence J. Hoberman’s apt description, that Mulholland Drive is a “poisonous valentine to Hollywood.”
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