Director Report Card: David Lynch (2001)

11. Mulholland Drive

Supposedly, following the cancellation of “Twin Peaks,” and presumably “Hotel Room” and “On the Air” both flopping, David Lynch supposedly wrote the words “I will never do television again” on a piece of plywood. However, his agent Tony Kurtz kept encouraging him to work in the format. Eventually, David pitched a premise to ABC which resulted in a 90 minute pilot. Showing how much the television landscape had changed since “Peaks'” debuted, ABC declined to pick up the series. Once again, opportunity arose out of failure for Lynch. Quickly, French production company Canal+ would step in to provide the additional funds to turn “Mulholland Drive” from a failed television pilot into a completed feature film. The resulting picture would be enthusiastically received by critics, with some even declaring it Lynch's best work.

Along Muholland Drive in Los Angeles, a mysterious woman is threatened in the back seat of her limousine. After another car collides with the vehicle, the woman wanders off into a near-by home. She has no memory of who she is and, inspired by a poster of Rita Hayworth, takes the name “Rita.” The resident of the home is Betty, an aspiring actress who has just arrived in Hollywood. She quickly strikes up a friendship – and more – with the mysterious Rita, determined to uncover the truth around her identity. As other stories swirl in the city of dreams, it soon becomes apparent that Betty and Rita are not what they appear to be.

Though conceived for television, “Mulholland Drive” clearly continues the themes and ideas introduced in “Lost Highway.” This is another neo-noir mystery set in L.A., dealing with duality and alternate personalities. It should be known by now the twist that occurs in its last half-hour. We discover the story of Betty and Rita is the fantasy of Diane Selwyn, a failed actress who is still reeling from a break-up. This splintered story directly causes certain people and images to have double meanings. An ominous meeting in a Denny's-style dinner later becomes a prologue to murder. A lovably maternal land-lady is revealed to be the mother-in-law Diane has always wanted but was denied. A blue key goes from unlocking memory to unlocking guilt. Though similar in construction to “Lost Highway,” Lynch is less concerned here with neo-noir conventions. Instead, he's crafting an intoxicating dream that reflects back on reality and vice versa.

While “Lost Highway” simply used L.A. as a seedy backdrop, “Mulholland Drive” is more concerned with the meaning behind Hollywood. The morning after meeting her, Betty reads through her lines with Rita. It's an unconvincing reading and both dismiss the material as silly. Later, during the actual audition, the exchange becomes intense, mournful, and full of erotic longing. This is not who Betty is – a phrase which applies to the whole film – yet she perfectly projects this persona. A key word repeated throughout “Mulholland Drive” is “illusion.” Acting is an illusion too, the performer creating a fantasy of someone else. The last third of the film focuses on how Hollywood, the mythic dream-land where anyone can become a star, is an illusion too. And so, “Mulholland Drive's” story of false memories and unreal dreams becomes a metaphor for the world it takes place in, of people pretending to be someone else and a land that promises everything and delivers only broken hearts.

This is not the only illusion “Mulholland Drive” concerns itself with. The film begins with a surreal cascade of 1950s-style youths swing dancing. The film-within-the-film is “The Sylvia North Story,” seemingly a biopic of a vintage pop star. A key sequence involves a series of actresses lip-syncing to presumably one of Miss North's songs on a sound stage. There's always been a thread of nostalgia running through Lynch's films, a retro-aesthetic that recalls 1950s naivety. You see this in “Mulholland Drive's” characters, in Betty's squeaky-clean attitudes and her love of a good mystery. (Which links her to Jeffrey Beaumont and Dale Cooper.) Yet all of this turns out to be a lie, part of Diane Selwyn's self-deluding fantasy. Thus, “Mulholland Drive's” nostalgia, and the nostalgia seen in many of Lynch's films, is revealed as another illusion. Another lie we tell ourselves to feel better about the world.

A plot thread running through the first part of “Mulholland Drive” – that presumably would've formed the on-going story had the show gone to series – concerns Adam Kesher, the director of “The Sylvia North Story.” A mysterious mobster, who has even stranger employees, seeks to manipulate the casting of the film. This adds another layer to the deception inside “Mulholland Drive.” Kesher fancies himself a true auteur, whose visions will not be easily compromised. Lynch decorates this story with his typical surreal touches. Michael J. Anderson, “Twin Peaks'” Man from Another Place, plays a six foot tall mobster via prosthetic. A very unusual cowboy delivers his ominous message to Kesher. Yet the director is clearly riffing on real life stories of the connection between Hollywood and organized crime. People go to L.A. to make art but are manipulated and controlled by criminal – and distinctly money-driven – outside forces. It's another deception, another lie, the film industry promises to prospective artist.

If “Mulholland Drive” is a lie Diane Selwyn is telling herself, then the biggest lie is Betty's relationship with Rita. In the brightly-lit fantasy segments, Rita has no memory. She doesn't even know her own name. In fact, she comes to depend entirely on Betty. Never mind that Betty is, herself, a naive and wide-eyed innocent too. We soon learn that Carmilla, Rita's real life equivalent, left Diane to be with a man. Anyone in the throes of heartbreak has probably imagine a world where their lost lover comes back to them. That gives the audience an emotional “in” into Lynch's mood-piece, the story of fantasies and dual realities acting as a nightmare based in loss and regret.

And, of course, any story of love and relationships will eventually have to touch on sex. The clear point where “Mulholland Drive's” TV origins and its feature film future broke off is a love scene between Betty and Rita. It's a moment that's sensual and genuinely erotic in a way Lynch has rarely touched on before. It also stands in harsh contrast to a later scene, after the fantasy is over. Diane masturbates while crying, desperately trying to get back to that feeling of love and warmth that is now gone from her life. This is also the first time Lynch has ever really touched upon homosexuality. It's unsurprising to see some people have looked at “Mulholland Drive's” queer content and its story of shifting identities and see a story about the malleability of human sexuality.

You can't just describe “Mulholland Drive” as a dream though. It's also a nightmare, featuring some of the scariest scenes out of Lynch's entire career. A nervous man sits in Winky's, the aforementioned Denny's-esque dinner, and describes a nightmare he had. This nightmare then comes true, concluding with a horrifying vagrant smoothly sliding out from behind a dumpster. What it means is anyone's guess but Lynch's continued ability to present the grotesque in the commonplace, not to mention his mastery of sound design, makes it an unforgettable moment of surreal horror. And it's not the only one, as “Mulholland Drive's” climax – when Diane's dream logics start to crash in on themselves – features another nightmarish scenario. That would be a tiny elderly couple with frozen smiles crawling under her door. Here, we see her sunny fantasies turning on her, the point where her dreams can no longer provide comfort and instead become part of the nightmare. Simply put, it's also freaky as hell.

Yet it's not all grim denouncements of dreams and fantasy and surreal horror. There are also parts of “Mulholland Drive” that are really funny. A comical episode, that only escalates in ridiculousness as it goes on,  involves an incompetent hitman having to murder more people as he creates more witnesses. Later, after Kesher discovers his wife sleeping with the pool boy, he pours pink paint on her jewelry. That pool boy, by the way, is played by a soft-spoken Billy Ray Cyrus, the incongruity of that casting seeming to be part of the joke. Though we'll never know what “Mulholland Drive” would've looked like as a series, it's easy to see a “Twin Peaks”-like quirky sense of humor in these moments.

All its secret minutia and dream logic aside, “Mulholland Drive” is also a fantastic display for two extremely talented actresses. Naomi Watts is essentially playing two characters. As Betty, she is absolutely charming, a fresh-faced girl that is certain her dreams can come true. As Diane, she is a bitter and sunken-eyed woman who has lost everything. Watts, impressively, swings between these two poles with no problem, finding the emotional link between the two radically different shades. Laura Harring, meanwhile, is utterly enchanting as Rita. No wonder Betty falls in love with her. Harring is gorgeous and so sweetly unarmed that you immediately want to protect her... Which contrasts bluntly with Harring's performance as Carmilla, a worldy femme fatale that knows exactly what she wants and how to get it.

The feature film version of “Mulholland Drive” is largely concerned with Watts and Harring. If the pilot had gone to series, we likely would've seen more development for its various supporting characters. Such as Robert Forester as a detective, a one-scene character here that is oddly played by a recognizable star. Or Angelo Badalamenti showing up on-screen as a mobster that spits up coffee. Of these supporting characters, the one that makes the biggest impression is Justin Theroux as Adam Kesher. Theorux does an excellent job of playing a conceited artsy type, whose talent is outstripped by his own sense of importance. It's easy to imagine the actor was goofing on some directors he's known.

Regardless of what it all means or how it came to be, “Mulholland Drive” shows that nobody can engineer a mood piece the way David Lynch can. The dividing moment in the film, where the dream ends and the nightmare begins, is a visit to a mysterious night club. Here, the film's themes of illusion is spelled out for us. Once again, Lynch turns to Roy Orbison's music to create an unsettling mood of dreamy regret. The combination of visuals and sound in “Mulholland Drive” are all expertly balanced. Whether it's nighttime visit with a mysterious cowboy or smoke wafting over a bed, “Mulholland Drive” is full of unforgettable and implacable images.

It's interesting to me that “Lost Highway” would be largely dismissed by critics while “Mulholland Drive” would receive glowing reviews, with David Lynch even earning a Academy Award nomination for Best Director. The films are so similar. Yet, on the other hand, “Mulholland Drive” is doubtlessly a stronger film than the first entry in the Los Angeles Trilogy. It's alive with strong emotions, of love, regret, and fear while also effortlessly commenting on the artificiality of the film industry. At the same time, it operates beautifully as a powerful and unnerving mood piece. While I'll always be curious about what the television series would've looked like, it's clear that “Mulholland Drive” was always meant to be an intoxicating feature film experience. [Grade: A]