Everybody's doing a brand new dance now
I went to see Inland Empire over the weekend. David Lynch is on record as saying that to him the film makes total, absolute sense. He's also on record as saying the title should always be capitalised, which is precisely why I haven't done that.
When it got to the point where Laura Dern finds herself in a hotel room and a bunch of prostitutes quite literally appear out of nowhere before one of them takes their top off and then they all do a dance routine to "The Locomotion", I realised why Lynch thinks this film makes sense; it's a practical joke. David Lynch is having a laugh. Film academics will be intellectually masturbating over this film for years to come, searching for the hidden meaning, trying to unravel the fractured narrative and banging on about Lynch's flair for dream logic and haunting imagery. But really, there's nothing there. And Lynch knows it. And he's enjoying watching people wax profound over what is essentially a three hour whoopee cushion. Well I didn't fall for it. I thought it was absolute bollocks. I didn't mind the first 45 minutes, I was sort of intrigued by it. That was it though. Shame.
2 comments:
Not that I didn't find the rest of it equally confusing, but David Lynch forever lost me when those little old people came crawling out and grew to human size to kill Naomi Watts in "Mulholland Drive."
David Lynch is like a pop quiz where I get every answer wrong. I loved Fire Walk with Me and Mulholland Dr. I hated Wild at Heart. I saw Blue Velvet with an aunt who fast-forwarded through the parts that made her uncomfortable. It was an interesting way to spend 10 minutes. But I guess Dune was pretty bad. Maybe I get half credit for that one.
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