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Is it Really Just Creamed Corn? David Lynch and Surrealism
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...on the up side, I bet housing is really cheap up here.
Nothing simultaneously frightens and fascinates me quite as much as a David Lynch film. I spent Saturday afternoon (and the greater part of Sunday) plowing through a friend's ten disc, "gold box" edition, Twin Peaks DVD collection. On a cold, gloomy, and rainy Saturday afternoon, basking in post-halloween party languor, a Twin Peaks marathon hit the spot.
David Lynch's characters inhabit surreal spaces that fester under the guise of normalcy: small, quaint towns (Twin Peaks, Blue Velvet) or anonymous urban/industrial spaces (Eraserhead, Mulholland Drive) provide thin facades for hideously perverse and seedy underworlds. Although this description already sounds like a hackneyed horror movie formula in which the seemingly ordinary town/protagonist(s) become plagued by evil forces, you can be assured that Lynch's films are NEVER formulaic--predictable perhaps, only in the sense that he eschews the notion of plot altogether.
That said, I find Lynch's films to be more of an experiential affair than the average movie going experience--one doesn't watch things happen in Lynch movies so much as things happen to YOU. A sense of dread and anxiety hangs over the dark chiaroscuro of his sets. The background music varies from ominous white noise, strange sounds, and old pop music. There are little people. There are people in furry costumes. There are random dance/musical sequences. There are dancing little people. And then there's the log lady...
If these stylistic oddities don't deter viewers, the lurid characters that occuply these surreal realms are equally bizarre and disturbing (see Dennis Hopper in Blue Velvet...absolutely horrifying). David Lynch is difficult for me (and I think, most people) to watch because his female characters are usually either victims of physical or sexual abuse, are manipulating vixens, or impregnable symbols of beauty and innocence. To this day, I am still unable to reconcile my aversion to Lynch's depictions of violence (upon women) with my fascination for his formal style--it is hard for me to maintain an emotional distance from what I am seeing on screen.
All these factors, in addition to Lynch's complete obliteration (or rethinking) of plot, make for a truly surreal experience. I can not help but compare his work to that of Luis Bunuel, surrealist filmaker who created with the likes of Salvador Dali, most famously in the 1928 short, Un Chien Andalou. Trying to explain exactly what is going on in Un Chien Andalou is not unlike trying to explain a David Lynch movie: nearly impossible and inconclusive (Lynch himself remains mum about what happens in his movies. Lynch's refusal to come forth about his intention in his films has led some viewers to write him and his work off as pretentious trash). Furthermore, I think Lynch and the surrealist filmakers share a preoccupation with the Freudian implications of the gaze and the power (sometimes violent) that this confers onto its female subject. One of the central themes of surrealism is the fascination with Freudianism and the notion of woman as embodiment of both sexual threat and desire--a theme that finds its way into Lynch's filmaking. Lynch's dream and or nightmare-like sequences in which the unconscious and unexpected substitute for reality and logic also remind me of Dali's collaboration in the dream sequences of Hitchcock's 1945 thriller, Spellbound. (Fyi: This past September I had a chance to visit the NY MOMA and check out their exhibition of Dali's films. It was awesome to see some of Dali's visual cues translate into the filmic format).
Lynch's work, though often disturbing, can be fun to watch merely to keep track of his stylistic influences including Hitchcock, Bunuel, and Stanley Kubrick (among many others). Lynch's styling of his female characters as classically beautiful damsels in distress, mystery subplot, as well as the retro details in set design reference Hitchock. Bunuel for his taste for surrealist themes and imagery. Stanley Kubrick for his dark humor, distinctive use of music and light to create atmosphere, and for his ability to reveal the beautiful as well as the grotesquely ugly facets of human nature.
David Lynch is not for everyone. However, Twin Peaks is a good place to start because it was (shockingly!) a syndicated television show that aired on CBS back in the early 90s and therefore, relatively palatable as an introduction to Lynch. It still blows my mind that the big dogs at a major network television station thought it would be a good idea to give David Lynch a television show.
One last thought: I now have a craving for pie and black coffee when I watch Twin Peaks. Kyle McLachlan just makes the coffee and pie ala mode look so "damn good."
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