Review of Inland Empire (2006) by Thanassis T — 21 Apr 2009

OK, so two days ago a lady comes to my door explaining that she's my new neighbor, having just moved in down the way. I invite her in and over a cup of coffee she tells me that she heard I was going to write a review for Inland Empire. "Oh no, you're mistaken" I said, "I haven't even seen the film yet. Apparently it's pretty popular and Netflix says that there is a 'long wait' just to get it." She shook her head and said that she had it on good authority that I would be writing the review soon. She even said that "if today were tomorrow I'd be sitting right there" (she pointed straight at my sofa). I don't have to tell you that I wasted no time in ushering her out the door.

So that's not even the strange part, yesterday I was sitting on the couch watching my favorite sitcom (you know, the one about the family of giant rabbits who live in a human house and wear human clothes) when I hear the postman on the porch. I get up and meet him at the door and guess what he hands me? Yes, my Netflix copy of Inland Empire! The mailman noticed my excitement and asked me what was up. When I showed him which film it was he got a worried look in his eyes. "What's wrong?" I asked. He proceeded to tell me that he'd heard that Inland Empire was cursed. "What?" I exclaimed, "What do you mean by cursed?" He said that it was actually a remake of a film made a long time ago in Germany. He knew a guy who knew a guy who knew a guy who was there when it happened. It seems that this other film was being reviewed by a gentleman in Germany when, suddenly, the guy writing the review was brutally murdered.

Can you imagine the stress that put on me? Just thinking about such odd occurrences made me spill ketchup all over my brand new t-shirt. Well sir, you'll never guess what I found when I came upstairs to change. In my room there were SIX prostitutes! Confirmed, I counted them twice, six prostitutes in my house, every single one pantomiming Little Eva tunes and doing Busby Berkeley dance routines. I was fit to be tied. I said, "Ladies, I have here in my hand a DVD of David Lynch's Inland Empire which is pretty darn near three hours long. I have neither the time nor the inclination to affiliate with all of you at present so four of you are going to have to leave.".

That's when the phone rang. It was that rabbit in the business suit. He told me that there were some men on the way to take me to a place where I could get better. He said that my insurance wouldn't cover private amenities so I would likely have to share a room with someone. He said not to worry though because he was pretty sure that the bed next to Mr. Lynch was empty and the two of us could share a Dell laptop. That way David could get started on his next screenplay and I could post my review of Inland Empire.

To be continued...