Review of Mulholland Dr. (1999) by Blake P — 13 Aug 2014

It begins with a car crash. Everyone involved dies, except for one - a brunette in a black dress (Laura Elena Harring) that possesses looks that could kill with a perfectly timed bat of an eye lash and a shimmy of a hip. Battered, bloodied, and bruised, she makes her way to a luxurious condo in Los Angeles, avoiding danger that she knows is around the corner.

Betty Elms is an aspiring actress from rural Ohio. When she arrives at LAX, there is a glimmering naiveness in her wide eyes that we can tell will surely be crushed - unless she actually is a soon-to-be-starlet. As she is portrayed by Naomi Watts, it doesn't seem too far off.

She plans to stay at her wealthy aunt's flat while attempting to get a job, but as soon she sets her bags down she finds a woman in the shower, that woman being the brunette in a black dress that survived the car crash. That woman is an amnesiac, who decides that her name must be Rita after seeing the poster for the famous Rita Hayworth vehicle, "Gilda".

Most would throw Rita out. But Betty is a cute blonde who wears pink sweaters, and there isn't a mean bone in her body. The two become friends and later lovers, but it appears that Rita may be in deeper trouble than we might think.

But then, Betty transforms into a bitter, cold woman named Diane, while Rita becomes Camilla, who takes pleasure in emotionally tormenting her girlfriend. The previous story may not have been a mystery, but it feels like one. We want to know what happened to Betty and Rita - yet at the same time, we can hardly wait to see what Lynch is going to give us next.

"Mulholland Dr." etch-a-sketches its way through several seemingly unrelated events about Hollywood, and the results are poisonous, deadly, but full of sleek neo-noir attitudes. Many of Lynch's films have been interesting to watch but cold to the touch, but "Mulholland Dr." may as well be his masterpiece. Things are as disjointed as ever, but like his seminal TV series "Twin Peaks", there is enough mystery and enough human magnetism to draw us into a world of crime and corruption.

There isn't a plot to speak of, only terrific performances by a game cast and individual scenes that don't come together but make a lasting impression. Depending on Lynch's mood, there is either surrealism, hot on display, or scenes pulsing with texture that could fit into any commercial film.

The finest surreal piece comes from Betty and Rita's trip to a nightclub called the "Silencio", where they are given a show hosted by a supremely creepy ringmaster-y goon, starring a torch singer passionately lip syncing to song that makes Betty and Rita sob hysterically. The finest real piece is shown through the former's audition for a role that she nails. The scene is piping hot and full of sexual tension, but the second the casting director yells cut, we nearly forget that Betty was in an audition in the first place.

There is a flawless balance between the crazy and the professional - Lynch is able to establish enough characterization that his moments of wildness don't feel cloying. He never gets carried away. You could say that the film is like a passage through a tunnel in Lynch's brain. On one side is Edward Hopper. On the other is Salvador Dali.

Normally, Lynch's style overcomes his actors' performances, no matter how good; but Watts, in her breakthrough role, has never been better. Surely, actresses are set-pieces in Lynch's films - just look at Patricia Arquette in "Lost Highway", who seemed willing to do anything, yet played two women who felt a little bit too much like comic book femme fatales. But Watts doesn't ever seem lost in a Lynch's vision: she commands every scene she appears in. As Betty, she glows. Betty's hopes and dreams may be as big as her eyes, but Watts doesn't make her a one-dimensional Sandra Dee act-a-like that we want to hate. And Diane, who is a depressive Veronica Lake post-career type, is a much more difficult role, but Watts hits it right in the kisser. She possesses such talent that she is the only actor in "Mulholland Dr." that makes the scene all about her, not Lynch featuring her.

Roger Ebert put it best when he said that "Mulholland Dr." is a movie you "surrender yourself to." You can't walk in the door with a smart-alecky eye-brow arch; you have to leave your smarts and so-called intelligence at the door. The film is a dreamy nightmare that engulfs you in its inexplicable jolts but hypnotizes you with its unpredictability. David Lynch knows what he wants, and he gets it.