I just saw the movie/film "Blue Velvet"

[godardian]

I really want to see Ebert's televised interview before commenting on that further, but for me, I don't think the treatment of Rossellini was the primary issue Ebert took with the film.  That was just one of many things wrong with it.  What it all comes down to is narrative, really.  If a film is advertised as such, it should be.  Not that I have anything against more abstract films, it's just that Lynch's style in the two films I've seen is really annoying.

Mulholland Drive and Blue Velvet were both hypnotic and mesmorizing for the first two acts, but they fell apart, because Lynch draws on his own experiences and dreams, throws them into his films, and expects that to be a sufficient way to tie things up, when really, we're wanting not so much a valid explanation or justification, or even a closure, but simply something that gels.

Some writers say stories should have a beginning, middle, and an end, not necessarily in that order.  That may or not be sufficient, depending on who you ask.  I think something can be accomplished in film even eschewing that.  But Lynch was just careless, and that's what I believe Ebert is getting at.  And if not, I know at least I sure am.

EDIT: Lynch's dreams and experiences don't mean anything to us, and he shouldn't expect them to.  Perhaps he should save those for his paintings, or at least gather his thoughts to make the images he's found in his subconscious more relevant to what he's discussing.  Lynch's films (again, the two I've seen) don't really have a point other than to provoke you.  And that, too, is careless.

I think it's wrong to say that Lynch is putting anything "personal" into his films, or that what he puts there doesn't mean anything to "us" (speak for yourself).

I found both Blue Velvet and Mulholland Dr. to be very moving, especially the latter. I think Lynch uses archetypes- both cinematic and cultural (which boils down to Jungian, I guess, though I hate to use that word) to get at emotions, and to explore themes of innocence and corruption.

I think a lot of these complaints have to do with frustration at not being able to approach Lynch's films in a terribly literal way and come up with anything satisfactory. You really need to be able to associate in symbolic ways, to "read" the hermetic semiotic structure of them. It's not that difficult, but it's something I guess people are averse to, for some reason. Mulholland Dr. and Blue Velvet both make perfect sense to me. I personally don't think Lynch goes for provocation, in either form or content. Not nearly to the extent that, say, Scorsese does. I think his goal is to move you. He has a beautifully intricate and complex way of doing that, which I really appreciate.

Oddly, though, I don't like Lost Highway, for reasons that have more to do with its slickness and easiness (it has the look and feel of a Marilyn Manson video, which is NOT to my liking) than with any of the other things we're talking about here.

[Gold Trumpet]

I never really considered Blue Velvet of the mesmerizing kind of work like Muholland Dr. simply because the structure of Blue Velvet feels so typical, typical that Godardian is able to give a very famous movie that Blue Velvet is in relation to. And in the typical structure, the film only goes so far into the subject. Muholland Dr. on the other hand, has no major identifiable structure at all that can categorize it and it simply acts as a dream of sorts, where things come in and out of curiosity that may lead the viewer to think he can complete the puzzle, but really can't. Blue Velvet feels like it operating on a typical level and is able to show a controversial subject in that light even if it is not the most fufilling or mature considering how thought out and wonderful Muholland Dr. is.

~rougerum

[godardian]

Muholland Dr. on the other hand, has no major identifiable structure at all that can categorize it and it simply acts as a dream of sorts, where things come in and out of curiosity that may lead the viewer to think he can complete the puzzle, but really can't.

~rougerum

I'm not sure the structure you describe accurately sums up Mulholland Dr., but it does The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie. I don't think saying one film reminds you in ways of others means that the first film isn't original or unique. I prefer the word "unique" because, in my opinion, no story is unique. There are, in fact, a very limited number of human stories. In fact, all stories we listen to and tell each other can probably be found in Greek literature and the bible. I think Lynch has his very own distinctive style and sensibility, and that's all storytelling is: The screening of some already-existing narrative through a distinct, specific sensibility/style.

Read what my avatar depicts for further insights into the idea of the author as, in the end, the shaper rather than the creator of any given text. This includes any text- in music, in painting, in literature, in cinema- that can be  shaped.

[ono]

I think it's wrong to say that Lynch is putting anything "personal" into his films, or that what he puts there doesn't mean anything to "us"

He (Lynch) told me, for example, that the scene of Rossellini naked in the night was inspired by his childhood: "When I was little, my brother and I were outdoors late one night, and we saw a naked woman come walking down the street toward us in a dazed state, crying. I have never forgotten that moment." What about the scenes in which a woman finds she loves sadomasochistic abuse more than her own family?

I should also go on to say that somewhere (I forget where) Lynch was quoted as saying he had this fantasy as a boy about cracking a murder mystery while hiding in a closet.  Hence, the all-too-neat plot tie-up where he (oh, EXCUSE ME, Jeffrey) guns down Frank after hiding in Dorothy's apartment one last time.

But what does that mean to the audience?  Nothing.  Here is one place where we expect Lynch's creativity to shine, but instead he opts for the conventional only to satisfy his boyhood fantasy.

At two times in the film, father and son watch Fellini's "8 1/2," particularly the scene where the hero gathers all of the women in his life into the same room and tries to tame and placate them. After the second viewing, the father asks the son, "How many film directors make films to satisfy their sexual fantasies?" "Most of them," his son replies. This one for sure.

And Lynch, too, I'm sure.

(speak for yourself).

I did.  ;)

I found both Blue Velvet and Mulholland Dr. to be very moving, especially the latter.

How?

I think Lynch uses archetypes- both cinematic and cultural (which boils down to Jungian, I guess, though I hate to use that word) to get at emotions, and to explore themes of innocence and corruption.

Ah, but using archetypes is easy; anyone can do it.  One thing I can concede to is that Lynch did it exceptionally well in Mulholland Drive.  No examples are needed for anyone whose seen the film, and if I recount them, it will just give me a false sense of respect for the film.  Because as Ebert said in his review of Blue Velvet:

As an experienced and clever film critic, I even know how to write fashionable praise about the film - how to interpret the director's message, how to show I am bright enough to understand his subtleties. I can even rationalize his extremes and explain how only philistines will dislike the work.

I know how to write that kind of review, but damn it all, I would be reviewing the movie's style and ignoring its lost soul.

Did I mention how much I love Ebert?  No?  Well, I love Ebert.  ;)

His subtleties, being in this case, in Mulholland Drive where Lynch uses archetypes UP THE YIN YANG, but they don't add up to anything.  And anyone can throw in a bunch of archetypes, elevate their frequencies, and execute parodies of them that ring so true they could be substituted for the real thing.  But still, all you're left with is this empty feeling because there is a lost soul here that is apparent in both of these movies, just like Ebert said (of the former, but not the latter, sadly).

To me, it's almost like after hating Lynch for all his career, Ebert finally gave up, and said "alright, you win, I concede, you can have your loosely structured mess of a movie, and finally I'll analyze it positively for once.  Now, how many stars did you want?"

I think a lot of these complaints have to do with frustration at not being able to approach Lynch's films in a terribly literal way and come up with anything satisfactory. You really need to be able to associate in symbolic ways, to "read" the hermetic semiotic structure of them.

hermetic: impervious or sealed off against outside influences
semiotic: of or relating to semantics

Do you just like using big words to make yourself sound smart?  And I'm not saying this to be rude, or facetious, or anything.  That just seemed really unnecessarily condescending.

No film lives in a vacuum.  For Lynch to expect us to allow his work to exist in a vacuum is unrealistic and disrespectful to his audience.

It's not that difficult, but it's something I guess people are averse to, for some reason. Mulholland Dr. and Blue Velvet both make perfect sense to me.

I think we all have to draw the line somewhere.  Consider this potential conversation:

Me: It's not normal.
You: Well, that's good!
Me: Why?
You: Because it makes sense, and you have to understand that to get it, and if you don't get it, you're not in tune to his channel, his wavelength, of thought.  And therefore you're just stupid.

That conversation is just silly.  There is another argument: David Lynch is insane.  There is a fucking hilarious web site floating around IMDb.com that gets posted whenever Lynch comes up.  The guy seems relatively anti-social and somewhat crazy himself, but his rant on Lynch had some truly valid points on that.  "I liked the movie but I didn't get it" seems to be the #1 comment on Lynch.

It's like some of the pictures I've read about that Andy Warhol made primarily in the 60s (haven't seen any yet, as they, too, are rare).  They made no sense, but were deemed cool by countercultures on that merit alone.

I personally don't think Lynch goes for provocation, in either form or content.

How can you watch Mulholland Drive and say Lynch didn't try to provoke you?  All it was was one provocation after another.

He sets up this mystery narrative where he gets you to identify with the "heroine" (and I use that term loosely), and then two-thirds of the way through when things just start to get interesting, and you feel as if it's going to be wrapped up ingeniously (I loved the Silencio! scene), Lynch takes his little Snow Globe of a movie, turns it over, shakes it up, and throws it up against the wall, smashing it to bits.  It turns into this simple, simmering, jaded lover's quarrel with the two heroines dancing around topless.

And there's all this amazing, spooky, archetypal imagery in the story (the old woman hobo, the midget exec, the cowboy, the detectives) that never gets tied in with any explanation other than "it's all part of this grand death dream").  And then, to make matters worse, we're subjected to her suicide, her decaying corpse, and one of the freakiest images I've ever seen in film, the image of those cockroach-sized elderly people - and what they had to do with the film, other than them being this girl's grandparents, perhaps, no one except Lynch will know for sure.

All Lynch succeeded in doing was pissing me off and freaking me out.  Hence, provoking me to hate his film for pulling the rug out from under it.

The thing that really bugs me about this, is I can see Lynch's genius just waiting to get out, yet he still hasn't done it, because hasn't matured yet, and he still enjoys playing tricks on the audience instead of connecting with them.

Not nearly to the extent that, say, Scorsese does. I think his goal is to move you. He has a beautifully intricate and complex way of doing that, which I really appreciate.

I never thought I'd hear Lynch compared to Scorsese.  Although, they both seem rather one-note oriented.

Oddly, though, I don't like Lost Highway, for reasons that have more to do with its slickness and easiness (it has the look and feel of a Marilyn Manson video, which is NOT to my liking) than with any of the other things we're talking about here.

Haven't seen Lost Highway.  I will when I can.  The draw is always there for Lynch films, because no matter how much I may despise what he does with his characters, and his narrative, I know I will always get something unique.

[SoNowThen]

I agree with pretty much everything you brought up there because those are the same problems I have with Lynch.

But one thing: Godardian talking about the hermetic semiotic structure is right on the money. That phrase makes perfect sense. To like Lynch you must read the film on his own terms, and not based on the traditional narrative of regular Hollywood films. Hence, a closed-in reading based on those symbols/themes/techniques that he wishes to express in a completely unique way for this particular film, and his body of work as a whole. I don't get his body of work, but I can respect it.

[ShanghaiOrange]

The problem with Blue Velvet: it didn't have a hook.

The only thing I liked was the Double Ed character, but he only had two scenes.

[Gold Trumpet]

Godardian, I understand what you mean that we are limited by stories to tell and such, but I'm not talking about that really. The stories we are limited by are just the general ones and in movies, two different movies with different structures can be telling the same story really under it all. The coloring in of the text is where you can find ambiguilty and such that can not be seen as a reduction to where you took it from and such. I don't mind that Lynch takes a particular style, but I really don't believe Lynch's own purposes for his film really can be achieved well in just taking Hitchcock's style to his own. I feel Lynch is trying to show a subject and transform it into the one of dream like film where the movement and mood of the film over take the viewer. Instead, I felt the movie confined to the specifically bare searching of a subject that Hitchcock's structure had because at the end of the day, Hitchcock was making thrillers only. I wanted Lynch to open up more in the film and provide a story that could explore the subject more in a story with more freedom. I have nothing against using Hitchcock's classic structure for your own play in ways, if you can keep it some creationism of your own, but Blue Velvet feels like a missplaced attempt because it is a film that in its subject, it must move more freely than just work in one of the most common and basic structures in all of film.

~rougerum

[godardian]

I think it's wrong to say that Lynch is putting anything "personal" into his films, or that what he puts there doesn't mean anything to "us"

He (Lynch) told me, for example, that the scene of Rossellini naked in the night was inspired by his childhood: "When I was little, my brother and I were outdoors late one night, and we saw a naked woman come walking down the street toward us in a dazed state, crying. I have never forgotten that moment." What about the scenes in which a woman finds she loves sadomasochistic abuse more than her own family?

I should also go on to say that somewhere (I forget where) Lynch was quoted as saying he had this fantasy as a boy about cracking a murder mystery while hiding in a closet.  Hence, the all-too-neat plot tie-up where he (oh, EXCUSE ME, Jeffrey) guns down Frank after hiding in Dorothy's apartment one last time.

But what does that mean to the audience?  Nothing.  Here is one place where we expect Lynch's creativity to shine, but instead he opts for the conventional only to satisfy his boyhood fantasy.

That doesn't mean anything to me. I think the scene works on its own. The only way it would be detrimental is if you needed to know that it was supposedly based on Lynch to tell what it was. It could be out of anyone's nightmares; it's a scene of tension. To boil it down semiotically: "The innocent protagonist is trapped and in danger of being immersed in an element not his own." And then there's the voyeuristic aspect of looking out from your covert vantage point.

(speak for yourself).

I did.  ;)

No. You said "us," as if you were speaking for some imaginary, incomprehending audience.

I found both Blue Velvet and Mulholland Dr. to be very moving, especially the latter.

How?

Naomi Watts as both Diane Selwyn and Betty Elms (obviously an idealized rendition of Diane) was so beautifully fragile and crushed. To me, it was a very sad movie about dreams and the disappointment of reality, which ties in so wonderfully, perfectly with the very core of cinema.

I think Lynch uses archetypes- both cinematic and cultural (which boils down to Jungian, I guess, though I hate to use that word) to get at emotions, and to explore themes of innocence and corruption.

Ah, but using archetypes is easy; anyone can do it.  

I thoroughly disagree. It takes a great deal of skill to arrange archetypes in a way that promotes tension, interest, and empathy. That is, in fact, my definition of storytelling itself, in any medium; that's exactly what each and every storyteller does. Not "anyone" has that skill. I think Lynch has it an in extraordinarly unique and effective way.

I think a lot of these complaints have to do with frustration at not being able to approach Lynch's films in a terribly literal way and come up with anything satisfactory. You really need to be able to associate in symbolic ways, to "read" the hermetic semiotic structure of them.

hermetic: impervious or sealed off against outside influences
semiotic: of or relating to semantics

Do you just like using big words to make yourself sound smart?  And I'm not saying this to be rude, or facetious, or anything.  That just seemed really unnecessarily condescending.

That's special-rich coming from Onomatopoeia[/i][/u].

For Lynch to expect us to allow his work to exist in a vacuum is unrealistic and disrespectful to his audience.

Translation: "For Lynch to expect any effort from the audience, or any use of their imaginations, is just too much to ask. The movie should do the thinking for us."

I personally don't think Lynch goes for provocation, in either form or content.

How can you watch Mulholland Drive and say Lynch didn't try to provoke you?  All it was was one provocation after another.

Just because you felt provoked doesn't mean that was the filmmaker's intention.

All Lynch succeeded in doing was pissing me off and freaking me out.  Hence, provoking me to hate his film for pulling the rug out from under it.

I thought it came together beautifully, myself. Not in any literal-minded way, of course, but in its themes, which are emotional and subconscious. I was very, very satifsied. I love the ending. I can't believe anyone thinks he was being mean and trying to destroy narrative. He was subverting/exploiting narrative to give a greater, more resonant kind of pleasure.

You and Ebert- who can try to ride Pauline Kael's coattails all he wants but will never be 1/10 the writer she was, much as I disagree with many of her opinions- can try to cover for your doggedly literal minds all you want. I still say Lynch is a genius and it's just lack of imagination that causes people not to "get" it. [/b]

[ono]

That doesn't mean anything to me. I think the scene works on its own. The only way it would be detrimental is if you needed to know that it was supposedly based on Lynch to tell what it was. It could be out of anyone's nightmares; it's a scene of tension. To boil it down semiotically: "The innocent protagonist is trapped and in danger of being immersed in an element not his own." And then there's the voyeuristic aspect of looking out from your covert vantage point.

Translation: Lynch is living vicariously through Kyle MacLachlan's character because of something he thought up as a little boy, and instead of being imaginative like we know he's capable of being, he chooses to save it for moments where imagination is of no great benefit.

(speak for yourself).

I did.  ;)

No. You said "us," as if you were speaking for some imaginary, incomprehending audience.

No, I said "us," meaning the open-minded audience who refuses to succumb to Lynch's trickery.  You added yourself to that group.

Naomi Watts as both Diane Selwyn and Betty Elms (obviously an idealized rendition of Diane) was so beautifully fragile and crushed. To me, it was a very sad movie about dreams and the disappointment of reality, which ties in so wonderfully, perfectly with the very core of cinema.

Can't argue with you there...

I think Lynch uses archetypes- both cinematic and cultural (which boils down to Jungian, I guess, though I hate to use that word) to get at emotions, and to explore themes of innocence and corruption.

Ah, but using archetypes is easy; anyone can do it.  

I thoroughly disagree. It takes a great deal of skill to arrange archetypes in a way that promotes tension, interest, and empathy. That is, in fact, my definition of storytelling itself, in any medium; that's exactly what each and every storyteller does. Not "anyone" has that skill. I think Lynch has it an in extraordinarly unique and effective way.

Storytelling is not just arranging and defining archetypes.  It's introducing concepts that haven't even been though of before, and molding them into elements that gel into a coherent narrative.  Lynch either can't or simply refuses to do this, as if he's the "cool kid" for rebelling.

hermetic: impervious or sealed off against outside influences
semiotic: of or relating to semantics

Do you just like using big words to make yourself sound smart?  And I'm not saying this to be rude, or facetious, or anything.  That just seemed really unnecessarily condescending.

That's special-rich coming from Onomatopoeia[/i][/u].

Umm... OK, you can't think of anything to actually address what I said, so you insult my screenname?  Real mature.  For one, "onomatopoeia" is hardly a complex word.  It may be long, but elementary school children learn what it is really fast, once they're able to comprehend it.  I chose it because I love the word, it's fun, fun-sounding and conjures images of ping-pong's whizzing by (for one), or maybe those campy old 60s Batman episodes where the fights happen and the punches are superimposed with POW! or WHAM! or THUD!  Don't get me started on your screenname.  People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones.  ;)

For Lynch to expect us to allow his work to exist in a vacuum is unrealistic and disrespectful to his audience.

Translation: "For Lynch to expect any effort from the audience, or any use of their imaginations, is just too much to ask. The movie should do the thinking for us."

This is exactly what all Lynch supporters fall back on when confronted about Lynch's laziness.  I love using my imagination and thinking about films, trying to dissect them to find hidden "stuff" (for lack of a better word).  But you miss one thing: in Mulholland Drive, there's nothing to think about.  At least in a film such as Fight Club or Magnolia there are a lot of things to think about, subtle moments that make the films stand out, and puzzle that can be put together.  But with Mulholland Drive, you can't do that because there is no solution.

It's like pop art; like a Jackson Pollock from his later years, where he just spattered shit on a canvas and called it art, but anyone could have done it, and therefore it's not art.  Art takes skill.  Jackson Pollock had skill, which was evident in his early works.  Lynch has skill, and most intelligent people can see that.  But instead of using it, he eschews that skill for silly tricks that again, alienate the audience and allows other film snobs to condescend to the ones who refuse to bow to the trick.

Just because you felt provoked doesn't mean that was the filmmaker's intention.

And it doesn't mean it wasn't.  Next...

All Lynch succeeded in doing was pissing me off and freaking me out.  Hence, provoking me to hate his film for pulling the rug out from under it.

I thought it came together beautifully, myself. Not in any literal-minded way, of course, but in its themes, which are emotional and subconscious. I was very, very satifsied. I love the ending. I can't believe anyone thinks he was being mean and trying to destroy narrative. He was subverting/exploiting narrative to give a greater, more resonant kind of pleasure.

Call it what you want, but I call a spade a spade, myself.  You can attach any label you want to it because Lynch left it open-ended in a bad, sloppy way which allows you to do so, not in a way that involves a few intelligent interpretations, but one that involves way too numerous messy ones for any of them to fit perfectly.  Note how anyone and everyone who talks about the film has an interpretation of their own.  They all make sense in their own way, but they always leave out or don't account for some element (usually the role the key and blue box play in the movie).  It is because it's a broken puzzle, a jigsaw puzzle where some of the pieces are missing, broken, or deformed.  I myself will try to revisit Mulholland Drive on my own and see what I can make of it.  But I know I won't be too successful, not because of my mind -- it's as good as the majority of other film-minded people -- but because of the structure of the film itself.

Ebert did a shot-by-shot study of the film with a bunch of film geeks and wrote about it in his 2003 Move Yearbook.  It, along with his interview with David Lynch were both riveting and illuminating.  Lynch even talked about the film, had a chance to clarify some things, but didn't.  And the ten clues given on the DVD don't help worth shit.  Read: they tried to pound Mulholland Drive into submission, but finally found a film that they couldn't do that to.  Why?  The incoherent images.  You take any set of images, you can tie them to a story in some way.  But that's because the threads are already there.  With Mulholland Drive, no threads are there, because Lynch didn't even bother to put them there.  He compares films to music, or to a duck, and while I respect greatly those analogies, because, yes, I can see how it'd work, Mulholland Drive is ONE FUCKED UP DUCK.

You and Ebert- who can try to ride Pauline Kael's coattails all he wants but will never be 1/10 the writer she was, much as I disagree with many of her opinions- can try to cover for your doggedly literal minds all you want. I still say Lynch is a genius and it's just lack of imagination that causes people not to "get" it.

Oh, COME ON!  That's one of the most immature things I've ever read.  You insulted (with faulty logic, mind you) me, Ebert, and Kael all in one blow. Congrats.

I've been reading a lot of Kael lately.  The woman was brilliant, but her ego was massive, and she was in need of a good editor.  Her prose, while conversational in nature, was bloated.  She wrote with a "love of movies" and had "great insights," but it's very hard stuff to read.  I'm reading "For Keeps" right now, actually.  It's great, great stuff.  I flipped right to her "revolutionary" Last Tango in Paris review right when I got the book, and wasn't let down.  But Kael does have her faults.  I still love the woman.  But for you to try to insult me and Ebert by saying we're trying to be like Kael is just rude, immature, childish, and not even the issue.

My mind, thank you sir, isn't "doggedly literal" at all.  Don't jump to conclusions about people based on a few posts you've read.  Lynch is not a litmus test for those who are to be lumped into either the literal or figurative bunch.  Life isn't that simple.  Films especially aren't.

Ebert doesn't pretend to be something he isn't.  He's a very intelligent man who can connect with all sorts of people.  His reviews, even for the most understated of movies, are always a joy to read, because the writing itself is brilliant.  He has such a unique way of putting things, because he can latch on to subconscious elements of the human experience and put those images into words.  Kael never rarely (if ever) does this.  Ebert is the best of both worlds; everything Kael wasn't, and more.  I admire Kael greatly, but it is very rude of you to jump to conclusions, thinking I'm trying to be Kael, or Ebert is, or anyone is for that matter, just because they criticize some movie.

Ebert loves some movies that are way out there.  I do too, for that matter.  But just because Kael was the first to do so doesn't mean she was the best, or we're trying to copy her.  We all have our own voices.

Finally, I noticed you basically ignored the strongest points of my argument.  Are you going to debate, or are you going to continue to insult the people who disagree with you?  It'd be much appreciated if you continue this discussion, you'd do so without insulting the people involved just because they disagree with you.  Thanks.  

[picolas]

the biggest post ever

[godardian]

I think:

-Jackson Pollock is brilliant, and not just anyone could do what he did.

-Pauline Kael is not difficult to read at all; I absolutely devour her books. She, along with Susan Sontag, Andrew Sarris, and the Cahiers du Cinema crowd, put our present high-profile "critics" (cheap reviewers, really) to utter shame; they wrote prose about film, really felt it, and had the frame of reference and insouciance to make it all soar. Unfortunately, I feel much like I'm arguing with a Bosley Crowther, here.

-Feeling insulted could only be the result of defensiveness; my tone is no different from that of the person arguing with me. I was not the first one to be petty about "big words," so... glass houses be damned, maybe that's a stone that shouldn't have been thrown by someone other than myself in the first place.

-This conversation could go around and around in the same circle for ever and ever, but both sides are out there now. I think my argument trumps, but that's obviously subjective. As subjective as what the "strong points" of one's own argument are...

[AlguienEstolamiPantalones]

my god these posts are war and peace esc in their length and yet no one could find the time to bring up the fact that lynch has one snazzy hairdo

where are your fucking prioritys, I am so like disgusted by the generation that came before me

you gen x bastards with your conjunction junctions :: grabs his crotch:: I got your function right Here

:: goes on like this for another 2 hours and 36 minutes about how disgusted he is with the world::

[AlguienEstolamiPantalones]

:: two hours and 36 minutes later::

and like fucking marla gibbs, is grossly under apreciated and continues to be the most under rated actor of her generation,  her off broadway one woman play "the Carlo Emilio Gadda story" is as good as theater gets

and and ........

[Ghostboy]

Phew...not much point in jumping in here, is there? Lynch connects with some people really well, and not so well with others. I can't really say why Mulholland Drive makes me feel like crying in some scenes...it just does.

What I'm really interested in is his writing process. His films are so rich and visual, and I almost never think of him as a writer. And yet his dialogue has a definite writers' edge to it. Are any of his screenplays, aside from the ones he's co-written with Barry Gifford, available in print? I know he said the Eraserhead screenplay was only twenty pages long...I wonder how much of the visual element he puts down on the page.

That Ebert clip on the Blue Velvet DVD is funny. That and his Raising Arizona review are just goofy, but I still love him.

[SHAFTR]

Onomatopoeia wrote:

And the ten clues given on the DVD don't help worth shit.

This is true, I sat down once and watched the movie with a notebook, disecting each clue...it didn't help.  I still contend that I do not like Blue Velvet, b/c it isn't an enjoyable watch especially the latter half.  Mulholland Dr I am able to sit back and let the images and scenes wash over me, and in that I find great comfort.

I love Ebert

PS> I don't understand how to use quotes on this board.