Why David Lynch lets viewers interpret his films in their own ways: “They don’t need me to help them out”
Should a movie leave you feeling satisfied? Or should a film – a piece of art – leave you in a state of questioning? A good one doesn’t give you all of the answers; the themes it hopes to convey and the meaning of certain scenes are designed to leave you thinking long after you watch it, forcing you to internalise its very essence and absorb its characters and imagery into your mind, where you can make of it what you will.
This is certainly the case with the work of David Lynch, a filmmaker who continually crafted surreal worlds that have equally baffled and enthralled fans for decades. With his juxtaposition of sheer beauty with the ugliest parts of human nature, paired with his deconstruction of fantasy and his dissection of the American dream, Lynch’s work occupies a specific place in cinema that feels perpetually relevant and wide-reaching.
His movies have attracted casual movie-goers, dedicated cinephiles, and lovers of the particularly bizarre and experimental – his genius could be found in his ability to mix accessible formats, like neo-noir thrillers or soap operas, with avant-garde sensibilities. Thus, Lynch’s work is often subject to much conversation and debate, with many viewers still trying to work out the relevancy of a certain character or the meaning of a recurring motif.
This is perhaps most prominent in discussions of Mulholland Drive. Many fans still question what the whole film means, and it’s understandable; several scenes within the movie feel out of place at first, like the Winkie’s Diner jumpscare. Many people have taken to the internet to ask why this random man discusses his nightmare before seeing a horrific-looking person around the back of the building, causing him to pass out. The characters seem to have no relevance to the plot, and the whole sequence feels incredibly unsettling and surreal.
Yet, Lynch allows viewers to interpret this scene however they like, with the most common theory being that this sequence reflects Diane’s guilt, with the homeless person – who is covered in dirt as if they’re decaying – embodying fear and death, tieing in with the events that occur near the end of the film.
While it is often frustrating to watch a film and not know what exactly has just happened, the director believes this is the best way to experience his movies. In the book Lynch on Lynch, he explains, “I think people know what Mulholland Drive is to them, but they don’t trust it. They want to have someone else tell them. I love people analyzing it, but they don’t need me to help them out.”
Lynch added, “That’s the beautiful thing, to figure things out as a detective. Telling them robs them of the joy of thinking it through and feeling it through and coming to a conclusion.”
Mulholland Drive has left audiences perplexed since it was released in 2001. The movie’s shattering of dreams and fantasy is cleverly executed, with Laura Harring and Naomi Watts playing dual roles as parts in both Diane’s (Watts) imagination and the much more brutal real world.
