20 Years of ‘Mulholland Drive’, David Lynch’s Dreamlike Masterpiece

The intersection between dreams and reality has always been a fascinating topic to tackle in movies, and perhaps no film handles this in a greater fashion than David Lynch’s mesmerizing, surrealist masterpiece Mulholland Drive. Released in May 2001 to the Cannes Film Festival (followed by a theatrical US release that October), the film is arguably the most groundbreaking and revolutionary work of the 21st century to this point. In Mulholland, Lynch abandons a conventional approach to storytelling, choosing rather to construct a twisting narrative of vignettes that loops around and unfolds in on itself. Of the film’s two and a half hours, the first two are relatively straightforward, but in the last half hour or so, Lynch blows it all up, forcing us to question everything that had come before. Clues are planted early on that may or may not hold answers to questions arisen later on. Events can be rearranged as one sees fit. But this is not a film that gives easy answers; in fact, there may not be any true answers. Whatever meaning or explanation there is to the film is in the eye of the beholder. As critic Roger Ebert stated in his review: “There is no explanation. There may not even be a mystery”. Whether this statement is true or not is up to debate, but that’s the genius of the film. No film opens itself up to greater discussion and interpretation.

The story (if one can even call it that) begins with a beautiful, dark-haired woman (Laura Elena Harring) riding in the back of a limousine. A man is about to murder her, when suddenly the limo is T-boned by a speeding car. The woman escapes from the wreckage and wanders off into the sprawling depths of Los Angeles. The next day, a perky, joyful woman named Betty (Naomi Watts) arrives in the city. She’s an aspiring actress. Betty has been granted permission by her aunt, also an actress, to stay in her apartment while she’s out of town shooting a movie. Betty gets settled in the apartment, only to find the woman from the opening scene in the shower. The woman reveals herself to be an amnesiac due to the accident, and when asked for her name, she glances at a Rita Hayworth movie poster on the wall and replies, “Rita”. The two women then embark on a mission to help Rita find her identity.

Meanwhile, filmmaker Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), in the process of casting his next movie, is pressured by top studio heads to cast actress Camilla Rhodes (Melissa George), to which Adam objects. If he doesn’t cast this specific actress, he could lose his entire career, and potentially more. These two storylines are told parallel to each other, eventually intersecting in interesting ways. Along the way, the film deals with a mysterious presence behind a diner, a pair of detectives who investigate and then never return for the rest of the film, a bungled contract kill by an incompetent hitman, a dwarf in a wheelchair who seemingly controls Hollywood via phone, a discovery of a corpse, a friendship that blossoms into a romance, and a blue key that holds varying levels of importance. They all seem unrelated, until suddenly they aren’t. And even with all that said, I still haven’t scratched the surface of explaining the film. As stated above, there may not even be a way to explain it. Reality shifts, identities swap places, and by the end of the film, there’s no distinction between which way is up and which way is down.

Another part of Mulholland’s ingenuity is the manner in which Lynch takes well-established tropes and ideas, and then warps them and flips them on their head. Lynch had already done this with his similarly groundbreaking TV series Twin Peaks; in that show, he set the events in a cozy, scenic mountainside small-town, only to eventually reveal an incredibly dark underbelly under the veneer. Likewise, Mulholland is set in a picture-perfect, dreamlike vision of Los Angeles, one untouched by endless traffic and smog. This is done to put us in the point-of-view of Betty, who’s come to Hollywood in pursuit of a dream to make it big, like so many other actresses. Throughout the film, Lynch contrasts this point-of-view with the bias and shadiness of

studio politics, exposing the Hollywood dream as exactly that: a dream, not reflective of reality. There’s a scene where Betty arrives to audition for Adam’s film, for a scene where the actress must lip-sync to classic ‘60s pop hits. While another actress is auditioning, Adam looks over his shoulder and locks eyes with Betty, and it’s clear by the look on his face that he’s found the ideal actress for the part. And yet he must cast Camilla, or else he loses his career and possibly his life. Because of the shady suits in high positions, both Betty and Adam are denied the opportunity to truly make the movie they want to make, an effective example of how Hollywood often works in biased and defeating ways. (Watts has also stated that her own experiences as an actress parallel those depicted in the film, as she struggled to find roles in the ‘90s before finally breaking out with Mulholland).

Lynch also loves taking established genres and archetypes in film, and turning them inside out. Just as how Twin Peaks was an inversion of the soap opera stylings so popular in its era, Mulholland Drive takes the form of a classic film noir and twists it into something new. Noir stories frequently take place in LA and feature complex mysteries, both of which are boxes Mulholland ticks off. But typically, those mysteries reach some kind of resolution, which is the last thing on Mulholland’s mind. The events in Mulholland play out in such a hypnotic manner that it almost lulls the viewer into a false sense of security, a sense that everything is leading to a definitive answer. But it’s not. Each new scene in Mulholland opens up a new door, and it never shuts any of them. By the end, so many doors have been opened that it’s impossible to know where each path leads after only one watch. As such, the film welcomes repeat viewings perhaps more than any film I’ve ever seen (I’ve only seen it once, but I look forward to rewatching it in the very near future). With each viewing, there’s a new angle of the story to focus on, a new interpretation of how the events relate to each other.

By operating so explicitly on dream logic and in a world so untethered to reality, Mulholland Drive avoids any attachment to a period in time, giving it a timeless and ageless feel that helps it hold up as a defining modern cinematic work. Lynch completely understands the rhythm and logic (or lack thereof) of dreams and nightmares; part of what makes dreams so alluring is the lack of explanation in their imagery, as they dig into our subconscious and simply present the images as they are. So much of Mulholland feels taken directly from the subconscious; the imagery is inexplicable but unforgettable, scenes stop and start as they please, certain story threads are introduced but go nowhere. Just as in dreams. There are romantic scenes bursting with tenderness and passion, and there are scenes of paralyzing, nightmarish horror. As the film progresses, dreams intertwine with reality, and reality intertwines with dreams, until it’s impossible to tell the difference between the two. Certain seeds planted early in the film reappear later on in different contexts (pay attention to the name Diane and how it’s used throughout the film). Mulholland Drive may not offer easy answers, but the process of attempting to understand it is what makes it such a rewarding experience. It’s not only about a mystery; it’s a mystery in and of itself. Lynch’s film is a wholly unique and singular entity unlike any other in cinema history, and arguably the greatest achievement in filmmaking of the past 20 years. If you haven’t seen it, watch it. If you have, watch it again and see it in a new light. It’ll be worth it.