Totally sexy and surreal, Lynch's take on american stardom willness is a poetic trip on dreamland. Catchy from scene one, it emulates Hollywood noir as storytelling. Building suspense as a film master, Lynch delivers cinema treasure chest in here.
That's a radical statement. I'm not a fan of "Mulholland Dr.", but would never dare to compare it to any of Tarantino's films. Obviously there are references to Bergman's "Persona" as well as Buñuel, but I don't see how he just copied an existing work. Care to elaborate why you don't regard it as a real film?
No hooray for Hollywood here. An assured play on notions and symbols of vice versa: dreams/waking state, idealisation/reality, morality/machinations, etc. The fractured source (the retooling of an abandoned TV pilot) makes it even more remarkable how deftly Lynch has crafted this cunning onion-skinned puzzle. It's somewhat indulgent, but then what film isn't? At least this has an honesty in its lack of verisimilitude
I was one of many who thought, when it came out, that Mulholland Drive might be Lynch's most direct engagement w/ traditional surrealism because it appeared to be his most direct immersion in the world of dream. I see it very differently now. The movie strikes me now as being engaged w/ the insidious business of reality in all its elasticity and machinic complexity. Reality as conspiratorial domain. Transitional.