Resolutions and David Lynch

"Like that one sex scene in Mulholland Drive..." (Your favourite artist's favourite artist)

For someone who spends most of her time analysing films as part of her research, I realised that I haven't watched as many as I probably should. This year, I've resolved to picking a new director each month and to watch as much of their work as possible. January was Wes Anderson (current favourite: Rushmore. Likelihood to change: high).

Before the sad passing of David Lynch, he was next on the list.

As an undergrad, Lynch was mentioned in relation to psychoanalysis frequently due to his exploration of the dream state onscreen. He became one of those names I heard so often that it felt like I'd watched his work. I wish I hadn't waited so long to finally get round to watching them.

Mulholland Dr. (2001) has blown my mind and broken my heart.

Warning: spoilers ahead.

At its centre, Mulholland Dr. is a queer love story of jealousy, power structures, and unfulfilled dreams. If you've watched the film, you'll know that the start of the narrative is the dream of failed Hollywood actress, Diane, and that the latter part of the film is the real. This isn't immediately clear to the audience but there are clues. Lynch plays with notions of the uncanny in the dream state where there are elements of the surreal but also where opposites are at play. Whereas, in reality, Diane is an unsuccessful actress whose love, the beautiful and successful Hollywood actress Camilla, is going to marry a big film director (played by Justin Theroux). Distraught, Diane arranges for Camilla to be murdered. In the dream state, Diane becomes a fresh-faced LA newbie, Betty. Upon finding a woman in her aunt's apartment who has amnesia and doesn't know her identity, Betty takes control. She becomes a detective figure to uncover this woman's identity but, in doing so, discovers this is her dream. Confusing, right?

What's so incredibly beautiful about this story is that the amnesiac is really Camilla but who, upon seeing an image of Rita Hayworth's Gilda in Betty's aunt's apartment, goes by the name of Rita. It's a point where reality seeps into the dream, for it's a nod to Camilla taking the role of a femme fatale figure in the real world (Hayworth is the ultimate femme fatale in Gilda). While Betty takes control and cares for Rita, they both fall in love. It's a version where Betty is a successful actress and where Camilla is reborn with a new identity, one that hasn't been tainted by Hollywood. In this reality, they can be together. This is largely because the bigshot director has lost his power. This is an example of opposites at play. Here, he is subject to a bigger, more powerful force that implores him to hire a particular actress or face ruin. The actress's name is Camilla, but this is not Betty/Diane's Camilla, she is a different woman all together. In the dream, therefore, it is Diane as the puppet master who controls the narrative. She is the one who makes the director hire a different Camilla, a different woman, to prevent him from taking her Camilla away from her. Indeed, in the film, Rita and Betty become each other's mirror image. Convinced people are after her, Rita has to rely on Betty completely, and Betty disguises Rita by making her wear a blonde wig - the same style as her own hair. In the dream, Diane creates a world where Camilla/Rita sheds her identity and merges with Betty. Betty has complete control.

Diane's fractured self catches up with her, however, and she kills herself. To use the words of St Vincent, you 'can't live in the dream', the dream must live in you.