REEL CRITIC

Rob Orozco

David Lynch has, in my estimation, received a bad reputation for his

films. His films have been characterized as a series of disjointed

scenes, containing an incomplete screenplay, or simply bad. If you really

want to see a really bad film containing a disjointed series of scenes

with an inept screenplay, watch any Michael Bay film, i.e. “Pearl Harbor”

Outside of Jim Jarmusch and John Sayles, David Lynch is probably one

of America’s finest directors to emerge within the last 20 years. Like

Jarmusch and Sayles, Lynch has constantly experimented in his films,

choosing to avoid the cliches that unfortunately dominate today’s

multiplexes.

Lynch’s latest film, “Mulholland Drive,” does not shatter any new

ground, but it does convey the great filmmaker that Lynch is. This film

will, I hope, lead to a greater exposure of Lynch’s works.

“Mulholland Drive” is a surrealist dreamscape -- more on that later --

in the form of a Hollywood film noir, a genre that lends itself to a

Lynch-ian treatment. It tells the story of two women and the various

characters they encounter throughout their adventures.

In a nutshell, there are two characters named Betty and Rita whom the

movie follows through mysterious plot loops. By the end of the film, we

aren’t even sure they’re different characters, and Rita, an amnesiac who

lifted the name from a “Gilda” poster, wonders if she’s really Diane

Selwyn, a name from a waitress’ name tag.

Betty (Naomi Watts) is a perky blond, Sandra Dee crossed with a

Hitchcock heroine a la Grace Kelly, who has arrived in town to stay in

her absent Aunt Ruth’s apartment and audition for roles in movies. Rita

(Laura Elena Harring) is a voluptuous brunet who is about to be murdered

when her limousine is front-ended by drag racers. She crawls out of the

wreckage on Mulholland Drive, stumbles down the hill and is taking a

shower in the aunt’s apartment when Betty arrives.

Rita doesn’t remember anything, even her name. Betty decides to help

her. As they try to piece her life back together, the movie introduces

other characters. A movie director (Justin Theroux) is told to cast an

actress in his movie or be murdered; a dwarf -- a Lynch constant -- in a

wheelchair gives instructions by cell phone; two detectives turn up and

utter dialogue that would make both Bay and Jack Webb proud; a landlady,

the great Ann Miller, wonders who the other girl is in Aunt Ruth’s

apartment.

The two women become junior Nancy Drews, a rotting corpse

materializes, and Betty and Rita develop a relationship that

unfortunately appears to have dominated much of the post-viewing

conversations at my theater.

Having just said that, there really is no way of accurately and

faithfully describing the film; the inability to describe what has

transpired on screen is one of its greatest strengths. The film has a

similar surreal viewing experience as Wim Wender’s “Until the End of the

World,” a film that on one level deals with the recapturing of dreams.

As with Wender’s film, you know you have watched something unique and

possibly profound, but cannot share the experience with others, as each

viewer must decide for himself or herself exactly what he or she has

taken from the film.

The movie may eventually be compared to “Memento,” where if you watch

closely enough you may attempt to solve the mystery; but there is no

mystery. Like “Until the End of the World,” the movie takes place in a

dreamlike world -- you are allowed to examine your dreams, view your

dreams and maybe even act on your dreams.

Of course, the stunning music of frequent Lynch collaborator Angelo

Bandamenti helps the dreamlike experience progress. So, simply surrender

yourself to the cerebral treat that is “Mulholland Drive” and appreciate

a true American filmmaker who has yet to enjoy the wide exposure that he

deserves.

“Mulholland Drive” is rated R for violence, language and some strong

sexuality.

* ROB OROZCO is an attorney with Morris, Polich & Purdy. He lives in

Costa Mesa with his wife and two cats.