Mulholland Drive

Mulholland Drive ★★★★★

This was an immutable assault on the psyche, both for me and for the protagonist. The blur between reality and the nightmare can be a jagged one. The mind can be a mess when there’s a departure of all forms of logic in trying to make sense of it all. It ultimately felt like an incision into the subconscious and one that portrays it with all of it’s vigour and potentially self-destructive prowess. Repressed thoughts pertaining to unrequited love laced with a system of self-loathing that prove to be of grave importance in the grand scheme of things. An examination of the mental whilst it traverses and is ultimately beaten by the many hurdles that arise from the attempt to fulfil one’s desires. The culmination of frustration and the inability of self-dependency whilst psychological and sexual trauma exist as concurrent furniture seemingly lacing all of these unsettling and confounding thoughts with a cloudy and ghastly hue which further perpetuates the line of questioning that seems to exasperate the longer I hold this film in my thoughts. Ambiguity is something that typically irks me in film but it’s truly effective in the way that it helps you examine the many questions that arise in the plot. I’m still in awe and I acknowledge that this film is open to interpretation. I also understand that I’ll have to watch this film a dozen more times to further examine these initial thoughts of mine. I might be right or wrong - or I might even be attempting to answer certain questions that aren’t even closed in the first place in a futile attempt to make sense of things, but I digress. What I can truly say as an absolute is that I was totally floored by the type of experience the film put me through. Just an unreal film and one that makes me mad at myself for being so horribly late to the David Lynch show.

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