If this was an art college student who forgot he had a project due tomorrow and crapped this out in 5 hours, he'd get a D. Instead Lynch probably got 5,000 dollars.
I like the ethereal dream ballads well enough, but it's saying something that I liked this best in the moments where I'd forget what high marks David Lynch is capable of and just go with the flow. Video camera car trunk chorus line is the highlight, but that couldn't just be a separate music video and has to be part of this big cumbersome only intermittently compelling thing speaks to my general problem with Lynch features, drowning brilliant flashes of inspiration in a miasma of a thousand half-formed ideas and quirky tics.
Still, I gasped when the body fell from the rafters.
The first hour or so makes up such a perfect anxiety nightmare that it bummed me out when it went a more typical (albeit eventful) route of "her madness is making her KILL!" The Polanski that made me squirm during mundane scenes in Rosemary's Baby purely through the power of his mise-en-scene is multiplied by five here, to the point where it got too much for me and I had to pause the movie to go do chores. Polanski's famous…
The unexpected recipe of eulogy, cute animal videos and surveillance culture dread synthesized into the finest cinematic representation of the act of remembering I have ever experienced.
I don't know nothing about nothing, so it wouldn't surprise me if this is philosophically facile or a misrepresentation of Buddhist beliefs or even Just Plain Dumb, but there is such an emotional immediacy that I never once worried about any of that. I have no spirituality to speak of, no real personal…