Summary:
An actress is cast to play the lead in a reputedly cursed script, and as she sets out to make the film, she finds it difficult to separate the film from reality, and reality from her dreams.
My Thoughts:
I want to say right now that I think “Inland Empire”, for better or worse, is David Lynch at his most unrestrained. I unabashedly loved certain parts of this film, but there were other times when I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, that is, until after the credits rolled, and I took my dog for a walk and pondered what I’d just seen for the better part of an hour. By the time I returned from my walk, I felt as if many things that I did not at first grasp had started to make sense. That’s the kind of work this film takes; it’s not easy to watch, and even when you do get through the credits, the meaning takes a bit of unspooling.
Lynch’s films have always been dense (I can’t tell you how long I’ve spent thinking about “Eraserhead”), but this film is Lynch at his densest. That being said, I also think that huge fans of Lynch’s more experimental work will find this film to be one of the meatier offerings Lynch has given us. There’s a lot to unpack here, as it is a three-hour film, and I honestly think anyone that watches this would have a much easier time going through the film for a second time, when they’ve had the chance to properly place and consider the implications of each storyline. As a whole the film is incredibly well done, and I hate to think this is the last film we’ve received from the famed director (he recently made “Twin Peaks: The Return”, but that doesn’t count as a film).
Please come back, Lynch. We love you.
There are so many scenes that are up for interpretation that half the time, you didn’t know if what was happening was a dream, reality, or part of the film that was being produced. Like many of Lynch’s movies, just knowing the details of a scene doesn’t compare with experiencing it: listening to the uncomfortable sound design; seeing the weird and sometimes chintzy special effects that still, somehow, manage to come off as creepy; or watching the acting with lengthy pauses and unnatural facial expressions. All of Lynch’s films are an experience; and this one in particular is a heck of a wild ride.
“It’s okay. You dying is all.”
Actress Nikki Grace (Laura Dern, “Marriage Story”) is cast as the lead in a film opposite actor Devon Berk (Justin Theroux, “Mulholland Drive”). The director of the film is Kingsley Stewart (Jeremy Irons, “Dead Ringers”). Soon, rumors start to percolate around the set that the script they are filming is actually a remake (though everyone involved thought the script was original), and that the original film never finished shooting as both the leads were murdered. As the shoot begins, unusual things start to happen round the set, and Nikki finds she’s becoming less herself more like the character she is meant to portray.
I haven’t seen it officially labeled as such, but I’ve sort of started to think of “Lost Highway”, “Mulholland Drive”, and “Inland Empire” as Lynch’s ‘Hollywood Trilogy’. These film, like all of Lynch’s film, touch on themes that wade into the metaphysical, but I honestly think these trio of films show Lynch at his most existential, and he’s never been more existential than he is in “Inland Empire.” Much of this film happens in a non-traditional story structure. In fact, the first ten to fifteen minutes of this film are completely nonsensical; with Lynch, that’s not unexpected. When you go into a Lynch film to watch any given scene, it’s not always about what is immediately apparent in that scene; more often than not, the scene is about the aesthetic as a whole.
For example, there are several scenes that feature humanoid rabbits, acting as if they live in a home together. How does watching this image, with this grim sound design, and this bizarre, almost voyeuristic framing make you feel? How do those anthropomorphic rabbits, sitting in their apartment, mimicking humans in a sitcom (complete with a laugh track) saying vague but almost paranoid things like “I have a secret”, “When will you tell him?”, and “Who could’ve known?” make you feel? It makes for a very uneasy viewing experience. Notice also, when the laugh track laughs; most of the time it’s when the rabbits mention something that could have to do with their insecurities: “There have been no calls today,” could also be looked at as “No one cares enough to call me.”
Where I think “Mulholland Drive” and “Lost Highway” dealt with many of the same themes of insecurities about one’s self and one’s place in life , they are also very different in their nuances. I feel like “Mulholland Drive” is more about being unhappy with life as a whole; you may find something that you believe gives you purpose, but even when you accomplish or achieve that goal or thing, you still have a very good chance of feeling completely empty inside. I felt like “Lost Highway”, which was my least favorite of the Hollywood Trilogy, dealt mostly with the inescapability of death. This film is sort of Lynch’s magnum opus, encompassing all the themes from the other previously mentioned films.
In my mind, this film is about the uncomfortable nature of life as a whole. We’re born into a world where we really have no idea what the purpose of life is; we have no sense of what it is we were put here to accomplish; we’re constantly plagued by our regrets of what we’ve done in the past and our worries and doubts about what the future holds; and worst of all, there’s absolutely no hope of ever escaping this world other than through death. We are all of us- from the very first amoeba in the universe to the very last being that will ever process an intelligent thought- stuck in an inescapable room with a single entrance (birth) and exit (death). The process of life does not discriminate; it doesn’t care if you’re young, old, Russian, American, or a Rabbit. We’re all going to die, and there’s absolutely nothing we can do to stop it; the only thing we can do is hold each other tight, watch the light and appreciate its beauty, and then give ourselves over to the void.
Verdict:
While this film is certainly Lynch’s coldest film since “Eraserhead”, I actually think it has some very beautiful moments of tender warmth. This is also a very long and dense Lynch movie; if you’re watching it for the first time, I recommend watching this alone (if you can), putting your phone in another room, turning off the lights, and truly investing yourself in this movie, and when you get done, don’t immediately rush to judgment; let the movie breathe and ruminate. This is one of Lynch’s weirdest films, but I’d also say it’s one of his best.
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