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RIP David Lynch


While browsing on social media today, I came across the news that filmmaker David Lynch has passed away at the age of 78. Lynch (along with Cronenberg, the other David) is my favorite film director. I discovered his work when I was in high school, when I became a fan of his television series Twin Peaks. Soon after, I sought out his other works, including the cult classic Eraserhead, and the suburban nightmare of Blue Velvet. I quickly became a fan of his dark, surrealist style of telling stories on the screen. His unique touch, his unconventional way of telling a story, paired with the fantastic music of composer Angelo Badalamenti, ultimately made me a fan for life. His work has fascinated, disturbed, scared, amused and haunted me like no other film director.









Because of Lynch’s work, I became a fan of musical artists such as Badalamenti, Julee Cruise, Chris Isaak (Wicked Game, which was featured prominently in Wild At Heart, was my gateway to Isaak’s great music), and his unique use of Roy Orbison’s tunes made me revisit his work with a newfound appreciation. When he partnered with Nine Inch Nails’ Trent Reznor to work on the soundtrack to Lost Highway, it was a match made in heaven, with Reznor’s mixing of the film’s score with artists such as David Bowie, Smashing Pumpkins, Rammstein and Marilyn Manson resulting in a fantastic mix that captured the film’s insanity.







Some of my favorite memories of watching his stuff have stayed with me for years. The first time I saw Diane Ladd’s lipstick freak-out scene in Wild At Heart, I laughed hysterically for a good 10 minutes, as it was so over the top and absurd, with Ladd acting the fuck out of that role, completely selling that character and that scene. I recall first watching Mulholland Drive in a small independent movie theatre on a rainy Friday night and walking out of the screening completely shook, having loved every second of that insane, beautiful, creepy and heartbreaking film. I immediately went to the record store (remember those?) the next day and purchased the soundtrack, which I still own and listen to on a regular basis. I recall how excited I was when I found a VHS copy of Eraserhead at my local video store (another long forgotten relic). I watched it and loved it (the dinner scene where blood spurts out of the chicken and the girl in the radiator are some of my favorite sequences). My older brother saw how excited the movie made me, so he took it home that night and watched it with his wife. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he returned the tape to me the next day. It was a mix of “what the fuck did I just watch?!?” combined with a look of concern as he was probably wondering if I had lost my mind for loving something so damn weird. Because of Lynch’s work, I’ll never look at blue velvet curtains, red curtains and zigzag patterned carpets, coffee tables, radiators, the Wizard of Oz, nightclub singers, white picket fences, rabbits, American diners, keys and locks, happy retro tunes, and Los Angeles the same way ever again. RIP to the great David Lynch, one of cinema’s greatest auteurs that ever lived.








 

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