David Lynch. I’m not sure any other name you could read, hear, or speak could invoke a thought, feeling, or sense of admiration like his. The man was a cinematic alchemist. He transformed the ordinary into the extraordinary with his otherworldly penchant for meticulous details. When he passed away on Wednesday, January 15th, 2025 at the age of 78, our lives became worse for it.
From Erasurehead to Inland Empire, his films weren’t mean to be watched but experienced. They were the kind of movies you discuss with friends for days or roll over in your head hours, days, and years after you watched them. They burrowed down into your soul and then reared their head when you tried to sleep. At the heart of Lynch’s oeuvre sat an unparalleled ability to blur the line between the conscious and the subconscious. His films reveled in creating a captivating and disquieting dreamlike atmosphere.
Twin Peaks serves as the prime example of his artistic mastery.
On the surface, Twin Peaks is a classic murder mystery detective story. But beneath the narrative’s earnest slice of Americana noir, you find an underlying exploration of the uncanny. The liminal space where the alien is comforting and the mundane is horrifying.
The aforementioned Erasurehead (Lynch’s first feature film) can’t even be explained to someone who hasn’t seen it. Despite being both a surrealist drama and psychological horror, it possesses this bizarre, absurdist, almost comedic quality to it. While both of these projects have nothing overtly in common, it’s obvious they come from the same brilliant mind. Long before Hollywood utilized shared cinematic universes, David Lynch movies felt like they were cut from the same cloth. Although not for everyone and certainly not the mainstream, anyone who appreciates the abstract and eccentric could find something in most of his projects.
Lynch’s crowning achievement is Mulholland Drive.
It’s a labyrinthine descent into the fractured psyche where dreams and reality intertwine in a hallucinatory tapestry. One of my personal favorite scenes is the back-to-back lip-syncing performances of “Sixteen Reasons” and “I’ve Told Every Little Star.” One actress is tangible and passionate. She’s completely selling the sweet desperation of the classic Connie Stevens tune, easily knocking her audition out of the park. However, the studio has already the second actress, despite giving a weaker performance.
When the nervous actress struggles, the viewer feels a foreboding sense of dread, as if something really bad is about to happen. What or to who isn’t clear, but we know it’s there. For me, it calls back to the iconic opening of the film featuring the terrifying creature living behind a restaurant dumpster. If for some reason you haven’t seen this film, that explanation may be strange, but it’s somehow even wilder seeing it play out on the screen!
Lynch’s fascination with the marriage between sound and imagery extended far beyond the realm of cinema.
Music has always been in the forefront of his art. He breathed new life in classic standards from Roy Orbison in Blue Velvet, while Twin Peaks kickstarted a comeback for jazz legend Jimmy Scott. Collaborators such as Julee Cruise, Trent Reznor, and the late Angelo Badalamenti turned in some of their best work with Lynch. The legendary David Bowie, who had a small role in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, incorporated what he learned from Lynch into one of his most ambitious records, Outside. Contributing to the Lost Highway soundtrack, The Smashing Pumpkins turned their distorted alt-rock lore on its head with the ice-cold, emotionless “Eye.”
People loved working with David Lynch because he lived and breathed art. The Cure‘s “Lullaby” video was influenced by Erasurehead, as was Tool’s video for “Sober” video. Superdrag‘s “Garmonbozia” and the outro to “Bright Pavillions” were directly inspired by Twin Peaks and Angelo Badalamenti, respectively. Lana Del Rey herself owes much of her mysterious charisma to the Lynchian world of reverb and cigarette smoke.
Anything cool seems like it was inspired by David Lynch.
His enduring appeal lies in his ability to create a unique cinematic language and voice. By blurring the boundaries between the familiar and the strange, the conscious and subconscious, he invited his audience to explore the shadowy corners of their own minds. Much like a cosmic narrator or a non-diegetic voice, Lynch had the power to disturb just as much as enchant. He challenged the viewer with enigmatic hallucinations while comforting them with well-spoken politeness.
David Lynch also taught us that horror doesn’t have to be scary. The day-to-day dirge of everyday life doesn’t have to be boring. And above all else, what some may consider weird is actually very beautiful. He celebrated the strange because, underneath the glamour, garbage, fantastic, pain, and suffering, that’s what life really is.
For David Lynch, everything was about the art.
When anyone lives their life that much in tune with art, it ceases to be a profession, hobby, career, or calling. It becomes the very essence of what humanity can enjoy and become. While he would definitely argue that he didn’t change the world itself, I do believe that he wanted to change our perception of the world around us.
I never met the man. I just enjoyed the art he produced. I’m thankful that he showed me how to recognize and embrace this beautifully weird world we live in. But I also know that without David Lynch, it’s definitely going to be a lot less of both.