David Lynch, R.I.P.

The fact that David Lynch isn’t in the conversation for Greatest Director Of All Time is a big part of why he was my favorite. It only occurred to me shortly after I read the news of his passing, which was about two hours after I heard that Bob Uecker had died. I know I wasn’t the only person in Milwaukee who felt personally attacked yesterday. The loss of Uecker cuts too deep to process just now; his voice is one of the first I have memories of. There are no words. But I thought I could probably squeeze out a few about Lynch. He wasn’t so much influential on film as he was infectious of people’s ways of thinking after seeing his work. They may not go down as CITIZEN KANEs and whatnot but Lynch’s films and television have had a more profound impact on the person I’ve turned out to be than any other director’s, it’s not even close. Prior to becoming a Lynch fan, I’d seen a few horror films but it wasn’t my bag. I’d seen wacky psychedelic movies aplenty. And I’d seen belligerent, obnoxious movies designed to shock or piss off parents or whatever. And it was always pretty easy to put my finger on what I liked or didn’t like about them.

Upon first seeing ERASERHEAD, though, I didn’t know how I felt. It had been a real ordeal tracking down a 1982 VHS of it in the mid-‘90s (thanks Bill!), and when we’d finally sat down and watched it, I didn’t get it. Whatever was being conveyed by this imagery was beyond my capacity. BLUE VELVET and WILD AT HEART were child’s play compared to this. I wasn’t sure if I even liked it; I had all these scenarios swirling around in my head, my brain desperately trying to make them make sense. I may have had a gut reaction that it was deliberate nonsense, actually. Once conditioned, the brain has a tough time letting go of patterns; CORRECT NOTES MUST BE HIT, MELODIES MUST RESOLVE.

The most recent time I watched ERASERHEAD, I could hardly believe how sensible and linear it seemed. The way it mirrored some of my own fears made me wonder if the movie subconsciously put those fears into me back when I couldn’t discern them. Oh well!

Of course there are certain points I might never be clear on. In fact, that may have been Lynch’s greatest gift to me: to be okay with not understanding, to move on without need of closure. To accept at the final moment that maybe an answer was never intended. Not that he invented the idea; just that he was so consistently able to keep me riveted for as long as he felt like, and any manner of payoff or lack thereof at the end didn’t have to detract from the experience I’d just had.

It wasn’t until LOST HIGHWAY that I became fully aware of this. Watched that one on VHS too, after a long night of delivering pizzas. I was essentially homeless at the time; I’d been kicked out of the apartment I was sub-letting for lighting off fireworks on the roof of the building, and some friends were letting me crash on their couch until I ‘figured shit out’ (thanks Dave and Andy and Tim and Steve!). Over the next several months there was a lot of drinking and not much figuring going on, but I watched a lot of movies while everyone else in the house was sleeping. The sun was just coming up as the credits were rolling, David Bowie’s “I’m Deranged” pulsing into my skull. I was laughing maniacally, having made absolutely no sense of what I’d just witnessed. I rewound the tape immediately and rewatched it. I was utterly desperate to have that feeling again that I had at the end. Even though my life was clearly in the toilet, there were still glorious, transcendent experiences to be had. David Lynch had lifted me clear out of my situation into a state of mind I’d never been in. The mere prospect of recapturing that feeling made life seem worth continuing. That was way more than a movie had ever done for me before.

Despite his reputation, Lynch wasn’t out to shock people, he wasn’t trying to be obnoxious. So it fascinated me over the years the way people hated his work. Sure, there were those who felt uncomfortable or squeamish and didn’t like his stuff for those reasons. But there were also the writers and film aficionados who would rip into Lynch’s work (and sometimes into fans of his work) as if he’d shat all over their personal definitions of art. It was really this phenomenon that made me realize the value in people being pissed off about something you’ve created, or hating something you find self-evidently great. Everyone needs something different out of art; if it doesn’t give you what you need, no matter how GREAT it is, you won’t be moved.

Of course now I’m REALLY going to have to rewatch INLAND EMPIRE, because that’s still the only Lynch work that didn’t give me what I needed. I suspect I’ll get more out of it now; it may have been a victim of expectations at the time. MULHOLLAND DRIVE after all remains the closest thing to consensus-greatness that critics ever bestowed upon Lynch, or does TWIN PEAKS count? Because I sure remember people hating TWIN PEAKS, easily the greatest television program of all time.

I couldn’t tell you when it was that most of this stuff dawned on me but I can tell you that by the time the third season of TWIN PEAKS arrived, I was very ready for it. What a miracle that that project came together holy cow. All of my desires for the Kyle McLaughlin character melted away after Part 8; in a sense I felt like maybe I’d finally…caught up to David. He always knew that the conclusions playing out in our heads would outshine anything he could try to dream up for us; his job was merely to provide the intrigue to set us off. He knew that for most people, that would not be good enough. Not what they need. But they get their needs met all the time, and what’s more, needs change. At any point, you might find yourself not knowing how you feel, and liking it.