Mulholland DriveDreams don't play by the rules...at least, not the rules that you and I take for granted. Dreams come in all kinds of varieties...dreams of fame, dreams of love, even dreams of fear; but of course, these are nightmares. But what is it that differentiates the two? Is it as simple as "happiness" versus "sadness", triumph over failure...adoration compared to loneliness? Every story on the silver screen is a dream; we may not have dreamed it ourselves, but someone did. It may not come exclusively from the subconscious--it may have been wrought from a psychological effort to craft another realm, but they are dreams. All dreams share one thing in common--they are not real.
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Mulholland Drive begins with a dream-like montage, a fantasy of dancing which leads to the ephemeral image of a woman which we will learn belongs to Betty (Naomi Watts), our star...our heroine of the picture; "this is the girl". There are additionally a few other scattered images, including--most importantly--the image of a pillow. This is Hollywood, the "dream factory", the land where the fabrication of illusion is the status quo. The brighter the dream, the longer the shadow cast. The image and sound set that tone: Betty's dream--later, Diane's dream--is haunting, buzzing, bright, beaming smiles...blurring lines. If I speak in abstraction, it is because Mulholland Drive is an abstract film, a forceful and fitting entry into the opus of surreal auteur, David Lynch. In keeping with the style of this artist--himself a self-made Hollywood legend--this is a story of Hollywood, about Hollywood, set among the rolling hills of the town which glitters as the night sky above. A star is born, and that star must be Betty...or must it be? Mulholland Drive is a mystery, in plot and presentation. It is layered in conspiracy, it is adorned with subplots and questionable motivations. It is a story which evokes film noir classics, as well as other tropes of the motion picture industry, writ by magi of the silver screen. As Mulholland Drive is a mystery--and all good mysteries derive much of their entertainment from the hidden reveal--I should refrain from casting aside the curtain to reveal the illusions where at all possible. The "dream" of Mulholland Drive is more real than reality...surely the opinion of madness; a mystery--an internal one--where the scenes are the girders to reinforce the illusion. Who among us hasn't dreamed our dream of Hollywood, of perhaps "making it big" in this golden land on the Pacific coast, as a star--or some other important role brimming with prestige; Betty has. As an ingenue from Ontario, she has come to Hollywood to audition for a role at the suggestion of her aunt, who is kind enough to allow her to stay at her place. Betty befriends an elderly couple at the airport, both of whom hold high expectations for the starlet, their imposing smiles a proclamation of their intractable faith in Betty's potential; heaven help the girl should she fail to live up to these expectations. And when Betty arrives at her aunt's apartment, she discovers a beautiful amnesiac naked in the shower, a woman who introduces herself as "Rita" (Laura Harring), and becomes Betty's partner in discovering the mystery of her identity.
Betty's story is not unfamiliar territory for any rags-to-riches fare, but in Mulholland Drive, her rise is a pastiche of cliches, with moments framed not only deliberately to resemble a Hollywood movie, but even the "dream" of a Hollywood movie. Mulholland Drive began as a pilot for a television show, one which eventually morphed into a feature film. The fractured subplots which accompany Betty's story resemble those of a drama series to an extent, but are not cohesive by design; we are baited into making associations between these scenes and Betty's story, because in this world, Betty is our star, and everything revolves around her. These moments are really like a mosaic--viewed too closely, one cannot see the whole of the picture it represents. And like a mosaic, even what you think might be the "big picture" is far removed from the comprehensive whole when you see it from above...a God's eye view, or a director's. Among the more significant of these subplots involves director Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), who is coerced by a mafia-like duo and others into casting a mysterious girl named "Camilla Rhodes" (Melissa George) in a highly sought after role for his upcoming picture. He balks at having his creative control wrested from him, and is made into a sympathetic character who, in other films like what Mulholland Drive presents itself to emulate, would ultimately prove to be the romantic interest for a character like Betty. Adam is a cog in the machine...only, even he cannot understand the greater puppet master at work here. Betty is our star; again, this is the girl. Movies are a fantasy of the silver screen, and fantasies are not that different than dreams. Sleep is a big part of Mulholland Drive, where transitions occur and where the world changes; even Betty comments that upon her arrival in Hollywood, it is like a dream. There is a scene where two men are seated at a restaurant--Winkie's--and they discuss a dream which is terrifying for the dreamer, because of an ugly presence, a man whose secreted away existence implies that the forces which operate in the shadows--the ugly truth--are so horrible because we have become so inured to the dream, that waking is the nightmare. We pretend we're someone else, just as Betty and Rita do, which develops into a kind of closed circuit. There are numerous moments which are revisited, symbols and acknowledgements, subtle--even subconscious--cues which reoccur and imply that what we have seen before is but merely a part of this sophisticated illusion, including nods to classic Hollywood, like the casting of Ann Miller as "Coco", which seems apropos when it is revealed that Diane won a jitterbug contest. Rita derives her name from a poster of the film, Gilda, a film noir classic noted mostly for the provocative entrance by Rita Hayworth in the film, one of sexual evocation. If this is the persona of Rita, then what does that make her in Betty's life, or Diane's? What does it speak to their perspective? How the world of Mulholland Drive is portrayed is about a specific point of view, such as one's perception of arguably the world's most incompetent hitman, whose failings upon first appearances take on greater context in light of the story as a whole. The world is a stage, but there is no band.
Just as Betty's world is dreamlike, Rita's is like a nightmare, one which even she is trying to escape, where even small clues--like a name badge of a waitress at the same Winkie's--is enough leverage for her to try to claw her way out of a purgatory not of her own styling. Mulholland Drive, of course, shares numerous similarities with other films with similar themes. Most obviously, there is Sunset Boulevard; aside from the similarities in naming conventions, both films deal with a young hopeful who is struggling to cope with the city of stars, which chews up and spits out those who cannot thrive in this city on the edge of the desert, as they are pulled under in the quicksand of Hollywood. Mulholland Drive also shares much with Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo--another tale of suspense--when Betty remakes Rita into a woman of her design via a blonde wig--only Betty makes Rita to look not like another woman, but herself. Here Mulholland Drive also resembles Ingmar Bergman's Persona, a film about two women--and transposed identity--who take on characteristics of one another, but do so as they engage in a psychological tug-of-war in pursuit of the dominant personality. Much has been said about the eroticism of Mulholland Drive. Suffice to say, there is a key scene with Diane which alludes to a specific kind of fantasy, one which encapsulates the level of sexuality and amorousness that the movie conjures in peaks, like multiple waves crashing over Betty and Diane, like her audition--a far more convincing performance than her hammy one with Rita--one which announces her talents as being superior, justifying--in her eyes--the injustice at her dismissal in favor of Miss Rhodes. It is also interesting as to how telephones are the great connective tissue of Mulholland Drive, the avenue of communication between mobsters and their enforcers, referenced in little black books, described as the "history of the world in phone numbers", and even when Betty calls Diane along with Rita, commenting on the irony of it; they are focal to the story. Upon its initial release, David Lynch included a series of "clues" about the "true meaning" of Mulholland Drive, a curious addition which seems strange upon repeat viewings of the film, because while Mulholland Drive is a mystery--even from the audience at first--it is one which evolves and mutates into something different, a story which cannot be contained by the rigidity of a first impression, and demands repeat viewings. It only appears oblique and mysterious at first; the illusion dissipates like the ubiquitous smoke, the mirrors, and the lights. And like the "performance" by Rebekah Del Rio in the Club Silencio, the show goes on regardless of the performers.
Recommended for: Fans of a psychologically stimulating thriller about love, dreams, obsession, vanity, and most of all, illusion. How else could one describe Hollywood?
Betty's story is not unfamiliar territory for any rags-to-riches fare, but in Mulholland Drive, her rise is a pastiche of cliches, with moments framed not only deliberately to resemble a Hollywood movie, but even the "dream" of a Hollywood movie. Mulholland Drive began as a pilot for a television show, one which eventually morphed into a feature film. The fractured subplots which accompany Betty's story resemble those of a drama series to an extent, but are not cohesive by design; we are baited into making associations between these scenes and Betty's story, because in this world, Betty is our star, and everything revolves around her. These moments are really like a mosaic--viewed too closely, one cannot see the whole of the picture it represents. And like a mosaic, even what you think might be the "big picture" is far removed from the comprehensive whole when you see it from above...a God's eye view, or a director's. Among the more significant of these subplots involves director Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), who is coerced by a mafia-like duo and others into casting a mysterious girl named "Camilla Rhodes" (Melissa George) in a highly sought after role for his upcoming picture. He balks at having his creative control wrested from him, and is made into a sympathetic character who, in other films like what Mulholland Drive presents itself to emulate, would ultimately prove to be the romantic interest for a character like Betty. Adam is a cog in the machine...only, even he cannot understand the greater puppet master at work here. Betty is our star; again, this is the girl. Movies are a fantasy of the silver screen, and fantasies are not that different than dreams. Sleep is a big part of Mulholland Drive, where transitions occur and where the world changes; even Betty comments that upon her arrival in Hollywood, it is like a dream. There is a scene where two men are seated at a restaurant--Winkie's--and they discuss a dream which is terrifying for the dreamer, because of an ugly presence, a man whose secreted away existence implies that the forces which operate in the shadows--the ugly truth--are so horrible because we have become so inured to the dream, that waking is the nightmare. We pretend we're someone else, just as Betty and Rita do, which develops into a kind of closed circuit. There are numerous moments which are revisited, symbols and acknowledgements, subtle--even subconscious--cues which reoccur and imply that what we have seen before is but merely a part of this sophisticated illusion, including nods to classic Hollywood, like the casting of Ann Miller as "Coco", which seems apropos when it is revealed that Diane won a jitterbug contest. Rita derives her name from a poster of the film, Gilda, a film noir classic noted mostly for the provocative entrance by Rita Hayworth in the film, one of sexual evocation. If this is the persona of Rita, then what does that make her in Betty's life, or Diane's? What does it speak to their perspective? How the world of Mulholland Drive is portrayed is about a specific point of view, such as one's perception of arguably the world's most incompetent hitman, whose failings upon first appearances take on greater context in light of the story as a whole. The world is a stage, but there is no band.
Just as Betty's world is dreamlike, Rita's is like a nightmare, one which even she is trying to escape, where even small clues--like a name badge of a waitress at the same Winkie's--is enough leverage for her to try to claw her way out of a purgatory not of her own styling. Mulholland Drive, of course, shares numerous similarities with other films with similar themes. Most obviously, there is Sunset Boulevard; aside from the similarities in naming conventions, both films deal with a young hopeful who is struggling to cope with the city of stars, which chews up and spits out those who cannot thrive in this city on the edge of the desert, as they are pulled under in the quicksand of Hollywood. Mulholland Drive also shares much with Alfred Hitchcock's Vertigo--another tale of suspense--when Betty remakes Rita into a woman of her design via a blonde wig--only Betty makes Rita to look not like another woman, but herself. Here Mulholland Drive also resembles Ingmar Bergman's Persona, a film about two women--and transposed identity--who take on characteristics of one another, but do so as they engage in a psychological tug-of-war in pursuit of the dominant personality. Much has been said about the eroticism of Mulholland Drive. Suffice to say, there is a key scene with Diane which alludes to a specific kind of fantasy, one which encapsulates the level of sexuality and amorousness that the movie conjures in peaks, like multiple waves crashing over Betty and Diane, like her audition--a far more convincing performance than her hammy one with Rita--one which announces her talents as being superior, justifying--in her eyes--the injustice at her dismissal in favor of Miss Rhodes. It is also interesting as to how telephones are the great connective tissue of Mulholland Drive, the avenue of communication between mobsters and their enforcers, referenced in little black books, described as the "history of the world in phone numbers", and even when Betty calls Diane along with Rita, commenting on the irony of it; they are focal to the story. Upon its initial release, David Lynch included a series of "clues" about the "true meaning" of Mulholland Drive, a curious addition which seems strange upon repeat viewings of the film, because while Mulholland Drive is a mystery--even from the audience at first--it is one which evolves and mutates into something different, a story which cannot be contained by the rigidity of a first impression, and demands repeat viewings. It only appears oblique and mysterious at first; the illusion dissipates like the ubiquitous smoke, the mirrors, and the lights. And like the "performance" by Rebekah Del Rio in the Club Silencio, the show goes on regardless of the performers.
Recommended for: Fans of a psychologically stimulating thriller about love, dreams, obsession, vanity, and most of all, illusion. How else could one describe Hollywood?