23 March - David Lynch & The Lost 3 hours

Words fail me as I want to describe the excruciating pain of sitting through a David Lynch film but I would really like to spare further suffering. Of course the movie has been out for a few weeks so this warning may come a little late but if I can spare only a few people, I’ll have achieved something.

Had not seen E. for a while and so when he suggested the movie and catch up drink beforehand I didn’t have the quick reflex to say ‘I’ll do the drink but not the movie thanks’ . When I met him at the bar, he’d already bought me a ticket so I felt I had to go. What the heck, it had taken several months to watch Mulholland Drive in sections and I had liked it (for the record, I have seen all the Lynch movies, and was stuck on Twin Peaks back in the day, was even a fan).
This started fine, we were laughing at the people with rabbit heads on their heads and thought ‘Ha ha ha, yeah, there would be no Donnie Darko were it not for Lynch’. But only the hope of an eventual pay off of some kind kept me in my seat for 2 hours. From hour 2 to hour 3 I wanted to leave but didn’t want to offend E. He, however was clearly as bored by the proceedings as I was but found it all funny and was looking for the next laugh.
I know that it’s all to do with dreams and subconscious, but in my dreams I walk at normal pace. I don’t slow down thhhhaaaaaaaaattttttt mmmmmmuuuuuccchhhhhh. If Lynch filmed action at regular speed we would have short movies but maybe short movies are not arty enough? I don’t know. I also don’t know anyone whose dreams work like his do and I haven’t got 2 years to work out theories to explain what it all means and the constant self-referencing. Maybe at the time of Twin Peaks I thought I was part of some elite who 'got it' (what exactly) but a few years on and you really don't give a shit. I only liked the wonky camera action (all filmed on handheld or some such probably AND deliberately, please don’t point that out to me)- and some of the music. Bit of Beck, you can’t go wrong. I think Laura Dern is a terrific actress and I admire the way in which she submits to all the ugliness of a Lynch movie, but having to watch her frankly v. ugly face for that long is too painful and gargoylish. Especially when she’s crying, hate the way her mouth shapes up then.
As if to counteract 2 hours of ugly Laura gazing, it was very sneaky how old Lynch dropped into the pointless, senseless non plot, a bunch of gorgeous teens in miniskirts and shorts and fake boobs, thus making everyone (well the dozen people in the cinema) wake up with a ‘hey hey’ jolt. Well I know E. and I did, especially when one said teen's hotpants were framed from below and at tantalising fur level. And of course we kept waiting for the teasing teens to re-appear. Which they did but it wasn’t enough. By this point the surrealism was just boring.
I got up to leave eventually at – 4 minutes from the end. E came out and I asked if there had been any satisfactory tieying of any of the many lose ends (you know, whatever happened to Billy, to his wife, to the Jeremy irons director bloke, to the Harry Dean Stanton assistant bloke, to all the Polish people, why were they there in the first place, etc) but he shrugged his shoulders. Now, if I a writer could be allowed to write disjointed notes as Lynch’s film is allowed to propose, boy would life be easier. One day I look forward to his toppling from whatever list of ‘greats’ some people hold him in. Which reminds me. If this had been a first or sixth movie outing with a new date and he’d expressed ‘I loved the movie’ type sentiments, then there would have been no choice but to move on. Irrespective of the size or motion of his cock. So, if I can just give advice, avoid Lynch with new friends, only the tried and trusted can shoulder the experience with you. Needless to say when I called the boy from the fresh air outside the cinema he told me I was bonkers to have gone along. Aaaahhh, I knew we were one body/one mind.