Last night Nicole and I caught the Chicago premiere of David Lynch's INLAND EMPIRE at the Music Box Theater. After waiting in queue for an hour, in witch tit cold weather, there couldn't have been anything more welcoming than the theater's red velvet drop curtain(actually, I'm pretty sure it's heavy cotton drapery, but the effect...), a bag of warm corn, free coffee courtesy of the director and, looking evermore the ghost of Jimmy Stewart, the very charming Mr. Lynch. After a improvised pipe organ piece played by one of the Box's projectionists, Mr. Lynch took the stage, read a brief piece about life being akin to a web spun by a spider and how it is defined-and it turn defines-its creator. The next three hours were the most fun I've ever had at a David Lynch film. I was absolutely captivated.
Now, I have to cop to saying I have no idea as to what exactly happened in the film (or to me, for that matter). I've got threads of imagery and cryptic connections that lead to something, a kernel of a notion, but then it splinters off and... hell, it practically explodes, and I'm left blank. Most reviewers use the establishing scene between Nikki (Laura Dern) and her nosy neighbor (a delightfully arch Grace Zabrieskie) in their attempts to follow/establish a narrative. This leads to the making of On High in Blue Tomorrows storyline (or 4/7, the cursed film's original title), which gives you the film w/in a film (possibly w/in a television program being broadcast in a Poland that exists in the present and 1927) and some fine performances from Justin Theroux, Jeremy Irons and Harry Dean Stanton. Now you can follow that adventure only so far. At some point, your theory will meet its untimely end (leaving 1/3 of the film out of the picture) and send you flipping back two or three chapters and on another course. To borrow from one of the ideas in the film, and classic pop surrealist fantasy, it's just one of many rabbit holes you can tumble down.
There are worlds within worlds in this very Lynchian metaverse (imagine all those fine moments from Elephant Man to Mulholland Drive (Twin Peaks being, perhaps, the most relevant touchstone) where dream invades film fantasy--strip the framing narratives from that, like pork off the bone, and you have IE), and I imagine I'll be going back several times with different eyes open to the many possibilities.
Here's some handy dandy Lynch for you to enjoy if if'n you can't get yourself to the movie:
And here are some photos other filmgoers snapped last night.
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1 comment:
Dude, I'm there.
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