Review: 'David Lynch' Revised & Updated Edition

Break the code, solve the crime. One thing that draws a lot of viewers to the films of David Lynch is Lynch's refusal to express his intentions on the surface. In an age when every film's message must be explicitly stated for an audience with the attention span of a puppy, David Lynch's dogged refusal to ever play that dull game is especially thrilling. 

It also means that theories about what, say, that blue box in Mulholland Dr. means are more plentiful than donuts in Agent Cooper's mouth. Whether they be glib brain farts or endless exegeses, explanations of what Lynch really meant are everywhere. To the late filmmaker's credit, he rarely validated any, but also rarely outright said any were wrong either.

Review: 'A Place Both Wonderful and Strange: The Extraordinary Until History of Twin Peaks'

A Place Both Wonderful and Strange: The Extraordinary Until History of Twin Peaks had already been on my radar for a bit when my wife told me she'd listened to Glen Weldon's podcast, and self-described Peaks superfan Weldon said he was surprised by how much he'd learned from Scott Meslow's book. 

Review: 'David Lynch: His Work, His World'

Over the course of a lovely but tiring seventeen years of Psychobabbling I've scaled way back on writing anything but reviews here. So I allowed a big, awful milestone to pass without much more than changing the banner at the top of this page. I'm talking about the death of David Lynch, my favorite artist, one who was so versatile, open, and willing to tap into dreams and nightmares, so old-fashioned hardworking, that he has been nothing short of the biggest creative inspiration in my own life. 

I got my start as a writer when my article on the role of dream worlds in Lynch's work was published in the final issue of the Twin Peaks fanzine Wrapped in Plastic way back in 2005. Although I've since published a couple of books, and even got to work on one of them with one of my top music heroes, Dave Davies, the biggest thrill of my career was seeing my name on the cover of Wrapped in Plastic beneath those of Peaks co-creator Mark Frost, star Catherine Coulson, writer Bob Engels, editor Mary Sweeney, and David Lynch. 

Review: 'Art! Trash! Terror! Adventures in Strange Cinema'

Chris Alexander went from being a kid terrified by the House of Frankenstein spook house in Niagara Falls to a writer for Canada's Rue Morgue magazine to the editor-in-chief of Fangoria to the founder of his own horror mag called Delirium. Throughout his career he's watched a lot of creepy movies and chatted with, and even befriended, a lot of the people who helped make them. 

His new book, Art! Trash! Terror!, is a sort of summation of his career. It's full of critiques of the horror and cult flicks he loves best and excellent interviews with the likes of John Waters, Veronica Cartwright, Stephen Rea, Joe Dante, Caroline Munro, Blacula-director William Crain, Love Witch über-auteur Anna Biller, Werner Herzog, and Nicolas Cage, who unsuccessfully tried to convince Alexander to slit a rooster's throat and eat a giant snail's dick. 

Review: 'Box Office Poison: Hollywood's Story in a Century of Flops'

History is written by the winners, and you can't have winners without plenty of losers. If we're talking about cinema, those losers are the over-budget, the ill-conceived, the box office disasters, the digitally-enhanced-cat-furred. Such films are the focus of Tim Robey in his new book Box Office Poison, which homes in on 26 flops that altered, or at least passed through, cinema history. His one criteria for inclusion was a film that earned significantly less than it cost. The causes of such failure are myriad. A movie might be the victim of over-complication and undercooked rabble-rousing (Intolerance), megalomania and depravity (Queen Kelly), too much boundary pushing for contemporary audiences (Freaks and Sylvia Scarlett), studio butchery and artistic inattention (The Magnificent Ambersons), outsized competition (Sorcerer, trampled by Star Wars), good-'ol artistic differences (David Lynch and Dino De Laurentiis at loggerheads over Dune), pure putridity (Nothing But Trouble, my personal pick for the worst movie ever made), shoddy special effects and shoddier pre-release press (Cats), or meddling maniacal stars and giraffes who stomp on their own dicks (Doctor Dolittle). 

Review: 'The Spice Must Flow: The Story of Dune from Cult Novels to Visionary Sci-Fi Movies'

We are living through very Duney times. The last thing I reviewed here on Psychobabble was Max Evry's oral history A Masterpiece in Disarray. The latest is Ryan Britt's The Spice Must Flow: The Story of Dune from Cult Novels to Visionary Sci-Fi Movies. This is a very different worm from Evry's hulkingly exhaustive 500-page dive into David Lynch's bizarre adaptation of Frank Herbert's sci-fi franchise. Britt delivers only half the page count but sets his blue-within-blue eyes across a more complete vista, reminding us that Lynch's film is only one stop along a hero's journey that began in the early sixties when Frank Herbert, a struggling writer with a debt to the IRS looming over his head, conceived a far off galaxy in which royal houses squabble over control of a sandy drug empire. Dune World was published as a magazine serial in 1963, fleshed out for the more pithily titled novel in 1965, and further expanded for a series of literary sequels. Then came Alejandro Jodorowsky's doomed aborted attempt to adapt it into a film, Lynch's doomed unaborted attempt to adapt it into a film, John Harrison's TV miniseries for the Sci-Fi channel, and Dennis Villeneuve's ongoing big-screen remake series.

Despite wielding a hefty influence on such whiz-bang entertainment as Star Wars, Dune in all its iterations has a reputation for being fairly dense, serious stuff, but Britt goes out of his way to give the property's history a light telling to re-emphasize how once you boil Dune down, it's still a story of heroes and villains and giant worms in outer space. After setting the tone with an extended discussion of Herbert's facial hair, the author blazes along all of the major stops on Dune Avenue, including its influence on its much more eager-to-please kid brother, Star Wars. 

If all you want to learn about is Lynch's film, which despite its rep as a turkey has a pretty sizable cult following and gains extra curiosity simply because it was made by our greatest living filmmaker, A Masterpiece in Disarray is the book to get. But even though Britt only devotes 28 pages to that which Evry devoted 500, we still learn a few new things via Britt's interviews with Kyle MacLachlan and Alicia Witt. And, of course, if you have a more sweeping interest in Dune, Britt earns his keep by discussing matters such as the miniseries and the remake franchise that aren't among Evry's main focal points. And if you're pressed for time, Britt's book is quicker to digest than Evry's, even if it isn't likely to leaving you feeling as satisfied.

Review: 'A Masterpiece in Disarray: David Lynch's Dune, an Oral History'

Having only made one purely avant garde feature that became a smash by playing to freakos at midnight showings and one Oscar-baity period piece, David Lynch was a real weird choice to helm a blockbuster adaptation of Frank Herbert's space opera Dune. But chosen he was, though he couldn't quite be blamed for the critical and commercial disaster it became. Although Lynch's sensibility has never exactly been commercial, he was also at odds with a producer who didn't quit sync up with his vision on this particular project, a truly harrowing production in an inhospitable environment, source material that may be a bit too convoluted and esoteric to translate into matinee fare fit for Star Wars fans, and a truncated run-time that forced the story to get whittled down to a confusing nub. 

Consequently, Dune is the one David Lynch movie many David Lynch fans-- and David Lynch, himself--disown. But its myriad problems are also what make the story of its making so much more fascinating than, say, the making of Blue Velvet, which was an altogether happier and more satisfying experience for everyone involved. 

Writer Max Evry is aware of Dune's flaws, as well as its often ignored charms, which is the correct perspective for anyone qualified to tell its story, which he does in his new book, A Masterpiece in Disarray: David Lynch's Dune, an Oral History. That subtitle is only partially accurate because this book is only intermittently an oral history and doesn't even become one until we're 100 pages into it. Again, Evry is correct. Oral histories fail to get the job done when they rely too much on their interview subjects, who may not cover every necessary part of the story. Evry lets his myriad subjects fill in the gaps but also provides long passages of straight narrative to ensure his making-of account is linear and complete. This is the right way to write an oral history, and A Masterpiece in Disarray is nothing if not complete. The film's unproduced predecessors, casting, scripting, costuming, filming, release, toys, magnificent failures, and legacy are all covered in full detail, whether by Evry's text, his subjects' quotes, or both. 

The author goes above and beyond by even talking with actors who were up for roles but didn't get them, such as Zach Galligan and Kenneth Branagh (both would-be Paul Atriedeses). We get the consequential making-of details as well as the inconsequential trivia that makes oral histories fun reads, such as the original plan to cast Divine as the wicked Baron Harkonnen, the surprising details about ever-affable Kyle Maclachlan's geeky demands during his audition, Lynch's bizarre first meeting with the head of Universal's film division, Patrick Stewart's hilariously clueless first conversation with superstar Sting, and the outrageously scatological reason Charlotte Rampling backed out of the project when Alejandro Jodorowsky was still slated to direct. Perhaps best of all, we get a brief but sweet interview with Lynch, himself, who has long been reluctant to talk about an experience that was pretty painful for him.

A Masterpiece in Disarray is superb because of its content, but it's also a pleasure to read because the book itself was crafted with 1984 Publishing's usual luxurious attention to detail: red gilt edges and ribbon bookmark. It's amazing to think the story of a film so universally panned forty years ago would be treated to such a lush treatment today, but it's Evry's storytelling that really earns such lavish attention. Plus, to be fair, Dune really isn't so bad.

Review: 'Opposable Thumbs: How Siskel & Ebert Changed Movies Forever'

Watching Gene Siskel and Roger Ebert's TV reviews in the eighties and nineties was only partially about finding out which new movies were worth watching, especially if, like myself, you often disagreed with them (those guys had little affection for horror movies or David Lynch). Watching two guys who look like fairly benign uncles get genuinely exasperated with each other was a big part of it too. As anyone who reads Matt Singer's new book Opposable Thumbs: How Siskel & Ebert Changed Movies Forever (or watches that infamous behind-the-scenes video of them shooting a TV promo and calling each other assholes) will learn, Siskel and Ebert really didn't like each other. At least at first. After nearly two decades sharing the camera, a sincere love developed between the critics, and viewed from one of several angles, Opposable Thumbs is a sort of Sam-and-Diane love story. 

Since wringing a whole book out of the relationship between two movie critics, even ones as famous as Siskel and Ebert, is probably no simple feat, Singer had to rely on several angles. Some of these are a bit ho-hum, such as his efforts to get to the bottom of how they ended up on TV in the first place or why Siskel's name came first or how the whole "thumbs up/thumbs down" thing developed. These guys didn't exactly live juicy lives, but it is interesting reading about their early careers, especially when getting more details about Ebert's fleeting yet still-surprising partnerships with The Sex Pistols and fellow breast-enthusiast Russ Meyer. The passages about Siskel's pranks on Ebert and an ill-fated co-star spot for a skunk on their show are amusing enough. The conclusions of both mens' lives are sincerely sad. But the real core of this story is how two rival Chicago film critics came together to insult each other on the air and learned to develop a friendship that transcended the drastic differences in their personalities. That facet of Opposable Thumbs gets a sincere thumbs up from me.

Review: 'Inland Empire' Blu-ray

Whether they were loved (Eraserhead, The Elephant Man, Blue Velvet) or loathed (Dune), David Lynch's films always had a rich, textured quality that made them more like worlds to inhabit than stories to watch on a screen. Even his first foray into network television, Twin Peaks, looked unusually deep and cinematic for an age of flat video images and 25-inch screens. 

Review: 'BFI Film Classics: Eraserhead'

For her entry in the British Film Institute's series of paperback monographs, Claire Henry has selected Eraserhead, a quintessential cult classic perennially ripe for analysis. Henry supplies the analysis but in a much more measured way than overzealous film professors usually bring to David Lynch's Rorschach Test. Aside from opining that the picture is most convincingly an expression of paternal fears (an opinion I personally share), she mostly collates the theories of other scholars to show how ripe the film is for all kinds of theories, and, either intentionally or unintentionally, to show how those theories cancel each other out to a certain degree. Because Eraserhead is better to experience, to live in, than to overthink, and Lynch is nothing if not an intuitive rather than intellectual filmmaker. 

Review: 'The Inner Light: How India Influenced The Beatles'

The influence of Indian culture on The Beatles' lives and music was far reaching. George Harrison's overwhelming love of Indian classical music drove him to study the sitar seriously, which helped to expand an appreciation for that music-- and his teacher, Ravi Shankar-- throughout the world. His interest in Indian philosophy led him and the rest of The Beatles to Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, with whom they studied Transcendental Meditation (TM). The universal love philosophy that has more in common with Indian philosophy than western ideals was integral to The Beatles' psychedelic-era persona. After The Beatles, John Lennon sang about karma and George Harrison's worked to raise awareness of the suffering of India's neighbor Bangladesh. Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr continue to stump for David Lynch's TM promoting foundation today.

Review: 'Lost Highway' Blu-ray

Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me was such a tremendous (and underserved) critical and commercial flop that former golden boy David Lynch had a hard time following it up. Waiting for inspiration, he read a single line in a novel by Wild at Heart-scribe Barry Gifford that finally set off that old lightbulb above his quiff, and he knew he wanted to make a movie called Lost Highway and he wanted Gifford to co-write it. 

Review: 'Dune' Blu-ray

Dune was the one major outlier when I first fell in love with the films of David Lynch. I hated it. Although I could not honestly say I completely understood Eraserhead (even though I totally said that), complete comprehension didn't matter when it came to such a purely experimental piece. That I didn't understand the byzantine plot of Dune mattered more since it had the bones of a completely conventional film. It is a space opera like Star Wars. It has a hero's journey. There are clearly defined good guys and bad guys and laser guns and made-up planets and giant monsters. Perhaps I was also offended that an ARTIST such as Lynch had played on the blockbuster field at all. That Lynch, himself, had completely disowned the film because producer Dino De Laurentiis insisted on a rather ruthless edit justified my serious Dune aversion and made me feel I didn't need to work to love it as much as I loved Eraserhead, Blue Velvet, Fire Walk with Me, and every other non-Dune picture Lynch made.

And yet, I still returned to Dune every few years. And it got a little better each time I watched it, while certain other Lynch movies (The Elephant Man, Lost Highway) drop in my estimation each time I revisit them. After multiple viewings—and still never having read the entirety of the Frank Herbert novel on which the film is based—Dune's plot seems so lucid I feel like a dum-dum for not understanding it upon my first viewing. While it seemed to sorely lack Lynch's experimental verve all those years ago, I now can't understand how I didn't always recognize how far-out Dune is, with its disconcertingly fascistic hero and disgusting, pustule-plagued villain, who at one point, tries to force a captive to milk a cat duct-taped to a rat. I mean, did Lynch ever even devise anything weirder than that?

Review: 'Underexposed! The 50 Greatest Movies Never Made'

Films that stall out before production have always held an allure for cineastes. What might have been if Hammer Films really had made that adaptation of Vampirella starring Barbara Leigh in the seventies? What if The Beatles really did star in an adaptation of The Lord of the Rings for Stanley Kubrick? What if the Stones played the droogs in a Kubrick-less Clockwork Orange or if Robert Rodriguez had remade Barbarella with Rose McGowan or David Lynch and Mark Frost had made a zany Steve Martin/Martin Short comedy called One Saliva Bubble? 

Joshua Hull runs through 50 of these "what ifs" in Underexposed! The 50 Greatest Movies Never Made. The crypto-movies he discusses are always most interesting when there is sufficient details about what they would have entailed. An entry on Neill Blomkamp's Alien 5 is essentially pointless since Hull provides no information about the treatment or script aside from a description of a few pieces of concept art. When details are sparse, the author provides synopses of the attached filmmakers' movies that were actually produced, which doesn't really scratch the itch this book promises to scratch, and his pun-heavy text is an acquired taste. But when Hull relays sufficient details about a Tim Burton-era Batman sequel featuring Nicolas Cage as Scarecrow and Courtney Love as Harley Quinn, a William Dozier-era one in which Adam West's Batman and Yvonne Craig's Batgirl would have faced off against Godzilla, and Steven Soderbergh's proposed 3-D musical about Cleopatra with songs by Guided by Voices, Underexposed! earns its keep. 

The book's what-if poster art is generally very cool too, but it would have been even cooler if all of the artists had made an effort to recapture the poster art style of the given film's era as Dave O'Flanagan (the unproduced John Hughes romp Oil & Vinegar), Nick Taylor (David Cronenberg's pre-Schwarzenegger Total Recall), Rachael Sinclair (Vampirella), and Mary Levy (Batman vs. Godzilla) did.

Review: 'Harry Dean Stanton: Hollywood’s Zen Rebel'

Harry Dean Stanton was a mass of contradictions. He was the quintessential character actor who saw himself as a leading man. He was an unshakable atheist who sometimes identified himself as a Buddhist. He was a loner who often found himself at the center of hard carousing. He was the bitter product of a mother who abandoned him but would not acknowledge a man who claimed to be his son. 

Watch New Edit of David Lynch's "Rabbits"

A few weeks after releasing the haunting short film "Fire (Pozar)", David Lynch's You Tube channel continues to host interesting content. Today, Lynch has unveiled a new edit of his bizarre-even-for-Lynch Internet series "Rabbits". 

"Rabbits" originally appeared on the long-defunct website DavidLynch.com. Each episode consists of Mulholland Dr. stars Naomi Watts, Laura Harring, and Scott Coffey having non-sequitur conversations to the delight of a sitcom laugh track. Plus, they were dressed like giant, feature-less rabbits.

"Rabbits" found a more formal and permanent home scattered among the disturbing debris in Lynch's most recent feature film (assuming you don't subscribe to the theory that Twin Peaks: The Return is an 18-hour film), 2006's INLAND EMPIRE. This latest edit is titled "Rabbits 1", which implies that additional installments will follow. Watch it here:

6/26/20 Update: Part 2 is now up:

Watch David Lynch's "Fire (Prozar)"

David Lynch always said that his main impetus for transitioning from fine artist to filmmaker was the desire to see his paintings and illustrations move. While he has certainly made his share of moving (in all senses of the word) art, an animated short he made in 2015 is Lynch's film that comes closest to fulfilling his original wish. "Fire (Prozar)" essentially looks like one of David Lynch's charcoal illustrations twitching and vibrating to life (with much assistance from animator Noriko Miyakawa). 

With its images of flames, theaters, isolated houses, and elongated deers that look like they just danced off the stage of Industrial Symphony No. 1, "Fire (Prozar)" is very recognizably Lynch. The string score by Marek Zebrowski (who worked as a Polish-to-English translator on INLAND EMPIRE) is highly reminiscent of the late Krzysztof Penderecki, whose work Lynch used to unforgettable effect in INLAND EMPIRE and "Part 8" of Twin Peaks: The Return. In fact, Zebrowski actually wrote it for the Penderecki String Quartet. All of these elements coalesce in what is likely Lynch's best animated work since 1968's "The Alphabet" (sorry, "Dumbland" fans). 

Lynch just released "Fire (Prozar)" on YouTube. See it here:

Psychobabble’s Favorite Year at the Movies: 1968!

A somewhat recent trend in cinema studies finds writers naming their choice for the best year in movies and penning full-length arguments to back up their picks. There have been a couple of books arguing in favor of the year of The Wizard of Oz  (yay!) and Gone with the Wind (gag!). I have not read Charles F. Adams’s 1939: The Making of Six Great Films from Hollywood’s Greatest Year or Thomas S. Hischak’s 1939: Hollywood’s Greatest Year, though I have read and reviewed Brian Rafferty’s Best. Movie. Year.Ever.: How 1999 Blew Up the Big Screen and Stephen Farber and Michael McClellan’s Cinema ’62. I enjoyed both of those books very much even though I do not share the respective writers’ opinions that 1999 or 1962 are cinema’s best years. They did get me thinking about my personal choice, though, and let’s be honest, all of these books are nothing if not expressions of their writers’ personal tastes. I’ve settled on 1968.

Review: 'Conversations with Mark Frost: Twin Peaks, Hill Street Blues, and the Education of a Writer'

David Lynch is responsible for the immediately recognizable visual language of Twin Peaks, but as far as its story goes, Mark Frost had the most control over its direction on an episode-to-episode basis. Yet Frost is serially left out of the conversation because he does not have Lynch’s flair for self-promotion and because he did not have as audacious a resume as Lynch did before the show began.

David Bushman’s new book Conversations with Mark Frost: Twin Peaks, Hill Street Blues, and the Education of a Writer sets the record straight in a few ways. Between February 2018 and October 2019, Bushman conducted a series of 22, one-hour phone interviews with Mark Frost after clearly doing a lot of homework. Bushman asks the right questions to fill in each significant phase of Frost’s family, personal, and creative history. And that history is startling and peppered with odd anecdotes. His grandfather was one of the first doctors to work with Margaret Sanger on Planned Parenthood. His dad Warren (Twin Peaks’ Doc Hayward) once had dinner with FDR. Mark investigated UFOs with a guy from MUFON in the late seventies. He worked alongside Michael Keaton in the lighting department of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood and dubbed either Bennie or Bjorn’s voice (he can’t remember which) in a documentary about ABBA.

Review: 'TV Milestones: Twin Peaks'

Few twentieth century TV series have been as closely examined as Twin Peaks has been. Because it is so mysterious, evocative, experimental, and elliptical, David Lynch and Mark Frost’s series has invited deep, deep, deep analysis since the days before the Internet was ubiquitous. In an Internet-mired age, the analysis has gotten deeper than ever. A fan recently posted a four-and-a-half hour (!) video analysis of all three seasons and the Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me feature film that has received more than 600,000 visits as of this writing.

So what can Julie Grossman and Will Schiebel’s 88-page monograph on Twin Peaks for the TV Milestones series possibly bring to the conversation at this analytical oversaturation point? Well, without necessarily being essential, the book does accomplish a few things. Most obviously and fundamentally, it is the first printed book devoted to the analysis of Twin Peaks published since season three aired in 2017, so for those who can’t be bothered to wade through all of that Internet material, it is the handiest and most encompassing look at the Twin Peaks phenomenon to date.