It's not often that the team at ScreenAnarchy feels a loss like we have with David Lynch. And we're not alone; since last Thursday, I've seen an outpouring of love, sadness, and remembering that I've not seen the like of since David Bowie died.
At least a few times a day, something about Lynch is passing through my social media feed. Lynch's features and many, many shorts, spread out across nearly 60 years, showcase such a unique mind, that his name has become shorthand for a particular narrative and style of film and story. Perhaps since ScreenAnarchy's main focus is on genre film, that we feeling the passing of this singular artist most keenly.
So much so, that we've put together a reflection on his work. Our writers share their memories of Lynch's work, the effect it had on us, the range of his influence, and how we will carry and share his work in the future. I'm not sure I could even tell you why the last of his narrative features is closest to my heart, but maybe Lynch would want it that way, reluctant as he was to explain his work.
I've always though it was less coherent than Mulholland Drive , in the best way possible. More completely disturbing in its mystery, showing not the glamour of Hollywood, but the inescapable psychological dissonance that happens to actors when they cannot separate themselves from their story.
I watched it at least twice in cinemas, included it in a film course paper, and bought the disc as soon as one was available. I learned how to make quinoa from a short film Lynch had included. Somehow, Inland Empire felt right to this moment in Lynch's life, when he was circling back to his arguably most successful work with Twin Peaks: The Return.
