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INLAND EMPIRE
// As is typical with Lynch's most outlandish, moderately surrealist films (as opposed to severely and unbearably, such as Eraserhead) Laura Dern is his leading lady, perfectly revealing the underlying neurosis and darkest recesses of the seemingly innocent, wholesome all-American woman; INLAND EMPIRE is no exception to the rule. Dern's bewildering yet emotive scream of a performance is brilliant as another martyred blonde who may or may not be countless people/natives/characters; literally, Dern portrays and/or channels numerous women 'in trouble' in worlds within worlds, an exciting aspect explored in some of Lynch's films. Transcendental meditation, one of Lynch's interests, seems to be one of the main components of INLAND EMPIRE, whereby the mystery develops in alternate characters, situations, states and separate borders: Hollywood, LA and Poland. In terms of precedent due to the location and subject matter, Mulholland Drive is dreamy, polished and coherent, whereas INLAND EMPIRE is digitally-filmed, raw and deeply unfathomable. Despite obvious differences, the two films share many connections; Lynch's vision of 'Hollywood Turned Upside Down' and its deranged, depressed blonde wannabe starlets. I suggest to anyone of a nervous disposition never to watch both films on a loop considering how similarly menacing and bizarre they both are; prepare to be haunted for days, weeks or even months, by recurring images of bums, dwarves, gypsies, human rabbits, facial metamorphoses, dying phantoms and blue boxes/keys. Although Mulholland Drive is Lynch's magnum opus, INLAND EMPIRE is definitely to be appreciated as one his greatest masterpieces, simply because it takes the Lynch format and blows it out of the water, creating his darkest, most indecipherable work.
Despite the consecutive brilliance of Eraserhead, The Elephant Man and Blue Velvet, Lynch entered post-modern cinema alternating between his best work with his worst - Dune, which followed Blue Velvet, Wild at Heart, which arrived alongside Twin Peaks, and then the blip that was necessary for his astonishing millennium oeuvre, Lost Highway) but INLAND EMPIRE was an exception to this pattern and proved to be even more nightmarish, delirious and bewildering than all of his post-modern cinematic output put together; it is an unsolvable puzzle of extraordinary visual dynamic, always either portentous or horrifying, there's no lightness or any intentional comic darkness to be had, nothing is so weird its funny, it veers towards horror in its climactic moments and returns to magic realism and fantasy, somewhat angling Alice In Wonderland. INLAND EMPIRE, as with Mulholland Drive, goes beneath the contemporary, ruthless, decaying veneer of beautiful, dreamy Hollywood and exposes it as a dark, sinister nightmare of performance art, conspiracy and tragedy. To truly absorb its abrasive atmosphere and dizzying camera work, watch it at least three times before watching it again for further examination.
On a final note, let's hope Lynch hasn't retired, but if so, he has delivered an impenetrable work of genius, the perfect swansong, collecting fragments of each of his greatest films and examining completely alternate techniques to present the kind of disturbing imagery and grandiose, metaphysical ideas only Luis Bunuel would dare attempt to release into the mainstream.
