Bohemian Cinema By Jonathan Pacheco

“Inland Empire” (2006)

Directed by David Lynch

Satisfaction:Thrilled Tags: Digital, David Lynch, Abstract

When I walked out of the screening of Inland Empire, I thought to myself, “I never want to see that movie again for the rest of my life.” That doesn’t mean that it’s a bad film or a good film. All I meant by that is, because of the nature of the film, I was stressed out for three straight hours.

Inland Empire may be the most disturbing movie I’ve ever experienced. Why? The film uses a lot of images and ideas I find chilling; I’ve never really known why I find them as creepy as I do, but I know that I always have. Then my father, of all people, cleared it up: every image from the film that I described to him sounds like a nightmare I used to have (and that he used to have as well). Somehow, Lynch tapped into our subconscious and conjured up some of our most feared images. Or am I the only one frightened by them? I’ve always found humans in large animal costumes disquieting, especially when they’re silent and expressionless. Distorted, almost clown-like smiles freak me out. Flashlight-lit scenes with extreme close-ups of psychotic faces have never been my favorite. So every time that Lynch would put an image or sound that made me jump and look away, I grew frustrated and thought, “Why is he doing this to me?”

What takes all of these images to the next (perturbing) level is the use of video. Non-HD digital video has a raw, homemade quality that is hard to find anywhere else, and we’re all familiar with it. I remember when I saw Ellie Parker, it felt wrong (Naomi Watts on DV? That’s my world, and here we have a movie star in it). DV is so familiar that it has always represented a more truthful reality (look at the Dogme 95 films). So to have my most frightening nightmares shown on screen in a format that brings a sense of reality to the situation is much more effective than if it were put on the removed fantasy world of film.

Lynch plays with this concept, too. There’s a tense shot of a woman with her back to us. The DV and the angle gives it a little bit of a voyeuristic feel, so it’s almost as if this is “actual candid footage.” The shot holds, when all of a sudden a different character sticks her head into frame, looks directly at us, and says, “Who is this woman?” The effect is jarring. Convincing you that your reality was one thing and then smashing it with another element is what Lynch does throughout the entire film.

The utter unpredictability of the film gives it a fierce edge. Even in “unpredictable” mainstream narratives, you know you’re safe during certain conversations or until the music swells. Not in Inland Empire. Sometimes the music swells and nothing happens; sometimes something does. Even in typical conversations, I was on edge because at any moment, instead of cutting back to the other party of the conversation, Lynch could cut to another unsettling image or sound effect. It was impossible for me to predict where the film would go next, and I don’t know how many times I’ve experienced that before. The film unveiled the very formulaic nature of every other film I see. It’s not always a bad thing to be a straight narrative, but when you see a more abstract film like this one, it’s like realizing that there’s a whole other continent across the ocean that you’ve never explored. Straight narrative is still my cup of tea, but it’s nice to have variety.

I see it like painting (though I’m no aficionado, believe me). Inland Empire is not as abstract as, say, one of Jackson Pollock’s more famous pieces, but it’s more like a Picasso; it’s abstract and surreal, leaving room for interpretation, but there’s enough reality to piece together and see what the artist was trying to do. You can make so many things of Inland Empire, but there was definitely an unconventional narrative that Lynch was trying to portray. And while I don’t always enjoy looking at modern abstract art, I like it enough to hope that people keep on making it.

I won’t try to explain the film to you, or even clue you into what I think the film “means” or what it means to me; I haven’t totally figured it out yet. It’s so layered and dense that it’ll be quite some time before I can organize my thoughts on what it could all be. But that’s the whole idea of this film. Lynch calls it a “cinematic experience,” because he wants it to hit different people in different ways. The fun is in discussing your adventure.

Because of its abstract nature and its gritty digital look, the film is less “accessible” to audiences than the sleek (though still twisted) Mulholland Drive, and that’s a shame. It’s not for everybody, but for those it is for, Inland Empire has a lot to offer, including Laura Dern’s performance (one of my favorite performances in years), and several brilliant sequences (from the title card to a mind-blowing scene in a theater). For less than a week, I’ve been percolating my thoughts on the film and reading theories, and I went from being horrified by the film, wanting to get it out of my mind, to wishing I could see it again at this very moment. If you can handle it, experience this film; it’s something else.