Mulholland Drive has frequently been named the best film of the millennium, and the value of this status is elevated by the history of the film’s origin. It was born from a shelved pilot of a TV series that was expanded into a feature film with additional footage, turning it into a two and a half hour long surrealistic canvas of the nocturnal city of dreams. In the cubistic tapestry, the different thematic threads from sex work to violence, doppelgangers, and emerging identities are masterfully woven together. The characters include a hopeful, aspiring blond actress arriving to Hollywood, a dark-haired neo-noir femme fatale who suffers from post-car accident amnesia, a young director fighting for his art in production company meetings, a homeless monster looming in the backyard of the local diner, a diabolically hysterical, granny radiating joy, and a truth-telling mysterious cowboy.
In his own winding way, Lynch updates Billy Wilder’s Sunset Boulevard (1950) for the 21st century, but his special talent lies first and foremost in the sudden and surprising changes of tones, which are supported by the soundtrack created by the recently deceased master composer Angelo Badalamenti, whose fabric of sounds moves from soul-caressing (orbi)sonic beauty to raucous industrial rattle. Mulholland Drive is about solving mysteries, and it unfolds as an enigma to its viewer. Naomi Watts brings insight and nuance into her role as an overtly sweet ingénue on a journey into fear, touched by evil.
Lauri Timonen