Friday, April 30, 2010

Mulholland Drive

Mulholland Drive seems to require a lot of focus. I had little on Tuesday. I dozed off a number of times throughout the film. Based on what I was able to stay awake for, I did learn that boobs hold my attention a lot longer than, well, just about anything else. But Mulholand Drive itself was dreamy, and I think this - along with the heat of the room - contributed to my dozing off. There was one scene, though - a scene entirely free of nudity I might add - that I couldn't drift away from if I tried: The scene with the Spanish singer.

For me, this scene expressed most succinctly the point of the film -- or at least a point. To star off the show at Club Silencio, the announcer demonstrates a seemingly simple idea: "This is all a tape recording, and yet, we hear a band," he says. This point seems not to warrant the drama produced in the announcer's voice. But then he summons sounds of thunder accompanied by mysterious blue, flickering light, and Betty shakes uncontrollably. This sets the stage for Llorando, the Spanish opera singer.

What amazed me was that as a spectator of Club Silencio, where the announcer pounds into us that this is all a recording, I was totally duped by Llorando. The emotion she expressed felt so connected to the singing. The tear, literally painted on her face to suggest a sort of superimposed emotion, seemed appropriate given the sadness I saw in her eyes. Never mind that she didn't quite cry -- her eyes did, and in this way she tricked me into feeling her "pain." In anticipation to the moment of truth, Llorando just poured on the emotion -- bringing her passion to new heights with every measure.

The moment when she fainted was revealing. I had been tricked, and so had Betty. What really interested me was that Lynch brings Betty to this incredible height of compassion for Llorando and there seems to be nothing sadder than what is going onstage -- until he pulls the plug on the act. This is the saddest thing of course, that it is all an act. You can see it on Betty's face, too. That the performance is pre-recorded seemed like a trivial statement when only band music was at stake. But when applied to the elements of nature -- thunder -- and further, to one of our own in the form of the singer, the statement becomes profoundly upsetting.

2 comments:

  1. Pity you didn't stay awake for more of it. (The singer, by the way, was Rebekah del Rio, and the song was a cover of a very old Roy Orbison tune). Because what you're describing--the intense emotion that turns out to be nothing about a recording, is thematic in some ways that are interesting to explore.

    Give this movie another try when you're not so overloaded. It's too rich a text and you too insightful an analyst to give it such sketchy attention.

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  2. I am surprised you fell asleep during this Lynch film compared to his others, lol. But its udnerstandable especially for this class being so late in the day. But for me, this is one of the few Lynch films that actually has momentum and keeps you the viewer glued to the screen. Many of his other films( Inland Empire cough cough) have had me sleep through the whole thing. Anyway, interesting notes on the pre-recorded elements. I love how it is this whole notion of how everything in film is an illusion and obviously pre-recorded, but is that way to suspend disbelief. It is the filmmaker's job to hold that suspension from beginning to end, but Lynch wanted to pull the rug right out from under the audience and show them the truth.

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