There are great filmmakers whose works are inaccessible.
And then there's David Lynch.
Now, this is not to say in any conceivable way that Lynch was necessarily a hard man to follow. I've always thought that -- among the greats -- Lynch was a somewhat easy addition; I might have not always known exactly what he was trying to convey, and yet I could still see that there was a richness to the ideas, so much so that a good deal of what he produced kept me asking more. My point is that while the auteur's vision might not have been to everyone's personal tastes he still had a way a capturing moments in time and delivering them in such a way that I wanted to know more, that I needed to know more, and that I was perfectly willing to stay focused in hopes that some vast secret might be revealed in the process. That may not have always happened, but Lynch never made me feel inferior for not grasping the central point he was trying to make.
The same could not be said of all storytellers.
A few years back, I had the good fortune of appearing on a podcast to talk about Lynch's version of Dune. (Yes, this was about the time that Denis Villeneuve's Dune: Part 1 was hitting theatres, so various podcasters were ramping up the online chatter in anticipation of a theatrical hit.) In preparation of that visit, I did a fair amount of reading on the 1984 interpretation; while a good portion of it reinforced mostly what I had already known and thought about the film, there were still a handful of other stories that suggested that Lynch's version -- while praised in small circles -- truly deserved a second look. So I did watch it again; and even though that revisitation didn't change my bottomline assessment of why it largely failed to ignite any passion surround the Frank Herbert saga, I did watch closely for moments I thought might've best represented what fueled Lynch's desire to tell that particular story.
Given that the director had very little to do (as I understand) with that final cut, I'm not sure I learned anything new. What I did see, however, was a measure of passion I had somehow missed before. There was so much life in the efforts to bring separate peoples and separate civilizations to life -- a great deal of it through the production design -- and I was a bit surprised I had missed so much of it. Lynch clearly went to great pains to find a narrative hook for every single species in there -- even those only shown fleetingly -- and that suggests that he was a master of seeing something significant -- some beating heart -- in even the most obscure places. His was an eye that could detect something small but important; and he had an imagination that could then bring this element to bold, visual life for those watching close enough to notice.
That's a trait that cannot be taught. It comes from the soul. It's how a man sees, thinks, and breathes.
Alas, that's something that we've lost ... to a degree. Now that he's gone, it's up to us -- to each of us who are fans of the man's body of work -- to seek it out and celebrate it in the days, months, and years ahead. It's incumbent upon us to keep his vision alive because it's one of the very best deserving of celebration.
Now ... the sleeper truly has awakened.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of David Lynch.
May be rest in peace.
-- EZ
And then there's David Lynch.
Now, this is not to say in any conceivable way that Lynch was necessarily a hard man to follow. I've always thought that -- among the greats -- Lynch was a somewhat easy addition; I might have not always known exactly what he was trying to convey, and yet I could still see that there was a richness to the ideas, so much so that a good deal of what he produced kept me asking more. My point is that while the auteur's vision might not have been to everyone's personal tastes he still had a way a capturing moments in time and delivering them in such a way that I wanted to know more, that I needed to know more, and that I was perfectly willing to stay focused in hopes that some vast secret might be revealed in the process. That may not have always happened, but Lynch never made me feel inferior for not grasping the central point he was trying to make.
The same could not be said of all storytellers.
A few years back, I had the good fortune of appearing on a podcast to talk about Lynch's version of Dune. (Yes, this was about the time that Denis Villeneuve's Dune: Part 1 was hitting theatres, so various podcasters were ramping up the online chatter in anticipation of a theatrical hit.) In preparation of that visit, I did a fair amount of reading on the 1984 interpretation; while a good portion of it reinforced mostly what I had already known and thought about the film, there were still a handful of other stories that suggested that Lynch's version -- while praised in small circles -- truly deserved a second look. So I did watch it again; and even though that revisitation didn't change my bottomline assessment of why it largely failed to ignite any passion surround the Frank Herbert saga, I did watch closely for moments I thought might've best represented what fueled Lynch's desire to tell that particular story.
Given that the director had very little to do (as I understand) with that final cut, I'm not sure I learned anything new. What I did see, however, was a measure of passion I had somehow missed before. There was so much life in the efforts to bring separate peoples and separate civilizations to life -- a great deal of it through the production design -- and I was a bit surprised I had missed so much of it. Lynch clearly went to great pains to find a narrative hook for every single species in there -- even those only shown fleetingly -- and that suggests that he was a master of seeing something significant -- some beating heart -- in even the most obscure places. His was an eye that could detect something small but important; and he had an imagination that could then bring this element to bold, visual life for those watching close enough to notice.
That's a trait that cannot be taught. It comes from the soul. It's how a man sees, thinks, and breathes.
Alas, that's something that we've lost ... to a degree. Now that he's gone, it's up to us -- to each of us who are fans of the man's body of work -- to seek it out and celebrate it in the days, months, and years ahead. It's incumbent upon us to keep his vision alive because it's one of the very best deserving of celebration.
Now ... the sleeper truly has awakened.
Our warmest thoughts and prayers are extended to the family, friends, and fans of David Lynch.
May be rest in peace.
-- EZ
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