I’ve never slept very well.
One evening in eighth grade, my insomnia drove me downstairs to my family’s living room to catch some HBO. It was around 3 a.m. on a Sunday. I turned on the TV just in time to see the opening scene of a film called Wild at Heart. Immediately captivated, I watched the entire thing. I haven’t been the same since.
Don’t ask me to describe Wild at Heart or my favorite Lynch film (and favorite flick of all time), Mulholland Drive, to you. I can’t. The man’s work always evoked something intangible – pieces of art meant to be felt rather than understood. What did I feel when watching Wild at Heart for the first time at 3 a.m.? Transported to another world, full of bright colors and grim darkness. And cigarette smoke. Lots of cigarette smoke. And extraordinary music. (Thanks to you in the Great Beyond, Angelo.) I felt at home.
Mulholland Drive engulfed me years later. His masterpiece. I've seen it 28 times.
No other filmmaker has moved me more. Not even Wim Wenders and his extraordinary Wings of Desire. Most women I’ve shared a bed with over the years have been given the tests: the Club Silencio scene in Mulholland Drive and the accident scene in Wings of Desire. If they’re not moved by either, they’re not at my side for very long.
But I digress.
2003. The Parlor in West Hollywood. A place I loved. I’m part of a crowd waiting to see Rebekah Del Rio perform. There’s a guestbook at the bar. I write a message below one that reads something like, “Rebekah – you’re wonderful. David.” I think nothing of it. There are a lot of Davids in West Hollywood. Hell, there were a lot of Davids in and out of The Parlor in those days (Including J., he of Bauhaus/Love and Rockets fame).
I give Johnny Depp a nod as I leave the bar and make my way toward the stage so I can cry along to Rebekah’s “Llorando.”
Priorities.
A few days later, the LA Weekly noted that Mr. Lynch had been at the show. I had been in a darkened, speakeasy-style room — a place that could’ve easily been in one of his movies — with the man and didn’t know it.
I like that.
EMAIL JOEL at gaustenbooks@gmail.com
