Inland Empire David Lynch

Inland Empire David Lynch

Clarity comes with time. Or do we just gain comfort with the ambiguous and uncertain through familiarity? A second viewing of Lynch’s surreal masterpiece Inland Empire is almost an exercise in accepting messages from the subconscious. Though Lynch takes great pains to smear (and occasionally obliterate) the boundaries of linear storytelling, once one gives in to intuition and relaxes expectations for order, the plot takes form like shapes solidifying in fog. A Polish woman is trapped in a bizarre sort of purgatory, sentenced to eternal viewings of her fatal story on a small hotel room television. Laura Dern plays an actress who takes on a role in the remake of the Polish film, supposedly cursed and never finished due to the murder of the two leads, though she learns of this sinister history only after she’s signed on. Nikki, due to the curse, or her own internal psychosis, begins to lose herself completely in the role until the viewer is less certain of who, if anyone, Nikki really is than she is. Alternately, Inland Empire is the most frightening, funny, disorientating, bizarre and poignant film of Lynch’s career, even if it’s also the most indulgent. He doesn’t skimp on the bonus features either, packing a second disc full of suitably twisted goodies. Only Lynch could turn a clip of himself making Quinoa into a riveting noir thriller. Lynch’s creative process and work ethic can be glimpsed in "Lynch 2,” an extensive "behind the scenes” look at the passionately involved filmmaker. His hands are in every aspect of filming, from make-up and prop construction to location scouting. "Stories” finds Lynch discussing meditation, audio quality and his love of Kubrick. The ghostly "Ballerina” scene is included in full, along with 90 minutes of surprisingly gripping deleted footage, which adds informative background texture to the story. (Paradox)