“At The End Of The Story”: Strand Magazine On David Lynch
On the 16th of January, director, visionary, and lover of dreams, David Lynch passed just four days before his birthday at the age of seventy-eight, leaving a colossal cavity in the heart of film. In the almost eight decades of his life, David Lynch crafted a phantasmagoric filmography with works such as Blue Velvet (1986), Twin Peaks (1990), and Mulholland Drive (2001). Not only did these films capture the zeitgeist on release, but they continue to resonate in contemporary culture. A polymath, Lynch was dedicated to film alongside painting and music — a man of the avant-garde in every aspect of his artistry.
Lynch posted on X disclosing his diagnosis with emphysema attributed to his chain-smoking habit, leaving many to worry about his condition. Following the LA wildfires, he was forced to leave his home. No definite cause of death has been revealed to the public, although many believe the smoke from the fires contributed to his passing.
David Lynch surveyed the surreality of American society, whether it was the Hollywood industry, or suburban life. His visual style captured beauty in the abstract, in nature, in darkness, in tragedy, but also in simplicity, like a good cup of hot black coffee. On Lynch’s cinematic language, recent graduate of Film at King’s College London and Freelance Arts and Culture Journalist, Barney Nuttall, recounts, “David Lynch was the second filmmaker to blow my mind. Wes Anderson was the first—his films showed me that film can be artistic in a painterly sense. David Lynch’s films showed me that films can be artistic in their own right. He spoke his own language, one which I could understand perfectly even if I couldn’t articulate the precise meaning of Twin Peaks or Mulholland Drive. That’s why Lynch famously kept schtum in interviews, because the distilled feelings his work evoked operated beyond literature, fine art, or another form of media. They were purely filmic expressions.”
David Lynch’s fixed commitment to his art outweighed desire for profit and gluttony; in 1981, he declined to direct Star Wars: Return of the Jedi (1983) even after being approached by George Lucas. Lynch chose to champion the essence of the ‘idea’, powered by instinct and vision. However, his worst nightmare challenged this virtue, and burst to the fore on the production of Dune (1984) when conglomerates at Universal seized control, refusing him the final cut of the sci-fi picture. Post-Dune, Lynch re-evaluated his role in the world of cinema and refused to be exploited again.
Editor-in-chief at Strand Magazine and film student Oisín McGilloway writes, “David Lynch represented exactly what can happen when you give a filmmaker full creative control. From the notorious fights in the original run of Twin Peaks, to being given full reign for Twin Peaks: The Return (2017) and produce what is arguably one of the best screen creations to date, to having a reputation built around enjoying the unknown, what you don’t necessarily understand but feel strong enough to engage with. That’s what defines a stalwart filmmaker, and is exactly what David Lynch embodied. What’s more exciting, though, are the swathes of young and upcoming filmmakers from all walks of life who have been inspired by him and his mantra—it’s at least calming to know the weird and wonderful world he’s left behind is in safe hands.”
Filmmakers, actors, students and artists are left bereft — David Lynch’s death looms over screenings across the globe. His influence was especially palpable at the opening of the London Short Film Festival, where festival co-director Charlotte Ashcroft quoted Lynch. Filmmakers Carol Morley, Jamie Thraves, and Alnoor Dewshi all discussed Lynch’s profound effect on their own artistic endeavours. Both Morley and Dewshi referenced The Elephant Man (1980) in their work, whilst Thraves looked back on his thirty-year-old short film and observed how making it felt like yesterday; he noted how films can transcend time, but particularly how Lynch’s work offers a fresh interpretation with every watch.
Similarly, the world of student culture continues to be influenced by Lynch’s irrefutable originality. Third-year Liberal Arts student at King’s College London, Raya Dasgupta remembered, “The first Lynch I watched was Blue Velvet when I was fifteen. I put a picture of it on my wall (I secretly didn’t enjoy it, or understand it). I felt a bit out of place for not seeing the appeal. It wasn’t until I watched Twin Peaks that I began to appreciate Lynch’s bizarre style and his depictions of America. I really appreciate filmmakers who subvert the typical linear, [who challenge] the Hollywood American-Dream narrative, and turn it into something darker.”
Additionally, KCL Film Society’s Head of Screenings and second-year English and French Law student, Pauline Hussenet expressed, “He made me realise how much I loved film, and how there are some stories that can only be told through film. I love how there are so many ways you can interpret [them]!”
My memory of Mulholland Drive is this: sitting in my partner’s pokey bedroom, lights out, a television screen glaring into my irises. Feeling unsettled and bewildered, yet still in complete and utter awe, demonstrably transfixed, I tried to work as a detective, attempting to unravel the secrets Lynch kept tightly wound. I spent my time scouring the internet querying, “What happens at the end of Mulholland Drive?”, “What is the meaning of Mulholland Drive?” Any well-versed Lynchian will tell you that there is no one answer to those questions. When I did find the answers, they were deficient. To dissect and probe his films for a singular and ultimate meaning is fruitless. Lynch left me in that pokey room, forever changed, forever wanting to ask questions. When you finish a Lynch film, you don’t leave knowing what it ‘means’ or what point it was making. You leave with feeling.
What has struck me more with every Lynch film I encounter, was how deeply he understood and appreciated his female characters. No one embodies this more than Laura Palmer played by Sheryl Lee in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992). Her horror reflects the real-life sorrows that exist for many women across the globe. Teenage girls and young women frame photos of her by their bedside, mourning the life of this character who feels ever so real, exceeding the parasocial. Palmer encapsulates everything about humanity and womanhood: love, lust, fear, anguish, pity, and all. He makes each dimension, each complexity of the women he constructs, shine beyond imagination, highlighting their lustful and sensual qualities whilst understanding their experiences under the patriarchy.
Before David Lynch passed, I spoke to a professor about Mulholland Drive. He, aghast, exclaimed, “You’ve never seen Blue Velvet?!” Defensive, I realised why I had been putting off not watching his whole filmography. I wanted to make his films last a lifetime. I said back, “He may die soon. I need to be able to watch something that he made, and space it out for the rest of my life.”
In this time of collective mourning for an irreplaceable loss, we should listen to Lynch himself, “I believe life is a continuum, and that no one really dies, they just drop their physical body and we’ll all meet again, like the song says. It’s sad but it’s not devastating if you think like that…We’re all going to be fine at the end of the story.”
