David Lynch 75 (En)

David Lynch turns 75. 

28 years ago in a Galaxy far, far away (to be precise, in post-Soviet Ukraine) there was evening broadcast of a fairly new thing, a TV show, which consisted from many episodes—nobody knew at the time how many of them they will watch. The first (a pilot: the term was also unknown at the time) was shocking: there was a young blond girl, Laura, who was killed and wrapped in plastic. She lived in that small town somewhere in America (which state exactly, no one remembered, but the landscapes looked beautiful), and the name of the town was Twin Peaks. Everyone was mourning the death of that young girl, a hometown beauty queen, a kind and loving daughter, a good friend, a soul of any company she joined. 

But there was something else about this pilot episode that made the whole experience unforgettable and oddly satisfying despite the heaviness and grieving: the atmosphere.

It was uncanny and surreal as if a person who is observing the unfolding narrative, was doing so in a dream which is a half-nightmare, half your favourite story that you loved but somehow forgot. Or did you?.. Owls remind you that they aren’t what they seem; a young FBI agent drinks a damn fine cup of coffee with a slice of the best cherry pie; a teenage girl whose beauty is so dazzling that you can’t believe your very eyes, is dancing quietly, repeating ‘Isn’t it too dreamy?’ and you agree, oh you do—and then, you are walking slowly around sycamore trees before entering the place where deep red drapes and a mosaic floor lead you to nowhere, same as it ever was, same as it ever was. 

So, isn’t it too dreamy? Lynch is asking you this question again and again, and you always feel that you almost answer it yet at the very last second (the longest one) you fail—and float between worlds as Eraserhead in alternative Philly, or Betty/Diane with Rita/Camilla at Club Silencio, or Phillip Jeffries, and don’t get me even started to talk about Judy. Lynch seems to make every nightmare bittersweet and cosy, and it’s hard to leave it and return to reality. Is it even better? I am not sure anymore. And so is Lynch. And thanks him for that a lot. Let’s live inside a dream instead.