'Talking—it’s real dangerous': Language & David Lynch

Dennis Lim, director of programming at the Film Society of Lincoln Center, and author of the forthcoming David Lynch: The Man from Another Place, writes for The New Yorker about Lynch's use of language: "In Lynch’s own speech and in the speech patterns of his films, the impression is of language used less for meaning than for sound." More:

To savor the thingness of words is to move away from their imprisoning nature. Lynch has said, more than once, that he had to “learn to talk,” and his very particular, somewhat limited vocabulary seems in many ways an outgrowth of his aesthetic. In keeping with his interest in the intangible, he has a curious, syntactically awkward fondness for abstract nouns: “When you do something that works, you have a happiness.” “It’s such a sadness that you think you’ve seen a film on your fucking telephone.” If his films swing between extreme moods, so, too, does the tenor of his conversation, especially when he’s discussing his work. Great ideas are “beautiful” and “thrilling” and make you “fall in love”; when the creative process is impeded, it’s a “terrible thing” that can feel “like death.” (What Lynch, a prodigious coffee drinker, lacks in eloquence, he generally makes up for in caffeinated enthusiasm.)

It is not uncommon for artists to believe that their art should speak for itself. But Lynch’s aphasia is born of a protectiveness that verges on superstition. Words for him are not just reductive; they are anathema to his view of art as fundamentally enigmatic. He says often that his films should leave “room to dream.” To decode a film, to proffer interpretations, to divulge the source of an idea—all these simply mean less room and fewer possible dreams. Called upon to describe his films, Lynch typically gives the most minimal one-liners: “Mulholland Drive” is “a love story in the city of dreams”; “Inland Empire” is the story of “a woman in trouble.” From as far back as “Eraserhead,” he was careful to seed his burgeoning legend with mysteries: he has never revealed what he used to create the movie’s mutant baby (the most popular rumor holds that it was a calf fetus). He has also claimed that “Eraserhead” came together in his head when he chanced upon a sentence in the Bible, while pointedly refusing to specify which one.

Lynch has not exactly been mute on the subject of his art and creative process. He has repeatedly advanced an almost mystical notion of ideas having a life of their own, independent of the artist and waiting to be plucked from the ether. Sometimes he likens himself to a radio, tuning in inspiration on odd frequencies...

Read the rest of the article here.

If you're a fan and in the NYC area come early December, you might also check out this new coupling, listed today: Lynch/Rivette (December 11-22), "a unique dual retrospective that pairs seven films by each director."