Allow me to say first that I hated this film with a passion, me a Davey Lynch do NOT get along.
My theory, and be aware that this is merely a theory, the fruit of long hours of ranting and irritated ponderance, is this:
Mullholland Drive is a film with two stories. The actual story is that of Diane, a young actress who arrives in Hollywood and has a relationship of some kind with the tall brunette lady whose name I forget. However, as the later scenes in the film show, she is not a talented actress, and is looked over by casting agents for a more attractive and talented woman. Meanwhile, it would seem that her former partner is now involved with the mysterious blonde lady, since she kisses her in the party scene.
I believe that, embittered with her lost dreams and abandoned by her partner, Diane pays the blonde unkempt hitman to murder the brunette. This is I believe is indicated by the fact that it is Diane's telephone that the hitman calls Diane's phone to confirm the hit. He also says he will leave a sign when he has completed the assignment, and holds up a blue key, which later appears on Diane's coffee table.
Now the rest of the film is in fact the twisted surreal dream that Diane has during her guilt crazed masterbating breakdown.
Elements of the actual story permeate into Diane's fantasy such as the hit, except in her dream the hit goes wrong and the brunette escapes, exonerating Diane of her guilt. Meanwhile Diane is successful and talented and happy instead of burntout tired and rejected.
The blue key, the symbol of her crime turns up again as the distorted triangular key to the box. Once Diane opens the box with the key, she must once again face her horrible reality, since the dream is broken and the truth is contained within the mysterious box. Also the homeless demon man, strikes me as a physical manifestation of Diane's sin, and it is he who unleashes the veangeful old couple upon her. I haven't seen this movie for a while, and have done my best to forget it because I find it far too obscure and smugly surreal, I feel a better film maker could have worked the themes into a more palatable, plausible and satisfying story and more effectively too.
Of course, some would say it's Lynch taking a stab at the absurd contrived artificial nature of Hollywood, and that's all well and good, but I still think it's a cop out to use the garish metaphors and symbolism afforded one by a surreal dream to drive home a point with little panache and hell of a lot of clever plot devices, which in the end left me unsatisfied.
I've left a lot of things out that I remember, simply because to discuss them would take a long time, and I think Lynch has taken up enough of mine for now.
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