The year is 2001. At this point I’ve already seen a few David Lynch films. I’d never (still haven’t) got round to Twin Peaks. I sort of liked Dune (I’ve a soft spot for messy 80’s sci-fi or fantasy). Eraserhead at that point was too weird for me. Blue Velvet is great. Even since, when picking up more first hand experience of his CV, I’m in the camp that finds Lynch a mixed bag. He’s never anything less than mesmerising but as far as the odd David’s, I’ve always lent more toward Cronenberg. It was this year that saw the release of Mulholland Drive.
A then unknown Naomi Watt’s headlining a mind-bending Hollywood pastiche,