Mulholland Drive (2001) - 8/10
Mulholland Drive has been on my list well before this project was even an idea. It is a film with a massive reputation as one of cinema’s greatest offerings and has the added bonus of coming from one of the most interesting creative voices in Hollywood. Nevertheless, within the context of this rubric, I’m not sure it lives up to the hype. I suspect part of this reaction is due to this being my first viewing, but this is certainly not a film for everyone. Lynch’s surrealism really worked for me when I first discovered Twin Peaks, but as much as I want to like this film, I’m not sure that I did.
We’ll get into the finer details as we go, but I’m of the mindset that simply being “different” doesn’t inherently justify this film’s appearance on so many “greatest of all time” lists.
1. Acting
If there is one aspect of this film that absolutely lives up to the hype, it is Naomi Watts. After spending the first decade of her career in small roles and lesser-known films, Watts’s breakout performance here shows that casting directors were sleeping on her for quite some time. In what essentially becomes a dual role as Diane/Betty, Watts runs the full gamut of emotions—both as a doe-eyed, soon-to-be starlet and as a depressed, desperate victim of Hollywood’s darker side.
Betty is almost a fairy-tale princess whose optimism and talent make her feel like a near lock for success. Watts’s almost soap-opera-like, whimsical approach is apparent and makes Betty feel very distinct from Diane. Then, as the narrative shifts in the final act, Watts ditches Betty’s breezy nature and taps into Diane’s quiet sadness and extreme inner turmoil. The juxtaposition is fantastic and clearly demonstrates her talent.
Perhaps her best moment in the film is an almost meta one. Toward the midpoint, Betty has her first audition and absolutely crushes it. Watts completely lures you in and leaves both the characters in the room and the real-life audience astounded.
Outside of Watts, the rest of the cast is a mix of frequent Lynch collaborators and two major supporting leads who hadn’t worked with him before. Everyone involved, even if they didn’t fully understand the film, executes Lynch’s vision well. Justin Theroux and Laura Harring, in particular, do strong work in their supporting roles, with Theroux nearly stealing the show at times in the B-plot.
2. Cinematography
Surrealism is usually marked by shocking, irrational, or absurd imagery. In the case of Mulholland Drive, Lynch and cinematographer Peter Deming seem intent on using imagery to subtly subvert the audience. Whether you realize it or not, most viewers are attuned to a particular visual language when watching films. This is why techniques like the Dutch angle work so well—your brain naturally recognizes when something doesn’t look right.
Here, there is a great deal of experimentation aimed at making the audience feel unsettled, as if something is fundamentally off.
To achieve this, the first half of the film feels almost trance-like. Bright colors and natural or artificial sunlight illuminate much of the film. Arguably, this is even overdone when we first meet Betty, as the imagery borders on overexposure. Tonally, this fits Betty’s story, but it also feels unreal—too bright, too cheerful, too colorful. Something feels amiss.
We also see this unease in the use of Steadicam POV shots. The way the camera moves through Betty’s apartment, for instance, feels unnatural and builds a sense akin to dread. Later, when the narrative begins to shift toward Diane’s story, the colors darken and the lighting becomes more muted. The camera movement also becomes more conventional as reality replaces the dreamlike narrative of the first half.
More generally, the film’s visual choices simply feel odd. The angles, the framing, and the soap-opera-style zooms all feel misplaced in a “Hollywood” movie. I can’t say exactly why some of these decisions were made, but I suspect the unexpectedness is part of the point.
3. Production / Costume Design
I’ve already touched on the film’s color scheme, so I’ll just say that I liked the location choices. There isn’t a huge variety of locales, but the selections do a good job of selling Los Angeles in both light and dark ways. In particular, using Caesar’s Diner as a stand-in for Winkie’s and Il Borghese for Betty’s apartment feels pitch-perfect.
4. Writing
Here’s what really bugs me about this film: is David Lynch a genius, or did a bunch of people just decide he is?
I think my lukewarm reaction is partly rooted in disappointment. After years of hearing hype about Mulholland Drive, I expected to be blown away. Instead, I’m left with mixed feelings about a film that has many great ideas but functions more as a surrealist tapestry than as a traditional narrative. So again— is this truly a masterpiece, or has the hype simply gotten out of control?
Because of how the film is constructed, there are endless interpretations and analyses. I’ll avoid diving too deeply into those for brevity’s sake, but it’s still worth discussing the script itself.
Despite initial appearances, the film dresses up a fairly straightforward plot in non-linear clothing. It’s essentially a two-part story. One revolves around Diane, a depressed and struggling actor who decides to have her ex-lover killed. The other is a dreamlike fairy tale Diane constructs once she becomes unable to cope with reality. Instead of her tragic life, she imagines Betty—a starry-eyed young actress who comes to Hollywood, solves a mystery, nails auditions, and falls in love.
By using a surreal, non-linear narrative, Lynch elevates this relatively simple story into a compelling mystery that forces the audience to actively participate.
The juxtaposition between Diane and Betty also reinforces the film’s subtext. Lynch clearly has a complicated relationship with Hollywood. While he loves movies and television—his work is filled with references and affectionate parody—he also finds Hollywood’s profit-driven, exploitative nature distasteful. We see this contrast through Betty’s optimism and joyful experiences in the first half of the film, followed by the darker, more painful reality of Diane’s trauma in the second.
This indictment of Hollywood extends into the B-plot involving director Adam. He initially appears as a brash auteur, only to be quickly undermined by shadowy figures who dictate casting decisions. Despite his protests, Adam is ultimately forced to comply.
Beyond plot and structure, the script contains many intriguing elements. The dialogue often taps into the uncanny tone typical of Lynch’s work. At times it feels melodramatic and simplistic; at others, it’s ambiguously cryptic—so much so that silence might have been just as effective. In rarer moments, it becomes outright bizarre, such as Adam’s meeting with the two mysterious figures who alternately whisper, yell, and spit while repeating, “This is the girl.”
Lynch also subverts narrative conventions to great effect. Early on, we’re introduced to two detectives investigating Camilla’s car crash. In a conventional mystery, these characters would be crucial. Instead, they never appear again. Lynch further toys with expectations by casting recognizable actors Robert Forster and Brent Briscoe in these roles, only to abandon the thread entirely. This deliberate misdirection creates unease and reinforces the idea that nothing in this film can be trusted.
Another nearly abandoned subplot involves two men discussing a dream at a diner. The scene’s bizarre conclusion—featuring a terrifying, dirt-covered figure that causes one character’s death—feels disconnected from the narrative. While it likely has thematic relevance, its execution seems primarily designed to deepen the film’s unsettling atmosphere.
Similarly, the assassin subplot initially plays as dark comedy. Before we even know his purpose in the story, we watch him accidentally kill multiple people while trying to retrieve a black book. The scene is tonally distinct and largely contextless, again keeping the audience off-balance.
Ultimately, one could endlessly analyze this script and its ambiguity. Many have described it as a Rorschach test, where interpretations reveal more about the viewer than the filmmaker. If that’s the case, I struggle to see anything recognizable in the inkblot. I see a script that goes out of its way to confuse and destabilize. It’s intellectually interesting, but I don’t find it as entertaining as others seem to.
5. Sound Design
Like the film’s other elements, sound is used expertly to craft atmosphere. Angelo Badalamenti’s soap-opera-adjacent score leans into the dreamlike qualities of the film. At the same time, Lynch’s strategic use of silence—or near silence—creates an overwhelming sense of unease in key moments.
6. Editing
On an initial viewing, it’s difficult to fully assess the effectiveness of the edit. Betty’s story dominates the runtime and frequently pauses to explore seemingly unrelated threads. How intentional the non-linear progression is isn’t immediately clear, but I didn’t find it distracting. Mary Sweeney does a strong job preserving Lynch’s vision. The film occasionally flirts with indulgence, but clarity for the audience was clearly not a priority.
7. Visual Effects
Aside from a few minor touches, there isn’t much to evaluate in terms of digital visual effects.
8. Originality or Strength of Adaptation
While the film draws influence from neo-noir, surrealism, and soap operas, it remains a singular piece of cinema. The conventional bones of a movie are present, but Lynch reshapes them entirely through his personal style. Films like this rarely get greenlit, let alone receive wide releases.
9. Stunt Coordination
Nothing of note here.
10. Direction
David Lynch is clearly involved in every creative decision. From editing and sound design to lighting and shot selection, every aspect of the film bears his signature. While this level of control may limit collaboration, it results in a film that feels unmistakably his. That kind of auteur-driven vision is rare.
Legacy / Final Thoughts
Returning to my earlier question: is David Lynch truly a genius? I’m not sure. If this film is indeed a Rorschach test, then I think some of its fervent praise may stem from bandwagon enthusiasm. While it is undeniably unique compared to most Hollywood output, I don’t believe that alone justifies its placement on a cinematic Mount Rushmore.
Lynch has undeniably crafted something special. I’m not arguing that the film is bad or that its admirers are wrong. It’s layered, creative, and deeply evocative—a love letter to cinema and a condemnation of Hollywood in equal measure. Wherever other directors would zig, Lynch zags. That said, the film is also alienating and deliberately obtuse. I don’t believe films need to cater to the lowest common denominator, but I also don’t think auteur cinema is inherently brilliant simply by virtue of being difficult.
Ultimately, I can appreciate what Mulholland Drive does and attempts to do, but I stand by my assessment: it is not the masterpiece many claim it to be.
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