Auteur Theory: David Lynch

What is an auteur? Well blame the French for this. Cinema critics of the 1950s were tired of the conveyer belt approach that studio directors had taken towards filmmaking. There were no distinguishable characteristics by each director - just formulaic, commercial pap which was churned out time and time again.

Auteur critics wanted a new wave of cinema and argued the camera should be an instrument for art, just as the brush is for the artist. As a instrument, the camera should provide artistic integrity; the auteur should demonstrate technical mastery, a distinguished personality and provoke an interior meaning to their work. As such a group of select auteur directors deemed to meet these standards were born: Howard Hawks, Alfred Hitchcock and in recent times Kubrick, Lynch, Tarrantino and Wes Anderson.

This might seem strange to today’s cinema audiences, after all many film lovers could name their favourite director - suggesting that most films have a distinct look and feel. But a director like Stephen Spielberg is not an auteur (debatable) - even though his work is distinct and has repeated themes it arguably does not stir an interior meaning. Also, his work is commercial successful suggesting a popularist approach to filmmaking and a willingness to be influenced by the financial ambitions of the studio. Don’t get me wrong, I love Spielberg films, I’m just playing devils advocate.

An auteur might be a critic’s dream, but what are the limitations? Withstanding artistic integrity and vision in an industry which inherently relies on a team (sometimes an army) of people to produce. Keeping their unique stamp on the finished work without turning out the same old recognisable tricks. And finally, the medium. Producing a cinematic masterpiece is reliant on the theatre – the sound system, the oversized screen, the darkness, and the all-encompassing sensory experience. Once taken into the home, arguably, the film is no longer the work of an auteur.

Critics seem to deem the cinema as the pinnacle and playground of auteur work, and assign only directors to be worthy of this title (not producers or cinematographers) so can TV create auteurs who are producers? Or is this a ‘lesser’ medium not worthy of true, artistic and critical acclaim?

Well, we discussed today how a director like Lynch consistently manages to keep a distinct identity within his work. In an interview he described the film making process as an abstract cloud of ideas. He maintains the vision and everyone working with him subscribes to this - they can makes suggestions (which might be included in the work) but their suggestions only work as part of this wider cloud of ideas which is gently floating through the process with him at the centre. Nice and direct.

As a trans media artist Lynch manages to keep a “lynchian” tone to all his work – it’s always distinctly his whether it’s TV, film or painting. He uses repeated metaphors (red curtains, mystery sinister figures), music (industrial, ambient soundtracks) and a unique directorial style (camera angles, disjointed narrative) to make this stamp.

We watched a 1-minute short Lynch created to celebrate the 100^th Anniversary of the Lumiere Camera. 60 seconds of continuous filming with no edits, no sound (other than a dubbed on soundtrack) Lynch still manages to display extraordinary technical skill, style and authorship. The mark of a genuine auteur – to not have to rely on any one medium or additional people! It was a magical, engaging and eerie piece which even not knowing it was Lynch, you could make an educated guess by the tone and feel.

Sadly we were shown a “making of” clip which had filmed Lynch filming the short. Now, I’m not a fan of behind the scenes sections or even DVD director’s commentary to be honest. I prefer Roland Barthes’s “Death of the Author” approach to cinema going – I don’t need a director to tell me what their vision was, or how they created it – I don’t want it to influence my experience as ultimately it doesn’t matter what the director intended, it’s what I took away from it that counts.

The strange thing about films, which is unlike authorship in novels, is that with a book you don’t get the back-story – there isn’t an introduction which explains how Thomas Hardy wrote Tess of the D’Urbervilles or what was happening socially at the time to influence him (well sometimes). Good thing too, it’s really got nothing to do with how you interpret the book, the story, the narrative. This is why I like Lynch, he refuses to help out the audience, he doesn’t offer explanation, he doesn’t care if you draw conclusions or flap about in frustration. I watched Mulholland Drive for the first time 2 days ago and it’s still going round and round in my head, that’s why I think it’s an auteur film – anyone got any explanations they want to share, then I’ll pleased to hear what you got from it!

“Poisonous Valentine for Hollywood” – Mulholland Drive

This week I start a new film course at the Broadway in Nottingham, this time the theme is David Lynch. Ouch. I could have picked Hitchock and studied movies with clear constructs and narratives which follow a logical path, but where would be the fun in that? So last night I decided to watch Mulholland Drive (2001) and get stuck into the surreal workings of Lynch’s mind and films.

For anyone who’s seen the film you may well have had the same reaction to me when it ended; WTF. Well, exactly, it’s no clear story. This morning I decided to seek the advice of professionals and hit Google hard. It seems to be fairly conclusive that most critics assign the narrative to be first a dream sequence and second a gritty reality of the characters.

Betty (Naomi Watts), a “gee golly wiz” girl from Ontario arrives in LA to stay at her Aunts Sunset Boulevard apartment, on arrival she finds the injured doe, “Rita” (Laura Elena Harring), who’s suffering amnesia from a car accident the night before. In the process of trying to find out whom “Rita” really is and what the blue key opens Betty auditions successfully for a film role and the two women fall in love. Their story ends at the eerie club Silencio where on returning to the apartment with the blue box Betty found, “Rita” turns the key, Betty disappears and the audience are sucked into the black hole.

This section does seem dream like to me – Betty’s lines feel so “wholesome” and out of synch with those around her, her upbeat nature, her inability to feel fear, her extremely talented performance at the audition (smooth transition from naive girl to Hollywood seductress) all point to an idealistic attitude towards life. The beautiful “Rita”, a genuine 50s bombshell who’s dependant and submissive in nature, yet wiley and astute enough to work out how to break into Aunt Ruth’s apartment undetected. The fact the two girls are called Betty and Rita (harks back to 50s Hollywood), the easy way in which they break into Diane’s apartment and the fact they’re unfazed later that night by the horror of what they had seen. Lynch’s camera angles drift upwards as the characters speak (symbolising an out of body experience?) which gives the scenes a surreal edge, as do the winding (almost drunken) views of walking through the corridors of Aunt Ruth’s apartment.

The second half of the film depicts the sad, embittered life of Dianne (Naomi Watts) and her unrequited relationship with the cruel, beautiful and teasing Camilla (Laura Elena Harring). The audience sees her hung-over (drink and drugs?) tired and lack being awoken by the terrifying cowboy figure (twice, so we know things have gone wrong - his earlier warning to the director Adam, played by Justin Theroux) and in her morning stupor hallucinating that the Camilla has returned to her. Her sad tale at Adam’s party forces her publicly announce her failed movie dreams and re-live the broken promises by industry professionals while the twisted and successful Camilla openly taunts her (kissing another woman and fawning over Adam). The reality is Dianne works as a waitress and the vicious rejection she receives forces her hand to hire the assassin to kill Camilla, unable to live with her guilt she shoots herself. The camera angles change in this section too, no high angles (out of body style), no soft focus stylised close ups – rather the opposite, intimate, uncomfortable angles which show every imperfection.

Well, what about the old couple? Diane could be haunted by her own conscious, a failure to herself and her parents? Or are they simple demons in disguise? Are Betty and Rita the dream of what Dianne really wanted - her subconscious desire, her daydream? Or did everything really happen and all four characters exist together in some parallel universe?

Mulholland Drive is like the road itself, a winding, twisted route through Hollywood with some clear pointers and clues along the route, which, if you chose to ignore them do not stop you getting to your destination. Perhaps that’s the point, there are clues like the red lamp, the ashtray, the blue keys the people at Winkies but ultimately if you see them or miss them you’re none the wiser at the end, having reached the conclusion of the film with hopefully your own interpretation. I think it’s always a good film if you spend days afterwards thinking about it, and perhaps that’s the point as Lynch has never offered an explanation – maybe it’s one huge joke, made up as he went along like Twin Peaks to frustrate and tantalise the audience – the clues are not there to be sensibly analysed but rather to anchor the narrative with traditional repeated metaphors? Who knows?

I loved it; I need to watch it again but hopefully this film course will throw up some good insights along the way.

Best scene: the scary as hell club “Silencio” where we are told in several different languages that, “it’s all an illusion.”