In the pilot episode of Twin Peaks, David Lynch masterfully captures the mundane rhythms of daily life, setting the scene in a high school. We witness a schoolgirl sneaking a cigarette, a boy being summoned to the principal's office, and a teacher taking attendance. The tranquility is shattered when a police officer enters the classroom and whispers to the teacher. A scream pierces the air, and through the window, a student is seen sprinting across the courtyard. The teacher struggles to hold back tears, bracing for an imminent announcement. Lynch's camera then focuses on an empty seat in the middle of the class, where two students exchange glances, realizing with a sinking heart that their friend Laura Palmer is dead.
David Lynch was renowned for his keen eye on the surface-level details of life, yet he consistently delved deeper, revealing an unsettling undercurrent that suggested something was always just not right. This scene from Twin Peaks encapsulates the thematic essence of his career, subtly introducing the notion that beneath the veneer of normality lies a darker truth. Yet, while this moment is quintessentially Lynchian, his prolific body of work over more than four decades offers countless other scenes that fans might argue are equally definitive. Each coffee-drinking, weather-report-watching, card-carrying Lynch enthusiast might have a different favorite, highlighting the diverse appeal of his singular vision.
The term "Lynchian" has become synonymous with that eerie, dream-like quality that defines his work. This quality, which evokes a sense of unease and disorientation, is what cemented Lynch's legendary status. The difficulty in accepting his passing for fans lies in the loss of this unique voice, whose work resonated with each individual in a personal way.
Few artists can claim to have inspired a new adjective. While terms like "Spielbergian" or "Scorsese-ish" refer to specific stylistic elements, "Kafkaesque" and "Lynchian" describe broader, more pervasive feelings of unease and surrealism. "Lynchian" captures an atmosphere that transcends the specifics of his films, joining an elite club of terms that encapsulate a universal yet elusive feeling.
For budding film enthusiasts, watching Lynch's midnight movie classic Eraserhead was a rite of passage. Decades later, the same tradition continues, as seen when a teenage son, alongside his father, embarked on his own journey into Lynch's universe. The son and his girlfriend even began binge-watching Twin Peaks of their own volition, reaching the Windom Earle era of Season 2.
Lynch's work possesses a timeless quality, often described as odd. This is evident in Twin Peaks: The Return, where a child's bedroom is designed to resemble that of a 1956 10-year-old, complete with cowboy decor. Lynch, who would have been 10 in 1956, crafted a world where the child's father is a clone from another dimension, and an evil clone violently disrupts reality.
Twin Peaks: The Return arrived amidst Hollywood's nostalgia boom, but Lynch defied expectations by subverting the revival trope. He chose not to bring back the original series' key characters in a conventional way, maintaining his signature unpredictability. When Lynch did adhere to Hollywood norms with Dune, the result was a notorious misfire, yet unmistakably his. His struggles with the project are detailed in Max Evry's book, A Masterpiece in Disarray. Despite the film's commercial failure, it's peppered with Lynch's unique imagery, like the infamous cat/rat milking machine.
Lynch's films are not just bizarre; they often possess a haunting beauty. The Elephant Man, his closest brush with mainstream acclaim, is a poignant and touching film set against the backdrop of a cruel era. It showcases the humanity of John Merrick in a world that mistreats him, embodying the essence of what it means to be "Lynchian."
Attempting to categorize Lynch's work within traditional genres or tropes is futile, yet his films are instantly recognizable. His dark, funny, surreal, and genuinely strange storytelling organically weaves together elements that defy easy classification. Lynch's obsession with the hidden world beneath our own, often revealed through literal or metaphorical curtains, is a hallmark of his style.
Blue Velvet exemplifies this, blending a classic noir narrative with a descent into a hidden, sinister world beneath the idyllic surface of mid-century Americana. The film's influences, including a nod to The Wizard of Oz, create a surreal atmosphere unique to Lynch's vision.
AnswerSee ResultsAs cinema evolved, filmmakers drew inspiration from their predecessors. Lynch, who initially drew from other artists, eventually became an influence himself. The term "Lynchian" signifies his lasting impact, suggesting we may never see another artist quite like him.
In 2024's I Saw The TV Glow, a scene at a bar with floating camera work, theatrical costumes, and out-of-sync strobing lights evokes a distinctly Lynchian atmosphere. Jane Schoenbrun's film, inspired by Twin Peaks, exemplifies how Lynch's influence permeates contemporary cinema. Filmmakers like Yorgos Lanthimos, Robert Eggers, Ari Aster, David Robert Mitchell, Emerald Fennell, Richard Kelly, Rose Glass, Quentin Tarantino, and Denis Villeneuve all owe a debt to Lynch's surreal vision.
