I’ve been on a Lynch kick the last two weeks and I finally figured out why I’m returning to his movies for the first time since college. His vision of surreal Americana is unsettlingly resonate right now. In Mulholland Drive Rita and Betty drift through opposing dreams, trying to find reality even as it pulls away from their grasp—all while the world around them is slowly corrupted by the byzantine machinations of powerful, debased men. It feels like the last two years of living in the U.S. of A.
No hay banda.