Mulholland Drive

Mulholland Drive ★★★★★

This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.

This review may contain spoilers.

Reading left to right, naive Betty and mysterious Rita unlock the mysteries of their true identities, revealing Betty's naivety as a fantasy plastered over Diane's intense guilt and self-loathing; Betty is Diane's yearning for lost innocence, and Camilla was the whole that she broke into so many disjointed pieces.

Reading right to left, Betty and Rita (and isn't Rita the protagonist, doesn't she begin and end the first two hours, Betty dissolving into nothing much more abruptly than she does?) find each other but are still haunted by an ineffable sense not just of dread but of trauma. And together they concoct, or we concoct, the fantasy of Diane and Camilla, a straightforward, sordid tale of LA toxicity much more digestible than the incurable ills that afflict them. Saying 'I love you' is not the end of feeling hunted, or ostracised, or exploited, or lost; society is not done with you, your depression is not done with you— wouldn't the audience rather believe you were spurned, and unhappy, and went out in a blaze of horror and glory, rather than knowing you fell down mid-song and then never got up?

Reading any way you want— please do, and I'm not sure any other film will reward you more for it.

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