INLAND EMPIRE (2007)

Directed By: David Lynch
Cast: Laura Dern, Justin Theroux, Jeremy Irons, Harry Dean Stanton, Karolina Gruszka, Jan Hench, Krzysztof Majchrzak, Grace Zabriskie, Diane Ladd, Julia Ormond, Ian Abercrombie, Naomi Watts
Released 09/03/2007

Upon leaving the cinema having just watched Inland Empire I was perplexed, confused, even a little bit dumbfounded. What I could say for sure was that I had just witnessed a master director create a masterpiece. And a performance from Laura Dern which deserved every award going, especially an Oscar.

But what’s it all about? Well, Laura Dern plays an actress who has just been cast in an upcoming film alongside Justin Theroux. The director of the film is portrayed by Jeremy Irons. After a strange visit from a new neighbour (Grace Zabriskie), things start to become a little blurred and the weirdness factor begins to crank up. Firstly, the director reveals that this is a remake of a doomed polish film entitled 47, where the leads were killed. This seems to disrupt Nikki (Laura Dern) and it’s not long before the film and Nikki’s life seem to be merging into one. Scenes which seem to be played out as real life emerge as scenes being shot for the film. You could argue that Nikki’s life begins to mirror that of the film but we’re never given any guarantees that Nikki’s life begins mimicking that of Susan or if it’s just the scenes being paid out. This is emphasised by the fact that Nikki seems to start living on the set, but again there are o indicators that this is the reality. Thrown in are a collection of scenes involving prostitutes in the flat with Laura Dern as either Nikki or Susan, the character she’s playing, and the brain begins to hurt if you try and figure it all out. It’s around this stage that the film loses all narrative comprehension and instead descends into a surreal Lynchian world were the images we see are untrustworthy and more importantly never given any real context. One such example includes the scenes when we cut to Poland, the location of the original story and film. Laura Dern plays a hard nosed, violence prone prostitute, I think, in a series of scenes which ultimately end with us returning to her being filmed. Add into this a surreal sitcom complete with canned laughter starring people dressed in rabbit costumes and your well on your way to a weird surrealism previously unachieved by Lynch.

This film is certainly Lynch’s most surreal venture in the filmmaking world and extends the themes, ideas and structure of Mulholland Drive to unimaginable new heights. Some audiences, even Lynch fans, may find this delves a little too deeply into surrealism and narrative destruction. Add to this Lynch’s decision to use an out dated DV technology to shoot his film, which embroils the audience in the film but also serves to blur the distinctions between what’s the film and what’s reality and gives the film a dark, dirty atmosphere which lends itself toward the nightmarish concept of the film. You could describe Lynch’s world as dreams with dreams with wormholes and portals to other parallel dimensions, and there seems to be a few such instances here. During a script reading a noise is heard and then possibly a shadow seen, later we return to the scene and see Nikki as the shadow watching them. What makes scenes like this all the more surreal and incomprehensible is that Nikki herself seems unable to comprehend what she is seeing, and we again in turn can not work out if she is shocked to be seeing herself, or shocked because she has the memory of what she’s seeing. At other times she is completely immersed in the character she plays, in the particular subplot set in Poland, and thus the film begins to form some context or narrative until of course Lynch switches things and your perceptions are once again catapulted off into a world of strange sequences which once again break down the convention of narrative.

This a pure cinema unseen for many years and the film far surpasses the masterpiece that is Mulholland Drive in terms of cinematic purity and artistic creativity. Lynch effectively breaks down the conventions of narrative cinema; that which has been held so dear for nearly a hundred years and rebuilds it in a way which is atypically Lynchian, educating us along the way. Lynch prepares us for what’s to come, invites us to pay attention and question every frame that flicks up there upon the screen. And what’s more he handles it all with such a deft touch that it’s hard to imagine a filmmaker in the same league as Lynch after this. Most proficient filmmakers or even masters of cinema would have spoon fed its audience afraid of losing them along the way. Lynch wants his audience lost because then, when they emerge from the dark, comfort of the auditorium they’re presented with a conundrum to which there may be no answer.

One of the films greatest achievements is delivered by Laura Dern’s engrossing, captivating performance on screen. For every scene she seems to be channelling a different variation on her character. It’s the kind of character that could have destroyed the film had it not be handled so superbly. How Laura Dern failed to attract Oscar recognition is a conundrum more confusing that the film. She steadies the ship and guides us on this emotional, provocative journey from the comfortable life as an established actress to a woman on the brink of insanity. And more importantly she never once gives us an indication as what she is really thinking. One striking scene sees her just sitting against the wall whilst a collection of sassy prostitutes sit around chatting. The expression on her face creates mixed feelings. Is she struggling to understand where she is or what’s happening to her or is she instead a woman who is weak, vulnerable and feeling victimized or is she channelling something entirely different. The fact that she seems almost paralysed and forced to endure the conversation unfolding in front of her does nothing to shed light on the scene. You just can’t tell. It’s the kind of performance that lacks that definition which cements most performances; it’s the kind of character that should fail. And yet in the hands of an underrated, underused actress like Laura Dern, is the most mesmerising of performances. In recent years Hollywood has produced a collection of so called talented women, some of whom I’m a huge fan of. Nicole Kidman, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Naomi Watts and Renee Zellweger are just some, but none of them could muster a performance this engaging and purely cinematic.

Ultimately this is a film that will not leave you with a defined understanding of narrative, nor will it provoke a true and engaging theme with which to define your opinion of the film. Instead INLAND EMPIRE is a film about ideas, Lynch’s and yours, the audience. It’s a film which challenges you to question what we perceive as cinema, what we perceive as performance and what we perceive of narrative. Many critics have argued in the past that films without clearly defined narratives fail, and many will lambaste this film for just that. In the most part there entirely right. But this is narrow-minded, comfortable position from which to judge the film. Rarely is cinema questioned for its definitions. Rarely does a filmmaker question what a film is. Is this pure cinema? A film which is as much about the process of making a film, both thematically and literally as it is about what audiences perceive film to be. Lynch even subverts himself and genre convention by attaching a beautiful and truly Lynchian musical number over the final credits. What bearing does this have over the film, what does the rabbit sitcom suggest about the film, and what ultimately is the films central theme.

Well, even after the final reel has played out and we come back to the filming, feeling as if we can finally reveal some answers the film shoots off into more mind numbing subplots including scenes which are played out, then watched back by Nikki on the cinema screen she has just walked in on. It’s as if Lynch wanted to show us the deep psychological, surreal effect writing and directing a film can have on the psyche. Almost as if this is Lynch’s most autobiographical film to date. And yet at the same time it could be about something completely different. We just don’t know.

By far the greatest film of recent times, it eclipses anything which aspires to attain this level of artistry and perfection. Lynch has engaged in what defines cinema but has done so without using any conventions which might betray his exploration. If a film this year surpasses INLAND EMPIRE for quality then I’ll dress up as a bunny and film my own sitcom, canned laughter and all.