Leads us into our own strange need to untangle the spools of film and dream, fiction and truth, protective fantasy and traumatic reality. Lynch uses the twinkling lights and dazzling stars of superficial LA to warp us into a deeper, stranger surreality.
Billy Ray Cyrus as an amorous poolman punched by a mobster? David Lynch's commentary on independent filmmaking? Lesbian erotica as sad as it is exaggeratedly hot? Lynch's greatest puzzle box snaps together in sparse, bold, sexy and thrilling fashion.
A summation work at midpoint career, this visually menacing horror picture, which deconstructs Hollywood as the dream factory, continues to explore such Lynchian obsessions as good vs. evil and dreams vs. nightmares.