Originally published in DVD Guide, June 2005
(Little Bird Tango: magazine editor)
(Crazy Diamond: a pretentious online handle I used when I was young)
Little Bird Tango said: David Lynch himself once said that he didn’t like his films being analyzed psychologically. But in fact, many of his films, such as Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive, carry a distinctly Freudian psychological undertone.
Crazy Diamond said: His resistance to psychoanalysis is probably a kind of reverse psychology—or a defense mechanism. He projects a lot of himself into his films, but he’s also afraid of being analyzed, because analyzing his films means analyzing David Lynch himself.
Little Bird Tango said: Could you explain that in a little more detail?
Crazy Diamond said: People like to analyze novelists through their novels and painters through their paintings. In the same way, you can analyze a director through a film, especially when that film is largely a personal creation. That’s because psychology has a theory of projection: when the clues in an external stimulus are vague, people respond to stimuli with unclear meanings according to their own personalities.
For example, when you’re asked to imagine what an ambiguous inkblot represents, the result may reflect your attitudes, underlying motives, and inner conflicts. The creative process is likewise full of ambiguity and uncertainty, so an independently made film is a director’s inkblot. In Freud’s view, the unconscious is filled with instinct-based, pleasure-seeking desires, while consciousness represses the unconscious so that people can survive in the real world and keep their behavior in line with moral norms. In that sense, consciousness and the unconscious are opposed. The most basic human things in the unconscious are always trying to find a way out, and for Freud, art is essentially a transformed version of unconscious desires after they have been sublimated!
“A sense of art,” “aesthetic feeling,” and the “imagination” and “inspiration” so crucial to artistic creation are, to a great extent, products of the unconscious rather than the conscious mind. Artists, then, are often people with unusually powerful unconscious energies. Some artists indulge their unconscious, weakening their consciousness as much as possible and letting the unconscious take the lead. That’s the state in which they create. Li Bai wrote poetry drunk; Van Gogh painted in an almost frenzied state. I believe David Lynch is also someone with a very powerful unconscious. He writes scripts by “following his feelings.” When discussing the creation of Lost Highway, he said that he first had certain feelings, then used a plot to connect them.
Little Bird Tango said: That’s a good point. David Lynch doesn’t much like talking about his films in interviews either. He doesn’t like explaining them. He just gives you a key; where the keyhole is, you have to find out for yourself.
Crazy Diamond said: So the Freudian psychological undertones in Lynch’s films weren’t deliberately put there. Without intending to, he ended up confirming the theories of Freud, Jung, and others.
Little Bird Tango said: Still, how far a work of art ultimately reaches often depends on later explanation and analysis, even if our interpretation wasn’t the author’s original intention. Dream of the Red Chamber has many interpretations. It’s like a riddle—no one knows which answer is right—but people still can’t get enough of it. 3 years ago, you published your famous online reading of Mulholland Drive, but you said you didn’t understand Lost Highway. Now that you’ve watched the film again, do you understand what’s going on?
Crazy Diamond said: The biggest thing I got this time was finally understanding Lost Highway. I think Lost Highway, like Mulholland Drive, is a film about a nightmare. The first 3/4 of Mulholland Drive is a dream, and in Lost Highway, everything from when Fred becomes Pete until the end of the film is also a dream—or you could call it a fantasy. In both films, reality and nightmare merge just as the dream is about to end. In Mulholland Drive, for example, the film begins with a first-person perspective walking toward a bed, accompanied by heavy breathing, and then entering the dream. The scene at the Club Silencio begins blending dream and reality until someone knocks on the door and wakes the heroine. In Lost Highway, Fred enters the dream after getting a headache and taking medicine in prison—the transformation of his head represents entering the dream—and the final shot, in which his head transforms again, represents the dream’s end. From the appearance of the cabin in the desert onward, reality and dream become intertwined.
Seen this way, the film’s overall story is roughly as follows:
After he reaches the cabin by the highway, the creepy old man—really his own unconscious—appears and tells him that there is no Alice, only Renee. The dream is then completely taken over by a terrifying reality. What follows is half true and half false, but although it happens in a dream, the broad outline really did happen: Fred followed his wife to her tryst, then killed Andy and disposed of the body. He then returned to his apartment and rang the intercom, saying, “Andy is dead.” In fact, by this point he had become one with the creepy old man, representing the fear in his unconscious—along with perhaps a little conscience—and warning the real-world Fred. Finally, the police chase him along the highway. He has nowhere left to run, and his face begins to transform again, representing the nightmare’s awakening.
Little Bird Tango said: So the basic theme of the film is clear now.
Crazy Diamond said: Right. The film shows a killer’s fear and anxiety, his hallucinations, his beautiful dreams, and his nightmares. The reason it’s so obscure is that David Lynch isn’t exactly “honest” whether he’s filming reality or dreams. The reality contains a lot of imagination, while the dream eventually contains many things that really happened.
I think this interpretation is self-consistent, but we really can’t know what Lynch intended. Though Lynch keeps saying he doesn’t want people to psychoanalyze his films, he’s actually a great prankster. Some of his works aren’t all that complicated, but he seems to deliberately use very obscure language to express them. For example, the reality in Mulholland Drive is told out of chronological order. I always feel that after leaving the audience completely baffled, he sneaks off and enjoys himself.
Little Bird Tango said: As long as an interpretation of a film is self-consistent, it’s valid. Lynch himself described this film as a “spiritual reverie.” The film also has another title, Lost Highway. What role does the highway play? Is it an image, or an escape route?
Crazy Diamond said: Hmm… I haven’t thought about that. It does seem possible.
Little Bird Tango said: It makes me think of Mulholland Drive, which also begins on a road. Could the highway be the entrance to the dream? Ha-ha.
Crazy Diamond said: Yes, that’s possible. Lynch’s films do contain images that represent the interface—or bridge—between consciousness and the unconscious. In other words, the entrance to the dream you mentioned.
But in his films, that image is usually a “hole.” Holes, containers, and houses generally symbolize the female reproductive organs and the womb. These images all appear in the 3 films: the ear canal in Blue Velvet, the bottomless blue box in Mulholland Drive, and the burning house in Lost Highway. But these images don’t seem to symbolize that meaning so much as “the entrance between two worlds”—something Lynch said himself in the Blue Velvet featurette. In Blue Velvet, it represents the entrance between the world of sunlight and the world of darkness and deformity. In Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive, it represents the entrance between the worlds of consciousness and the unconscious—or reality and nightmare. Other symbols with similar meanings include the dark staircase in Blue Velvet and the bottomless corridor in Lost Highway. I don’t know whether Lynch arranged all this intentionally or whether it was a coincidence. Of course, the highway seems to carry this meaning too.
Or perhaps it’s an “escape route” from reality. One of the themes shared by Mulholland Drive and Lost Highway is that the beautiful dream of escaping reality eventually turns into a nightmare.
Little Bird Tango said: A highway at night is more open-ended than a “hole,” because it leads toward the unknown by its very nature.
Crazy Diamond said: Yes. It seems to hint at “the fear of the unknown.”
Little Bird Tango said: From Lost Highway in 1997 to Mulholland Drive in 2001, the two films have similarities, but what changed?
Crazy Diamond said: Mulholland Drive was made; Lost Highway was played.
Typical David Lynch films have always been known for their strange, gloomy, bewildering images. In Lost Highway and Mulholland Drive, he found the perfect vehicle for expressing those images: dreams. That really is very clever. In Freud’s theory, dreams are basically a stage on which the unconscious gets to throw its weight around.
But Lost Highway is clearly more uninhibited than Mulholland Drive. Mulholland Drive is relatively restrained and conventional in its technique—at least in the first half—and it seems Lynch compromised with reality just a tiny bit. I think Lost Highway was filmed entirely by following his own feelings, which is why it’s the work that best represents him.
Little Bird Tango said: Mulholland Drive is Lost Highway after domestication. Judging from your earlier, painstaking analysis of Mulholland Drive, it really isn’t without clues; you could even call its structure rigorous.
Crazy Diamond said: Yes. On the one hand, you can understand Mulholland Drive as a domesticated Lost Highway. But if you turn it around and think about it, Mulholland Drive seems more ambitious. Lost Highway confuses the audience from the very beginning, while most viewers think they understand the first 3/4 of Mulholland Drive before discovering that Lynch has been playing them. Looking back, you realize that every seemingly ordinary detail conceals a mystery. So Lynch is someone who really enjoys setting traps for his audience.
Little Bird Tango said: What does the mysterious man in Lost Highway represent?
Crazy Diamond said: For now, let’s call him the creepy old man.
The terrifying old man is a hallucination formed by Freddy’s unconscious. He is really the fear and unease in Freddy’s heart, along with his conscience, constantly reminding him that he has killed people—or stirring up his anxiety. In dreams, the terrifying old man plays a role that makes Freddy think of reality; his function is still to remind Freddy that he has killed. In reality, the old man is less like a hallucination Freddy sees than another personality of Freddy’s. Multiple personality is an extremely rare disorder in psychology and clinical practice. Each personality is independent, with its own memories, attitudes, and behavior. One personality might be introverted, cautious, and conservative, while another is extroverted, open, and impulsive. Each personality appears during a particular stretch of the individual’s life or in certain situations. Multiple personality has never been fully confirmed in psychology, because some psychologists believe reports of it are the result of hypnosis and suggestion. Still, it makes good material for films, such as Fight Club and The Machinist; both films may even have been inspired by Lost Highway. In the reality-based part of Lost Highway, assuming the mysterious videotape is not imaginary, then it was shot by the “old man” personality—that is, by Freddy himself—because Freddy himself is never captured while the camera is moving. When the second tape shows him lying in bed, the figure’s posture is extremely strange, and it seems to have no head, so it may be a mannequin Freddy placed there—or simply a piece of clothing.
Also, according to Jung’s theory of archetypes, the terrifying old man is an archetype of a “shadow” in Freddy’s mind.
The shadow archetype is simply the repressed, unshown part of the human psyche. When people repress their shadows, they lose vitality while danger lurks beneath the surface—Freddy’s typical condition. Once the shadow is repressed too heavily, it may emerge in destructive form. Religious wars are a classic example. Jung said that people in Christian countries demanded goodness from themselves and fiercely repressed their animal shadows; given enough time, the shadow would strike back. If the shadow is repressed too heavily, it appears in dreams, imagination, or fantasy as dangerous and brutal figures—for example, “a dangerous and mysterious man in black.” People who emerge from the shadow in dreams are almost always dressed in black. The mysterious old man is a classic example of a repressed shadow striking back.
Little Bird Tango said: What you’re saying makes me think of another Lynch film, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me. The murdered female lead is a young, beautiful prom queen, but she has a dark past no one knows about. And Dorothy in Blue Velvet—that seems to fit too.
Crazy Diamond said: Yes. These theories of repression and the unconscious from Freud and Jung are broadly applicable. You could use them to explain all sorts of things—which is both what makes them fascinating and what gives people ammunition for criticizing them.
Little Bird Tango said: Still, Blue Velvet isn’t quite like the two nightmare films. One interpretation is that it expresses sexual anxiety.
Crazy Diamond said: Blue Velvet really is a very unusual film. David Lynch seems to have concentrated every abnormal sexual behavior he could think of in one person, Frank: fetishism, asphyxiophilia, sexual abuse, regression, and the Oedipus complex.
Although people talk about Blue Velvet as a film about sexual abuse, Frank’s behavior is not actually the typical kind of sexual abuse. Frank’s violence is rooted in his personality: generalized, hysterical violence, rather than violence confined to sexual behavior. As far as I know, the vast majority of people who practice sadomasochism have no tendency toward violence in real life; they simply bring a ritual into sexual behavior, and that ritual is not necessarily genuinely violent—it may only symbolize violence. Frank’s inhaling helium can be seen as a form of asphyxiophilia, classified in some systems as a masochistic tendency. Inhaling a large amount of helium can produce mild hallucinations. For Frank, inhaling helium is basically like taking drugs: it blurs his consciousness and creates hallucinatory sensations. The moment he inhales it, his vicious side comes out. Judging from the behind-the-scenes footage, David Lynch may really have had the actor playing Frank inhale helium. Helium has an atomic mass of ２, while nitrogen has an atomic mass of 28, so the voice changes, making the character even eerier (though this effect doesn’t seem very noticeable in the film).
Little Bird Tango said: What does “regression” mean?
Crazy Diamond said: “Regression” is a psychological defense mechanism emphasized by Freud, one of the ways people cope with frustration and anxiety to gain a sense of safety. It means returning to an early childhood level and displaying immature behavior. For example, when a man faces a midlife crisis and fears growing old and dying, he may regress to adolescence: becoming irresponsible, driving recklessly, dating women, or even eating baby food. Frank calling himself “baby” is probably another regressive behavior aimed at avoiding reality anxiety. The Oedipus complex: Freud believed everyone has one. During some stage of psychosexual development, most people transfer their love for their mother elsewhere and gradually mature psychosexually. Frank seems never to have passed through that stage; his psychosexuality appears frozen at one point—in other words, fixation has occurred. Freud believed psychosexual development broadly passes through the oral, anal, phallic, latency, and genital stages. Frank seems fixated at the phallic stage, and his behavior also shows fixation at the oral stage, such as sucking on blue velvet.
Little Bird Tango said: Frank is a fairly transparent character in the film, whereas Dorothy is actually the key to the story. Dorothy first appears as a victim. But later, she turns out to be someone who enjoys being abused.
Crazy Diamond said: Yes. She doesn’t enjoy Frank’s abuse, but she wants other people to abuse her.
Little Bird Tango said: The actress said Dorothy puts on a mask because she’s afraid to see what she really looks like. She feels ashamed; she hates herself.
Crazy Diamond said: Maybe.
Helene Deutsch once argued that women are naturally masochistic—narcissistic and passive—and that this is a fundamental female trait. Her main point was that women can feel sexual arousal only when dominated by men, and that this process therefore makes them masochistic. (Feminist organizations have often attacked this view.)
Little Bird Tango said: A lot of people also find David Lynch impossible to understand but still love him. How does he move ordinary viewers—especially young people?
Crazy Diamond said: Hmm, resonance with the unconscious. Many images in his films also exist in people’s own unconscious. We can’t directly express them, or even become aware of them, but Lynch brings these indescribable things vividly to life. That’s rare—and it makes it easy for some people to resonate with them.
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This article was originally published in DVD Guide magazine (June 2005)
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