David Lynch, the multi-hyphenate film director and artist known for both cult and traditional classics, from Blue velvet (1986) to Mulholland Drive (2001), died at the age of 78. His death was confirmed by his family Facebook today, January 16. Last year, Lynch announced that he had been diagnosed with emphysema and was unable to work or leave his home.
Despite Lynch’s health, the overwhelming initial reaction to the news of his death was one of shock. Lynch is widely regarded as an institution in his own right – primarily of film, but also of painting, music, photography and pop entertainment in general – so that his presence was completely integrated with the cultural landscape. His departure leaves a void as eerie as… one of many disturbing scenes Twin peaks (1990–2017), Lynch’s television debut.
Born in 1946 in Missoula, Montana, Lynch spent his childhood constantly moving with his family due to his father’s job with the U.S. Department of Agriculture, which gave him panoramic views of the country that suited the way his work later crossed. many parts of it. He began making art at an early age and was briefly enrolled at the School of the Museum of Fine Arts, Boston, before dropping out at short notice. Lynch began making short films in his 20s, but eventually realized that filmmaking was his true pursuit, leading him to study at the American Film Institute Conservatory in the 1970s. His time there culminated in Eraserhead (1977), which gradually became a cult hit and accelerated the rest of his career.
Lynch’s work was so influential that it became unnoticeable to the untrained eye, deeply woven into the tropes and aesthetics of cinematic horror, surrealism and melodrama. He was one of the few filmmakers whose name became a name adjective; possibly even its own subgenre. His obituary could be filled with nothing more than a list of iconic images that come to mind when you think of the term “Lynchian”: the most terrifying swaddled newborn ever conceived, lying on the floor in Eraserhead; Dean Stockwell, illuminated by a light under his chin, sang into Roy Orbison Blue velvet; Laura Dern runs out of the darkness towards the camera, first in slow motion and then in at alarming speed Home Empire (2006).
Lynch cemented his reputation as the foremost magician of the uncanny through his prolific work as an artist, which even preceded his film career. His paintings and sculptures radiate a disturbing whimsicality, full of humanoid figures of uncomfortably unnatural proportions, muted colors that feel as if they have been dried by blood. They are often made from mixed media, reinforcing the sense that they are not created with, but rather emerge from, the gunk of everyday life. That quality enhances the disturbing tactility of the paintings, which read less like flat images and more like windows into dark worlds that you can find yourself in if you’re not careful.
Lynch’s career and abilities were so extensive that even a full-blown tribute to the strange and uncanny within them would sell him short. Less fantastic films like The elephant man (1980) and The honest story (1999) are built primarily around two-handed scenes between their protagonists and people they persuade to open up about their daily hardships. Firewalk with me (1992) is not only a groundbreaking horror film, but also a poignantly empathetic portrayal of a teenage girl in a psychological crucible.
The wider Twin peaks Enterprise is awash with beautiful moments of emotional rawness and intimacy between its characters. Commentators largely agree that the show’s singular strangeness changed the course of television. Yet one scene in particular circulating on social media following Lynch’s death is the simple moment when Major Garland Briggs tells his son Bobby: how much he loves him.
In another popular clip, Lynch himself plays his character Gordon Cole Twin peaks, in an episode of the show’s 2017 revival how he told his colleagues that they had to accept their transgender colleague. “Restore their hearts or die!” has since become a slogan for foreign rights – just one aspect from Lynch significant queer fan base.
Lynch’s performance as Cole doesn’t feel all that different from the persona he conveyed in his public appearances, his often viral tweets, or his prolific YouTube channel (on which he, among other things, continued his practice of providing weather reports). His nasal voice and hesitant delivery made him instantly recognizable and endearing to many, elevating him to living meme status in his final years. He was one of the few creative individuals who seemed as if he could have stepped straight out of one of his own works (or as Dennis Lim put it: a man from another place). The world is a little less strange now without him, and poorer for it.
