Considering Club Silencio: A Tribute To David Lynch

This is a link to the video uploaded to the DotSlashFilm YouTube channel.

Below is the original script used for the video. It is probably very different from what was actually recorded:

Electricity buzzes as we indicate there will be spoilers for all of Mulholland Drive and trivial [won’t ruin th enjoyment of] spoilers for Pulp Fiction and Inglorious Basterds and Eraserhead

I was recently graced with the opportunity to watch Mulholland Drive in the theater as a local cinema was paying tribute to the creative life of David Lynch by showing his films on their largest screen. Having not seen Mulholland Drive in this manner paired with the fact I hadn’t watched it since Lynch’s passing, I viewed it metaphorically and literally in a new light.

This film has been analyzed forwards, backwards, and inside out (cornpone flicks fantastic edition), so I won’t rehash what’s already been done by minds more marbled than mine.

I exclusively want to speak on the Club Silencio scene and a brief few frames from the third diner scene.

Club Silencio depicts acts the authenticity of which are uncertain. They could be occurring “live” before our eyes or they could be previously recorded and we are watching actors mimic the source of the sounds we are hearing. * Trumpeteer stops trumpeting *

But, what does it mean? As with anything Lynchian, who can be certain? That being said, watching it after the death of the great artist, its mystery felt reconstituted.

Perhaps, in the context of the film’s story, Silencio is a nightmare within a nightmare reminding “Betty” that, no matter her intentions, in the modern world everything will always be remembered, including her implied crimes. No amount of regret or familiarity with Rita will change what she did, and soon everyone will know it. But, re-watching the scene with Lynch’s passing in mind, it felt like it was a commentary on art itself – the artist leaves a piece of him or herself behind in every production of their craft. And, if those pieces are electronically preserved, then, even in death your song can be heard.

The script for Mulholland Drive itself (at least, the version I found online) not only doesn’t have any reference to Club Silencio, but, in fact, will come as a shock to fans of the revelations related to the dream-state subplot. What’s on the page is in stark contrast to what’s on the screen.

The story of why Club Silencio was filmed is covered elsewhere online, however its inclusion in the final edit – and its placement – should not be mistaken for an afterthought.

Before finishing this point, allow me to emphasize why I focused so heavily on Club Silencio by referencing a different scene. Something else I noticed on the big screen was that when Betty is finalizing the blue key crime, she has underarm hair. And, before you discount that as a personal choice by Naomi Watts unintentionally caught on camera while wearing a sleeveless shirt, the coital imagery leading up to this moment (which I can’t show without additional editing of the naughty bits) show Betty’s grooming choices adhere to the well-known, Hollywood standard. It could be a continuity error or an accident, of course, but, in the moment, it felt like a deliberately, ever-so-subtle indication of the relinquishment of care. Betty is no longer concerned with what anyone thinks about her and has given up on keeping with Hollywood’s beauty standards after Rita left her – for a man, no less. In fact, the only thing she cares about in this moment is carrying out the blue key crime at the cost of absolutely everything she’s been given, despite the glaring implied regret Betty feels as soon as she receives the key itself, indicating the act has been carried out. Betty was given beauty, money, love, a free home in the city of her dreams, and hard-to-acquire work in a notoriously competitve field by her friend and occasional lover, Camilla Rhodes. * Dream place clip *

Everything in the frame, in focus or otherwise, is fair game for analysis in a Lynch film.

Returning to Club Silencio: Watching an artist appear to die while performing their craft only to continue to hear her song, fully preserved, was a surprinsingly emotional experience viewing it so soon after the death of the film’s writer/director – a new take on an old scene and a perhaps ironic new look at the concept of a fresh start.

One thing David Lynch never failed to do was to take you somewhere that forced you to digest what you experienced. There are multiple ways to tell a story. Some focus on the telling of the story itself in a way that guides the observer, like the clicking tracks of a theme park ride, through the exact series of events required to convey what the artist had in mind. Others want to leave the viewer with a questionable experience that can be personally resolved later.

Cut to Tarantino explaining why he didn’t explain the briefcase or Aldo Raine’s rope burn

Lynch’s films weren’t easy-to-follow, they were self-guided tours. A stroll through an ephemeral museum of metaphor and implication. Who knows what Lynch was trying to say, but I for one am glad that, even in death, we still get to hear him say it.

Continue to hear the Club Silencio song and see the singer die

The buzz of electricity as we say goodbye and hear “In Heaven, everything is fine”