Why Muholland Drive Resonates

When I first saw David Lynch's Muholland Drive, I was so enthralled that I watched it 2 more times in the same weekend. It was a movie that was filled with theatrical genius, cryptic storylines, and ultimately a modern day Greek (LA) tragedy. Maybe more importantly it was a story that hit too close to home.

Like Dianne/Betty, I was the midwestern ingenue who had moved to Los Angeles hoping for bigger things. I was the show stealer in the 2 high school musicals I did. I was the one who became high off accolades and praise. I was the one in college who felt more euphoria after nailing a scene in acting class than any Grateful Dead stoner session could ever provide.  I was Betty who had won the Jittberbug contest and was ready to show the world my talents. Deep down however I was insecure, unsure, and moving to the West Coast to get away - to find a happiness that was missing at home.

Like Betty, I came into an inheritence while in LA and squandered it. Not on a murder hit, but on the dot.com bust. Like Betty, I became guilt ridden with infidelity during relationships -  pursued by similar furies as Betty. In LA i was lonely, disconnected, and unrooted. Looking for my Camilla in massage parlors and one night stands.

Lynch's Muholland Drive was the sad LA I knew and  it somehow validated my experience - which was reassuring. The film reminded me that I was not alone in this experience. That there was something greater at work here. It was LA itself. For the wrong person, like me and Betty perhaps, LA reveals and enacts it's insidious dark side. Like a venus fly trap, the city waits for its unsuspecting prey and then pounces. Engulfing the lost and innocent in its maws. LA breeds on insecurity and shits out or destroys those with too much of it.

I was reading a few of the critics takes on their explanations of the film and was appalled at how intellectually dismissive they were of "reading" too much into it. One of the great joys of the film is the very intellectual challenge it provides to the viewer. Lynch's incorporation of the classic Greek tragedian tropes like Pandora's Box, the Furies, and death personified were fresh and modern. His exploration of the fine line between fantasy and reality is perfect for a setting like LA -  where film itself is nothing more than an illusion imbedded in the "reality" of a scene. Where the fantasy of hopes and dreams become mired in the reality of disappointment and struggle.

Lynch's LA is not the one we see at Oscar time. It is the LA that draws the innocence of middle America to its shores. It is the Siren singing that beautiful song of fame and fortune, that irresistible magnetic pull of magazine covers and red carpet walks. All of this, save for a small few, is just an illusion masking the jagged rocks of shipwrecked dreams and delayed success.

Ode to Cardiff

It's been 9 years that I have lived beside the Cardiff shores, breathing in pure sea air, sucking onshore flow, basking in balmy, palm tree breezes that make you think you somehow traveled to a tropical island. My life has been here...for 9 years. Residing in a one bed apartment, with a yard, and a view of blue sky and full moons. I will miss much about you Cardiff, but it is time and I must leave for now. But I will be back.

Things I will miss about Cardiff...
Walking to...
Pipes and the veggie scrambler with egg beaters
Shanty with the picture of the melancholy artist on the wall who reminds me of me
Seaside market - need I say more, my second home
Starbucks and the usual crowd
Walks to Glen Park with Paloma and its beautiful trees
Bull Taco and my special order California burrito with egg whites and the best ocean view dining in town
Rimels for a cool beer and a good look at the latest live catch
East Coast Pizza and the Artichoke pizza slices with Marinara and the dude like banter on a Saturday afternoon
Las Olas margaritas
Ki's quiet time reading with coffee in hand and looking out upon jumping dolphins
The Cardiff library
The Cardiff Post office

The beach...
Where I learned to surf that left at Tippers and exalted at my first stoke of going down the lane.
My naivety of braving five foot swell and getting pummeled as a beginner
My recent sunset summer walks alone down to Swamis and back
Ooooh the cool red tide which made the water streak with flourescent lightning
Walks on the beach with a pregnant wife
Walks on the beach with a newborn
Sand playing with a toddler
Wave dipping with a squealing Paloma
Walks with a packed stroller like I was a gypsy through the campground with families happy
Walks through the little garden that hugs the train tracks

I will miss the sound of the train
The full moons that streak through my front window at 3 in the morning, the calming glow of that moon shining in the cityless lights of a dark ocean sky
The lazy, balmy beautiful, quiet beach weekends where Cardiff just wants to lull you to sleep
The sound of the waves crashing in the distance when the swell is high and the wind is blowing onshore

Cardiff is the shangri-la of San Diego. Where things are still like they used to be 50 years ago. Where things are still quaint, where there is no major thoroughfare traffic, where there are no sidewalks so everyone walks in the street, where everyone knows or recognizes everyone else. Where all you ever need in your life is 2 blocks away