My Year of David Lynch

A tribute to a true artist

Every year, I like to pick a director and go through their filmography. Often, I’ll do this project in anticipation of an upcoming release. For instance, ahead of Killers of the Flower Moon, I made a good dent in Scorsese’s filmography. Other times, I pick the director because I’ve seen a film I loved and want to go deeper; this was the case after I saw Villeneuve’s Dune.

And sometimes, like in the case of David Lynch, it just happens naturally.

In 2024, I decided to watch the Lynch films I hadn’t seen before. Now, it wasn’t my first time diving into his work. Like a lot of people, I first encountered Lynch because I was a weird kid in high school and my weird friend wanted to show me a weird movie. That movie was Wild At Heart.

While I loved the explosive energy of the film, it took another decade for me to go deeper into his work. During the pandemic, my partner showed me Blue Velvet, his personal favourite, but it frightened and upset me. Then, one day, I stumbled upon a bootleg copy of Mulholland Drive at a garage sale. I bought it for a few dollars and took it home. Something clicked. SILENCIO! I’d found my favourite director of all time.

Last year, I started to work through his filmography. In February, I watched his version of Dune, which I found campy but paled in comparison to the recent adaptation. In March, I watched Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me, which I knew would destroy me and did. In April, I watched Inland Empire, which made Mulholland Drive look like a completely normal movie. In May, I watched Lost Highway and got extremely scared. That same month, I watched Eraserhead and immediately locked into how it was all about parenthood.

With each film, I gained new insight into Lynch and his work. From Fire Walk with Me, I saw the tremendous amount of empathy Lynch gave to teenage protagonist Laura Palmer even as she faced horrific abuse. From Inland Empire, I felt what it meant to just create something, even if it did not always make sense. In every film, I sensed an astonishing spirit of artistry, even if I didn’t always fully understand the plot or even enjoy the movie.

It took me until August to get to the last film on my list: The Elephant Man. Released in 1980, I didn’t know much about it other than that it starred Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt. Based on the real-life story of John Merrick, the film is a black-and-white period piece set in 19th-century London. I was so taken by this film that I cried for most of the third act. Once again, I sensed the tremendous amount of empathy that Lynch gave to a character who was incredibly maligned.

In the fall, after finishing his films, it was time to move on to Lynch’s magnum opus: the original prestige TV miniseries, Twin Peaks. But it wasn’t my first time encountering the kooky inhabitants of a logging town in the PNW. As my friend Amanda recently reminded me, I watched the first season of Twin Peaks because it was recommended by the now-defunct teen girl culture website Rookie Mag and was readily available on Netflix in the early 2010s.

When I watched the show as a teenager, I thought it was cool and weird, but nothing beyond that. I didn’t connect with it emotionally until I watched it again as an adult. The darkness of the show hit me beyond words (shout out to Ray Wise for giving one of the most devastating TV performances ever). And it turns out that Season Two, often blown off as being a severe dip in quality, is actually quite good!

In December, my partner and I happened to take a trip to Seattle. With some friends, we drove up to North Bend to visit locations where they shot exteriors for the show. We had cherry pie at Twedes Cafe, shown in the series as the Double R Diner. We went inside the Sheriff’s office, now a driving school. We walked across Ronnette’s bridge, which was covered in Twin Peaks and Lynch-related graffiti. And we stood across from Snoqualmie Falls, watching the two currents of water merge into one.

Now, it’s 2025. I’ve only just started watching Twin Peaks: The Return (I haven’t even gotten to the infamous Episode Eight yet). The 2017 series revival is considered by some to be Lynch’s greatest achievement. But now, somehow, he is gone.

Diving deep into Lynch’s work over the last year has been one of the most creatively engaging and enriching activities of my life. Lynch’s films are not passive watches. They demand your attention and require multiple viewings before they fully reveal themselves. I’ve now seen Blue Velvet three times, but it took me that many tries to understand its genius.

In Lynch’s work, there is always darkness. His films often contain moments of extreme violence, in all manifestations. But, there is also always light. There might be monsters outside of the diner, but there is also coffee and cherry pie waiting inside.

I’m so grateful to David Lynch for creating the work that he did. But even bigger than the work he left us with, which also includes so much music and visual art, I’m forever changed by his approach to creativity and life.

There’s a strange video of Lynch being interviewed by a French TV station that I think about frequently. Lynch is shirtless, covered in mud. He appears to be making industrial music inside of a cave. The interviewer asks, “Music. Internet. A lot of art. Doesn’t that take you away from movies?” Lynch smiles, then replies, “One thing always feeds another.”

In other words, to repeat another Lynch-ism: keep your eye on the donut, not the hole. Don’t think about if you’re doing it wrong, whether that’s making art or simply life. Don’t worry about it. Just go for it. You’re always on the right path.

Thank you for your work David. You’re with the angels now.