The Short Films of David Lynch is a fascinating interview with the master of peculiar oddities and ingenious film making himself. Presented in monochrome, we watch and listen to Lynch himself discussing his foray into film making, as we’re given a taste of his first works and a glimpse of characteristics that would forever identify his films.
Within the interview itself, Lynch candidly talks about his own fears and lack of confidence in the work he was doing. His lack of self-belief turns out to be unfounded, as a case of luck and opportunity present themselves which help shape Lynch’s creative mind and his ability to transfer his skills as an animator and artist into feature films. At the very least it confirmed in my mind that Lynch is an artist turned director, which explains the abstract and symbolic nature of his work, coupled with the multi-layered depth which fascinates his fans and film viewers alike.
The films consist of:
Six Men Getting Sick (Six Times) (1966) – 4 minutes
The first film of the set. It was odd to watch the first time, but after the second loop, I was strangely drawn and fascinated by this early piece of Lynchian work. You can call it pretentious art, and you may not be completely wrong. However, there is more happening on screen than meets the eye.
Much of the bulk of this four minute short consists of a looping 1 minute film, repeated four times. We see crude animated images of four figures at the top, with abstract stomachs fill up with red liquid, causing the six figures to throw up down the screen; all against the backdrop sound of a wailing siren.
As an example of his first film, Lynch comments about the film are interesting to hear. It was designed to be projected on a sculpture, but he was disappointed at the expense of the film, in particular, thinking it would spell the end of his film making. It turns out he won first prize in the contest that he entered with the film, attracting the attention of someone who wanted Lynch to create a unique film for him in the same style.
Lynch’s first real opportunity at making money arrived, which allowed him to make his second short, The Alphabet for the client.
The Alphabet (1968) – 4 minutes
Filmed using a camera he purchased with the very money he was given for this film, The Alphabet is again a bed of symbolism and abstract art. His first films echo the work of that of a student, which Lynch essentially was at the time.
His inspiration behind this feature was his niece. It’s intriguing to learn that even then, Lynch could take a simple idea and turn it on its head, creating something truly amazing. The film revolves around a girl’s nightmare (played by his wife Peggy Lynch) of the alphabet. Using a mixture of animation, and for the first time, live action, we’re presented with perhaps some of his darkest work. The crisply shot, yet visually disturbing images are mind-boggling to watch as you begin to interpret what the film is attempting to represent. Some of the symbolism is later used in other Lynch films, not just in his shorts but full length, feature films.
The Alphabet is one of my favourite films on the set, as it gives a creepy, sinister feel to something so innocent as The Alphabet (itself a metaphor). Some of the crude animation makes its appearance here too, but in more metaphorical form. It’s a film that seem to echo the progression of female maturity, from childhood into adulthood but with a distinct Lynch take. The direction, the use of dark and light is something that Lynch takes with him through his entire work. Graphic imagery of what a woman goes through during the age of puberty is stark and disturbing, but engrossing to watch.
The Grandmother (1970) – 33 minutes
A stunning piece of work, and without question much what is displayed here we see continued through his modern day films such as Mulholland Drive, Lost Highway and the like. A rather strange tale about childhood, parenthood, the desire for love and protection. There are obvious themes about sex, birth, rejection and love. This is, for me, the best feature.
Verging on what could easily be seen as the precursor to Eraserhead (with regards to the child actor), the characters are painted in almost bleach white, adding a sense of bitterness and isolation. The use of black and white, and highlighting of muted bright colours is stark and striking. The story revolves around an unwanted child, born from two animalistic parents who would seem better locked in a cage than taking care of a child. Through the abuse and neglect of his parents, the child decides to grow a grandmother upstairs from a seed, earthed in soil and watered over a period of time. What grows is quite astonishing, and is reminiscent of HR Giger work, and definitely wouldn’t look out of place. The gruesome, twisted plant that grows, and eventually gives birth to the grandmother is an entrancing and deeply symbolic scene.
The entire feature is brilliant to watch from start to end, and provides the last example within which Lynch would use animation and live action. On the topic of the animation, it comes across as an early Monty Python sketch, but works surprisingly well. The camera work, lighting and sheer cynical nature of the piece is disturbing not for it’s visual gore, but for the more subtle and dark undertones it provides. Haunting and proactive, it’s the feature that makes me smile with delight at the harrowing and sorrowful tale it presents, in a mostly silent performance.
The Amputee (1974) – 9 minutes
The first feature without animation, and also one of rather poor quality. The transfer is perhaps as good as it could be. Lynch explains how they were filming Eraserhead and ran out of money. At the time, the American Film Institute was looking to buy a large stock of tape. Lynch’s friend was testing out two blocks of b&w tape for which he needed to send back the AFI with some test filming. Lynch was rather disturbed by the notion of the AFI using video tape rather than actual film, and so asked to create a rather ironic piece for his friend.
Here we are presented with essentially the same feature filmed twice with two different b&w tapes. It is interesting, but rather normal by Lynch standards. There’s no real message, or insinuation behind the piece. A female amputee sits in a chair, as she writes on a pad and recites her thoughts vocally. The letter is about friendship, involving betrayal and trust; what was said, what wasn’t said and so on.
In parallel, a male nurse attends to the stumps of the female amputee with rather inept skill, causing the stump he’s working on to haemorrhage blood just as the female amputee expresses her annoyance and anger at the betrayal of the friendship in her monologue. There are grounds for a metaphorical link between the hatred and out pouring of main in her words, and that of her stumps bleeding; do you feel sympathy for the blood she is losing through the amputation that has occurred, or is the sympathy reserved for the hurt she feels in the betrayal of her trust. It’s possible to argue that as neither the amputee nor the male nurse actually look at each other, nor acknowledge each other, both a separate entities, and thus it’s up to the viewer to choose which is the greatest loss for the female.
Even as the feature with the worst quality in film, it does a decent job of presenting something of interest. Although, as Lynch states, it may just have been a tongue-in-cheek expression at the AFI’s expense (perhaps a metaphor for the Institute’s decision to use video tape over film? The betrayal of one thing over what is already trusted?). The quality of the second video is worse than the first, with the sound on both being of reasonable quality, it’s essentially the same piece and serves as an interesting distraction. It also perhaps hints at some of the ideas used, or envisioned for Eraserhead.
The Cowboy and the Frenchman (1989) – 25 minutes
I half enjoyed David Lynch’s take on the French. It was part of a project proposed to him; The French through the eyes of David Lynch, and this is the fruit of his endeavours. It uses every known cliche of both cowboys, native Indians and the French.
The humour doesn’t always work, and some of it does become bland as the cliche’s start folding in on themselves. There is a large number of snails in the film, and obvious French references. The most obvious stereotype was when the cowboys figure out that the Frenchman is a Frenchman and not an alien, by the crudest of jokes.
This is no Mel Brooke’s classic, and Lynch’s dry humour works well some of the time. Still, it comes across more like a short musical filled with stereotypes and cliches (which was the intention in the first place) but also becomes repetitious. It’s partly Lynch’s inability to create something that is humourous, but also the limitation that he has with the material. If you need to make obvious statements of stereotypes, how can you make it original?
The Cowboy and The Frenchman is perhaps the weakest of all the films, providing little in the way of anything interesting. There are moments of humour, but nothing to really sustain the story or the feature. At 25 minutes, it was perhaps too long to sustain a single stereotype, let alone two. The idea is sound, however, it just doesn’t feel executed or accomplished.
In terms of picture quality, this is by far the best on the collection; filmed in colour, the sound and picture transfer are pretty excellent throughout. The use of vivid, strong colours is easy on the eyes, allowing the viewer to try and enjoy what is Lynch-doing-comedy. It doesn’t always work, but it’s different.
Lumière et compagnie: Premonitions Following an Evil Deed (1996) – 55 seconds
Perhaps the most fascinating and inspirational piece. Filmed using an original Lumière camera (that’s right America, you didn’t invent film), this was one of the films created amongst a plethora of Directors to mark the 100th anniversary of motion pictures, which began with Lumière camera. At only 55 seconds long, Lynch felt restricted by what he was required to shoot.
Visually breathtaking, it manages to capture the 1900s in 55 seconds of film. The story revolves around a murder; three figures that look rather strange surround a capsule with a woman inside. There’s darkness and then the focus on a couple. The woman seems to have had a premonition about the death.
If Lynch was to live in the 1900s, he would feel just as home there as he does now. His is one of the few films on the compilation that stands out as an inspirational piece of work. Not only does have a beginning, a middle, and an end to a film that is shot with 55 seconds of film, but he manages to create suspense, intrigue and mystery as to what is going on. It’s an unbelievable accomplishment, and a testament to this man’s incredible creative genius; there is only one David Lynch.
The Short Films of David Lynch is a must have for any students interested in either art or film, as well as Lynch fans. There is so much depth to his work, even in his student hay days, and it is mesmerising to see how David Lynch came to be who he is today. The interviews are beautifully managed, with little in the way of interruption. At times, Lynch comes across as incoherent, and not a very articulate person.
However, we get to see him, with perhaps voyeuristic perversion, struggling to get this thoughts out from his brain and to his mouth to explain whatever it is he needs to explain. How rehearsed the interview-cum-monologue is I’m not too sure, but it definitely comes across as raw and honest, providing a unique insight into the man himself. I have seen other interviews of Lynch, and in none of those does he come across as nervous, confused or reserved about what it is he needs to say. This is Lynch in his most honest form.
It is art house, it is a touch pretentious, but Lynch has never cared about the opinions of others when it comes to doing his work. Couple with work unseen before, and a rare glimpse in to the mind of a genius in his early years, this is as a fantastic value box set of David Lynch’s rarest work.
Verdict: Beautiful, horrific, disturbing and imaginative. A must have DVD set from a truly rare, genius film maker