“Dick Laurent is dead”.
Among the innumerable scattered quotes that I carry with me from the mists of time, “Dick Laurent is dead” is one of those with which the subconscious continues to come to terms with no way out.
Seen for the first time in 1997 in a cinema that no longer exists, the Holiday in Largo Benedetto Marcello in Rome, Lost roads by David Lynch – which will now be back in theaters from January 16, restored in 4K thanks to the Cineteca di Bologna – is one of those films that has never left me again.
Telephones ringing in empty rooms, characters doubling up, seemingly disconnected narrative lines dangerously intersecting, suspicions of marital infidelity and anonymous videotapes capturing the exteriors and interiors of your home, not to mention Mephistophelean figures – “the man mystery” of the party (Robert Blake, here in his latest film, whose pallor is worth more than a thousand frightening masks) – faces and atmospheres that are impossible to forget.
The elusive sensuality of Patricia Arquette, the constant semi-hallucinated state of Bill Pullman, jazz saxophonist caged in the enclosure of a nightmare with no way out, the soundtrack produced by Trent Reznor (with original music by Angelo Badalamenti, Reznor himself and Marilyn Manson) and that Streetnocturnal, lostwhich opens and closes the film on the notes of I’m Deranged by David Bowie.
“I had a dream last night… You were lying on the bed, it wasn’t you, it looked like you, but it wasn’t you.”
Paradoxical and illogical noir, in some ways a forerunner of the most celebrated Mulholland Drive (2001) and inevitably imbued with the same irrational, marvelous and inextricable tortuosity that was (and will later be with the third part) of Twin PeaksLynch’s film puts reality, nightmares and hallucinations on the same level: “Where’s the trick?” Pullman asks the mysterious man who, during the party, in front of him, simultaneously answers the phone from his home.
The trick is simply the same in which that “Dick Laurent is dead” heard on the other end of the intercom causes the phrase to be uttered by Pullman’s own voice, who listens at the same time.
“I prefer to remember things my way. How I remember them, not necessarily how they happened.”
Until the decisive plot twist, the murder, the arrest, the death sentence, the inexplicable transformation: the jazz saxophonist becomes another person, a mechanic (Balthazar Getty), guilty of nothing and therefore free to leave prison . In fact, another story begins, in which we will finally meet Dick Laurent (Robert Loggia) and find Patricia Arquette (before it was Renée, brunette, now it is Alice, blonde). Is this the reality? Or is it the last chance of a dream with which to try to take back one’s life, and the woman he loves?
Crazy, disturbing, a film that will never leave you again.
“Funny how secrets travel
I’d start to believe
if I were to bleed
Thin skies, the man chains his hands held high
Cruise me blonde
Cruise me babe
A blonde belief beyond beyond beyond
No return No return”