Eerie, elegant, eclectic
To continue our theme of soundtrack reviews, we go for a film which is both baffling and excellent. For anyone who has seen the opening sequence of this modern tour de force, consisting of a black limousine snaking it’s way through the Hollywood Hills, should remember the uneasy, eerie and emotionally overwrought orchestral tinged electronica of the title theme which emerges from the nervous, up-tempo swing rhythm of a big band dance. This is typical of Badalamenti’s contribution to the score, juxtaposing innocent pop nuggets into a dark soundscape becoming murkier at every turn. The soundtrack as a whole turns on the usual Lynchian elements, the brooding atmosphere of Angelo Badalamenti‘s ominous synth-ensemble cues are thrown against Lynch’s own, off-centre, kitsch compositions.
...and now I'm in this dream place. Well, you can imagine how I feel.
The plot follows Betty Elms (played by Naomi Watts) a perky Hollywood hopeful as she tries to unravel the mystery behind a nameless woman (Laura Harring), her amnesia and involvement in a car crash. Over the next two and a half hours of hallucinatory thrills and charged erotica, a new reality emerges, portraying the seedy unpleasantries of both the film’s protagonists and the Hollywood machine itself. The film takes an incomprehensible turn around two thirds of the way through, it becomes confusing when characters disappear and plot devices dribble out – but all things considered it does make some semblance of sense in the end. The narrative is playfully surreal rather than frustratingly over-intricate. The regular themes of Lynch’s best work are all here – strange Machiavellian characters behind the scenes, extreme violence, obsessive characters and mainly the surreal being an active part of daily life. Without trying to give too much away, the film culminates in a delusional masturbatory fantasy and suicide which explains the dream-like goings on of the previous two and half hours.
It'll be just like in the movies. Pretending to be somebody else.
Like all their collaborations, Mulholland Drive’s is equally eerie, elegant and eclectic. By spanning the aforementioned up-beat Jitterbug into the haunting orchestral drone of the film’s main theme in it’s first two scenes alone the audience is left in no doubt of being transported into a very different world. Baldalamenti’s own work varies from the jazzy Dinner Party Pool Music to the ominous ambience of Diner, Silencio and the Dwarfland / Love Theme. Lynch’s own surfy, guitar-based compositions, Mountains Falling and Go Get Some aren’t quite as transporting as Badalamenti’s pieces, but they certainly offer a sonic twist on the sunny California that Lynch portrays and subverts in the film. Similarly, Linda Scott’s sugary sweet I’ve Told Every Star” takes on a slightly disturbing edge within the context of the film and album, while Llorando by Rebecca Del Rio, a Spanish a cappella version of Roy Orbison’s classic Crying only sounds more vulnerable and heart-wreching. A focused and accomplished piece of work, Mulholland Drive is a mysterious and affecting soundtrack from one of the most consistently creative teams working in film.
So since you agree, you must be someone who does not care about the good life.
Although not garnering quite the same effect as sitting in a darkened theatre, experiencing the exaggerated gestures, heightened emotions and odd plot turns. All in all, the soundtrack is every bit as entertaining, quirky and surreal as the film itself. Badalamenti and Lynch weave a soundscape that characteristically pulls the listener from one mood to the next. From brooding foreboding to flavourless yet intriguing pastiches there is a constant undercurrent of hallucination. The atmosphere, emotion, dream and subsequent reality shock of the cinema are all here to be enjoyed through your home stereo.
The rest of the cast can stay, that's up to you. But that lead girl is not up to you. Now you will see me one more time, if you do good. You will see me, two more times, if you do bad.
Like the film, the soundtrack builds towards Rebekah Del Rio’s, Llorando (Roy Orbison’s, Crying translated into Spanish). Sung a cappella and with haunting magnificence it could feel as though the track would not be as powerful without the context of the film. The unexpected focus on sound (as opposed to image) when this song appears in the film in the Silencio Club scene, sets it apart from other sound elements in the film. There, musicians and singers pretend to perform, but the music is all canned. Says the emcee: “This is all a tape recording. It is an illusion.” Up in the balcony, the pair begin crying. Betty shakes and weeps in some hyperemotional response to the music. This is truly music for the soul, offering something deeper, perhaps representing Lynch’s own ideas about life.
So give it a listen and see if it can elevate you towards the fantastical mental energy of Betty herself (or is that Diane). Angelo Badalamenti plays the espresso-drinking movie executive at the beginning of the film, incidentally.
