What are you avoiding?
Introducing First Impressions
We all put off watching something for our reasons. Even with decision fatigue, there’s that one show you choose not to watch, tucking it away at the back of your mind. I'm more invested in the why than the what because it says a lot about our watching habits and individual tastes, especially when algorithms dictate what we should and shouldn’t entertain. I’m launching a new column to understand viewing habits: FIRST IMPRESSIONS.
My first guest is Natalie Guevara, a writer, marketing executive, and creative consultant who lives between Miami and the Dominican Republic. She previously served on Spotify's U.S. Content Partnerships team and headed strategic communications at Genius. She publishes a Substack called Mise-En-Scène and recently wrote about dance’s influence on fashion for SSENSE.
Natalie had never seen a David Lynch movie before. The night before we spoke, she watched Mulholland Drive for the first time. Here were her first impressions.
You watched Mulholland Drive for the first time. What did you think?
Mulholland Drive felt very heavy to me. It's my first full exposure to a David Lynch film, and reflecting on his death was part of my experience while watching it.
Have you ever watched Twin Peaks?
Years ago, when Netflix still did the mail-in DVDs, I watched about 30% of Blue Velvet. I can't remember why I didn't finish it, because I'm such a completionist — I will stick with a book until the end, even if I'm not enjoying myself — but for whatever reason, I put Blue Velvet aside and never picked it back up. And then, right after he passed, I started watching "Twin Peaks" very slowly. I finished the first season about a week ago.
It takes me a long time to watch something like this because every episode, while 45 minutes, sends me into at least three hours of a rabbit hole. So, I think that's also why I feel like I've been avoiding starting on his films. It’s very daunting to me.
What felt heavy for you in Mulholland Drive?
I think the act of watching something with so much — and forgive the overused expression — lore, felt heavy to me. Some close friends knew I was making a date with myself to watch it. They're such fans of Lynch and are really curious about my thoughts. I guess I felt this expectation of, Will I truly connect with this? Or will I let some people whom I highly respect down if I don't really get it or like it? And then, of course, you factor in its place in the cultural firmament of the last 20+ years. The fact that its creator is no longer around. And also, I related to some key moments in the film. That feeling of not knowing who you are. One moment that touched me was Rita crying out to Betty, "I don't know who I am!" I felt that. What is the weight you feel when watching or rewatching it?
It's the idea of a life or someone's potential cut short. I keep remembering Betty at the beginning of this: She’s landed from Deep River, Ontario, ready to take on Hollywood. And then contrasted to where we find the real Betty/Diane towards the end, decomposing in a bed. In Lynch's hands, it can happen to anyone, which is much more true to life. Our worst fears can be real and not just our minds toying with us.
What scares me even more, and this relates to Betty/Diane in the film, is how we can play a huge role in making our worst fears come true. The agency we have in that. I’m not a huge scholar on Lynch himself, obviously, but the whole time I was watching, I couldn't help but wonder if he was working something out related to his insights from Transcendental Meditation over the years – the self, the ego, the ID, all of that. Without having watched the full canon, I can guess he's doing that a bit in all his work, but it felt very articulated in Mulholland Drive. Hollywood is a ripe setting for this exploration!
Were there any parallels you noticed between Twin Peaks and Mulholland Drive? Did one make you understand the other more? Or help you frame his work?
I'd have to chew on it a bit more, and perhaps come back to you after I watch all the different Twin Peaks installments. I went into the movie totally blind, and I tried not to read too much after watching it. But I did skim the Wikipedia page and learned that the movie originally started as a TV spin-off for Audrey Horne's character. I found that fascinating. On an emotional level, I stay fascinated by Lynch having these omniscient characters in these liminal chambers. There's some of that in Season 1 of Twin Peaks with Detective Cooper and his dreams, and in Mulholland Drive, there's that Big Boss of Hollywood archetype asking about "the girl."
I think what surprises me the most about Lynch's work, so far, is its interrogation of dreams and reality. It can also be viewed as fairly straightforward? I think, at first, I was expecting something way more confusing. And don't get me wrong — there's a lot of depth there. It's rich. But it's not obscure or weird for the sake of being obscure or weird. It actually reminded me most of John Waters's work. You can view it straight, you can view it hazy, or you can view it as a mix of both.
Were you drawn to any of the characters in Mulholland Drive?
Justin Theroux's character, weirdly enough. There's this earnestness to Lynch that also manifests in the characters he writes. And maybe it's just the season of life I'm in, but with Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), I connected with that feeling of wanting to do something your way but having to make compromises and feeling like you can't catch a break, so you just give in. That's the reality of life, period, but also with most creative endeavours that depend on collaboration and funding.
I remember how Lynch struggled to be understood and appreciated by Hollywood – it was a constant battle to make the movies he wanted to make, like Dune and Twin Peaks. Mulholland Drive didn’t perform well at the box office, but it earned him critical acclaim and a Palme d’Or.
Yes, and even all the way until the end! When he passed, I read that Ted Sarandos (at Netflix) was trying to get something going with him for years, but it just would never work out. I think Twin Peaks: The Return was his last big thing, right? And I felt like it was miraculous that it even happened. I remember at the time hearing some of the actors talking about how they didn't believe it was real until it was airing, because it was such an arduous journey. With your creative endeavours, do you feel comfort in knowing it's hard for mostly everyone to get things off the ground? Because I do.
I know he was doing Weather Reports, and then I think there was a woodworking docuseries? But that’s the struggle, right? When will you be understood enough to fully realize your vision? I find we're losing an appreciation for good storytelling, taking risks, and big ideas. I worry about the people who believe AI could replace writers. How do you feel about the state of it all?
Definitely. I think part of it is being understood enough, but another part of it is being trusted enough. I always think about Francis Ford Coppola when it comes to this. You can't get much more decorated as a filmmaker, but nearly everything he's made — be they (eventual) masterpieces or immediate flops — was a struggle to pull off, with gatekeepers and money men prodding and poking him every step of the way.
I'm not as fearful of AI as most, though I'm a little concerned to see how it goes. I'm mostly worried about human beings becoming even lazier. Instead of leveraging AI to grow our creativity and make certain processes more efficient, so we can make space for the more esoteric, less "logistical" sides of ourselves. I'm afraid we're all going to collectively go for the lowest common denominator, and it will flatten us all. This is where I find deep inspiration in the David Lynches and Francis Ford Coppolas of the world, who are all about being tenacious and courageous, regardless of reviews or if they're in danger of being put in "movie jail."
I think, at my most frustrated, I always just go back to: Trust yourself and depend on yourself. Easier said than done, and it depends on the scope of what you're trying to do. But that's why I also think it's very noble when artists self-fund things or go a less mainstream route in order to bring something to its fullest expression, without compromise.
I’m currently working in marketing, and I'm seeing a great flattening there. And I find that I have a set of directors or writers I turn to when I need to be reminded that there's always another way. Do you? And was there something in Mulholland Drive that really stuck with you, or showed this to you in a way?
I've always wanted to be a full-time writer — specifically a journalist reporting on arts and culture! — but I was served a really big reality check upon graduating from college in 2008. I admire friends who managed to find a way to make it work, but being who I am, I craved something stable. I've always worked in communications, marketing and branding, and have done that across different industries (lifestyle, media, tech, now hospitality). I am reaching this point, though, where I'm trying to make even more space in my life to bring some long-gestating creative projects into fruition. It's not really even a resource thing at this point, it's more about fearlessness.
Watching Mulholland Drive and reflecting on your point about the sliding doors of life, I knew I did not want to end up like Diane, only dreaming about what would happen if things were different. Feeling resentment of any sort, be it towards others or especially towards myself, feels poisonous to me. Lately, I've really subscribed to the belief of doing things imperfectly in order to make progress. And when it's time to debut my work, I'm making a promise to myself to not be shy about it, either.
I wanted to touch on something you mentioned earlier — that you had felt like you had to appreciate Lynch because others admired his work. How did you feel after watching Mulholland Drive? Or about your own instincts? I ask because I find that criticism has equally taken a very weird turn.
Criticism IS in a weird place! I revere critics who, you can tell, critique something because they love art. But now, I feel that, because media is in a weird place and there's just a lower barrier to entry, everyone feels like they can be a critic, and it's just not true. And yes, these "critics" get hung up on the most random things sometimes, like the morality and ethics of the filmmakers or artists behind the work. What does that have to do with the actual text they're engaging with, unless, of course, it's an explicit theme? It's odd to me.
Back to your earlier question, I think I need to rewatch Mulholland Drive, maybe after I explore some of his other films. I'm still deciding if I liked it or not. Did I get something out of it? Absolutely. Did I enjoy certain aspects? Of course. I just don't know if it's something that is going to be my cultural touchpoint. I want to talk with more people who love it fiercely, to understand why! Sometimes I think a lot of this comes down to the initial point of exposure. Where were you when you first watched something? Who were you when you watched it? I was actually really worried I wouldn't "get' Lynch because I'm older. I have my tastes, and I'm hard-coded, in a way. I love John Waters, but I wonder, would I like his films if I just started watching them now? I absolutely do want to keep engaging with Lynch's work. I would do that regardless of whether the films were personally resonating with me or not, because I respect that he created a new cinematic language, and I want to see and try to grasp how.
You also mentioned you’re in marketing as well. I think trailers are also in a weird place right now. In that they’re not all effectively selling us on movies like they once did. What did you think of the trailer for Mulholland Drive?
I actually watched the trailer for Mulholland Drive after watching the movie, and it's like... Wow, whoever decided humans need to be spoon-fed and dumber is really doing a spectacular job. Audiences deserve so much more. We can all rise to the challenge, I promise you, Hollywood execs...
Don't get me started on the state of trailers today...They also give the whole movie away. It's wild. I went to see The Brutalist last month, and there were at least three trailers before it where I was like, OK, no need to even watch it because I know about every beat. Especially with comedies! I still get so delighted when a film is a genuine surprise. Has there been anything new out recently that has thrown you for a loop? Good or bad?
I’m much more drawn to old movie posters – when movies had taglines! I remember the one for Broadcast News. I bought the poster a few years ago and I’m staring at it right now. It’s the story of their lives.
I love posters that are bold and memorable, but a bit restrained at the same time. I think '70s posters, during the age of New Hollywood, did this really well. The ones I'm thinking of are The Panic in Needle Park and Pray for Bobby and Helen. Like, I'm in. Who are these people? I wanna know. I haven't looked into all of Lynch's movie posters, but something that stood out to me with Mulholland Drive is that you can tell the film was released when DVDs reigned supreme.
It's also a post-9/11 movie... Like, one of the first! That's wild. It was released about a month after the attacks. As if we weren't already in a fog back then, imagine grappling with this. Did Lynch ever have a box office success? I need to research. I feel like he never did very well commercially, but he had so many influential supporters that he managed to keep making another one.
He had a cult following for sure. And then, when Twin Peaks came back, his audience definitely grew.
Yes! I also think Tumblr really helped him get a foothold with our generation. I think the two images that introduced me to who he was were: The Eraserhead poster and the senior photo of Laura Palmer. I kept seeing Laura Palmer reblogged on Tumblr, and then that's how I discovered it belonged to Twin Peaks – a show I had only heard about because my mom used to watch it on ABC when I was little. It was a moment where I was like, this is all connected.
You know what other filmmaker I kept thinking about while watching Lynch? Kubrick. I think my version, so far, of people being obsessed with Lynch is me being obsessed with Eyes Wide Shut. I see new things in it every time, and it's still the film that, to me, most feels like being inside a dream. I know people who watch it every Christmas. I'm not that extreme, but I've seen it like four or five times. I'm still trying to crack it.
What draws you back?
It's odd because it's slightly Lynchian in that you can play it in a very straightforward way, but it just evokes a feeling of unknowability. It makes you question what you're seeing or what you just saw. I always walk away from it like, Did I get all that? And to add to it, it stars two of the biggest movie stars of all time, which only makes it weird to me. I think Lynch does something really curious in that he has his troupe of actors, and they have varying degrees of fame. I wouldn't say he was working with anyone as famous in a mainstream way as Kidman and Cruise, and so in a way, it was more plausible to see them in these absurd situations. What adds to the uncanny feeling for me in Eyes Wide Shut is seeing two of the biggest movie stars, who were married at the time, making this highly risky, very droll, very creepy work. The last Kubrick!
The very last Kubrick and the end of a very high-profile marriage (2 years later).
Maybe Kubrick cast them specifically to see if he could fuck with them.
This is where Kubrick and Lynch split off for me — I think Kubrick was toying with his actors, almost like pawns. Lynch revered his actors. Don’t get me wrong – the Lynch movies mess with our heads. And so do Kubrick’s! But it's interesting how much Lynch can create that feeling while still respecting his actors.
Right. I think that's why I've heard actors like Laura Dern speak out that it's possible to make great art without being a tortured dictator.
What do you think draws so many people to Lynch’s work? What captivates them so much?
I was thinking about this while watching Naomi Watts and her too-small cardigan in the film. A cardigan that's totally unremarkable. I think something that appeals to people about Lynch's work is they probably feel recognized by it in some way. Even though they may appear like "normies," there's something inside them — inside all of us — that knows we're not what we seem. Everyone has an inner freak. I don't mean it in a gauche way. But we all have dark and sinister sides, and so I do feel like, as an audience, we feel "seen" by Lynch in that respect.
You know what's really nuts? I can't believe I'm bringing this up now. Last night, after I watched the movie, I remembered that a friend and I actually went to a New York art opening of David Lynch back in 2012. It was on the Upper East Side. Even though I had never watched his stuff, I was — and still am — the type to be curious about someone's work and just experience it. My friend was the bigger fan. I'll never forget how, in the line to get in, there were "normal-looking" people, your typical fashionable people, but then there were, like, goth people, too. I just found it striking then, and especially now that I've engaged with more of his work, how the work speaks to all kinds of people. And to make it even more poetic, when I looked up the date of the opening, it was March 16, 2012 — 13 years tomorrow! I remember clocking it last night, like, I have to tell Sara! This is too perfect.
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absolutely love this! ♥️