This work must represent Lynch's musings on his craft. We see a sitcom. Actors are garbed as rabbits that are dressed as people. That is, they are not rabbits, "per se"; they are only (badly) dressed as pantomime bunnies within the sitcom, set obviously on a stage. Like Shakespeare's play within a play, we see a sitcom in a video (in a movie, inside Inland Empire). It is presented as an ironic "meta-tale".
If we try to follow the sitcom we are misled. The laugh track isn't tracking identifiable punch lines. The dialog is out of order and seemingly not in sync with the present action. There is a narcotic dreaminess about watching the actors in the video playing characters in a sitcom. We lose context. What exactly are we witnessing? The meaning of the sitcom is not the meaning of the video, and therein lies the disturbing ambiguity of the unfolding story.
The medium is not the message. Lynch knows his audience interprets him through the tropes of movie-making. He knows he must express his ideas within the boundaries of its form, subject to the expectations of his audience, who are likely to impose their own prejudices.
The rabbits exist in a created exigency outside of real experience. They are motivated by their own ephemeral mythos, informed to action only for this short performance we are witnessing. The author feeds them soliloquy, to bridge the distance between himself and the audience, but with an absurd result. Will we ever know what they are thinking? No, because they are not thinking in reality, they are acting out roles in a disordered sitcom.
This being said: The sitcom is about patricide. The mother waits for him, but Suzie and Jack have killed the father figure. It is an unspeakable crime that masks another. Dear dad may have had designs on young Suzie. Of course, it explains the dread and shame. I cannot prove it conclusively.
On first viewing I was entirely riveted by it. On second viewing I was analyzing the heck out of it. On third viewing it struck me how absurd the whole thing was and I started to laugh at it. I began to think, this is what Beatrix Potters' recurring nightmare looks like.
If you know who Luis Buñuel is, then you probably already own a bootleg copy of this video. If you can walk through a modern art exhibit without giggling then this movie is most likely for you. If Jackson Pollack reminds you of the oil stains on your driveway, then you probably want to steer clear.
Lynch removes the burden of narrative from the story and fragments dialog out-of-sequence so you are free to get popcorn during any phase of the showing without fear of missing something.
SPOILER ALERT!!: Nothing really happens. Well, a woman screams. And no, I have no idea what that means.
If we try to follow the sitcom we are misled. The laugh track isn't tracking identifiable punch lines. The dialog is out of order and seemingly not in sync with the present action. There is a narcotic dreaminess about watching the actors in the video playing characters in a sitcom. We lose context. What exactly are we witnessing? The meaning of the sitcom is not the meaning of the video, and therein lies the disturbing ambiguity of the unfolding story.
The medium is not the message. Lynch knows his audience interprets him through the tropes of movie-making. He knows he must express his ideas within the boundaries of its form, subject to the expectations of his audience, who are likely to impose their own prejudices.
The rabbits exist in a created exigency outside of real experience. They are motivated by their own ephemeral mythos, informed to action only for this short performance we are witnessing. The author feeds them soliloquy, to bridge the distance between himself and the audience, but with an absurd result. Will we ever know what they are thinking? No, because they are not thinking in reality, they are acting out roles in a disordered sitcom.
This being said: The sitcom is about patricide. The mother waits for him, but Suzie and Jack have killed the father figure. It is an unspeakable crime that masks another. Dear dad may have had designs on young Suzie. Of course, it explains the dread and shame. I cannot prove it conclusively.
On first viewing I was entirely riveted by it. On second viewing I was analyzing the heck out of it. On third viewing it struck me how absurd the whole thing was and I started to laugh at it. I began to think, this is what Beatrix Potters' recurring nightmare looks like.
If you know who Luis Buñuel is, then you probably already own a bootleg copy of this video. If you can walk through a modern art exhibit without giggling then this movie is most likely for you. If Jackson Pollack reminds you of the oil stains on your driveway, then you probably want to steer clear.
Lynch removes the burden of narrative from the story and fragments dialog out-of-sequence so you are free to get popcorn during any phase of the showing without fear of missing something.
SPOILER ALERT!!: Nothing really happens. Well, a woman screams. And no, I have no idea what that means.