Mulholland Drive is a film akin to the haziness of desperately clinging to remember a fleeting, unformulated thought.
It has a spellbinding effect, one which rewards multiple viewings and never fails to entrance me on such a visceral level. A hypnotic edit which leaves you disoriented in ways you didn’t even realise were possible. Narrative non-sequiturs that are precisely weaved into the film’s enigmatic tapestry. It’s an elaborate jigsaw that always seems to have one piece that doesn’t quite fit,…
