by Parker Macdonald
Like much of David Lynch’s filmography, Mulholland Drive is a surreal and uncanny movie to watch. While it is easy to pinpoint aspects of the film where it is surreal, understanding why Mulholland Drive is uncanny is much more difficult, because what causes our perception of the Uncanny is not as well understood. Kjeldgaard-Christiansen and Clasen (2023) assert that the Uncanny is the “anxiety aroused by the ambiguity of whether there is something to fear or not, and/or by the ambiguity of the precise nature of the threat…that might be present” where the ambiguity is caused when mentalisation, the ability to infer the mental state of other beings, is disrupted. This disrupted mentalisation can occur when “perceiving mind in mindless things or failing to perceive mind in beings that have minds” (323). And certainly, this feeling of a mindless thing containing a mind certainly applies to Mulholland Drive: from its use of editing to follow multiple storylines and create a non-linear narrative to its cinematography, at times it is as though Mulholland Drive is thinking on its own. Indeed, some film philosophers, such as Stephen Mulhall (2015) or Robert Sinnerbrink (2011), would argue that Mulholland Drive is thinking for itself. Mulhall, in particular, advances the theory of Film as Philosophy in which, rather than merely illustrating philosophical arguments or concepts, films actively participate in systematically thinking about and evaluating philosophical questions and arguments (3–4). To examine how Mulholland Drive philosophises on the concept of film as a language, particularly through editing and shot conventions, these ideas of Film as Philosophy will be used to view Mulholland Drive as utilizing a divergent style of “thought” and communication to disrupt the mentalisation between the audience and the film, creating an uncanny experience: this use of the Uncanny serves as Mulholland Drive’s main argument in favour of viewing film as a language.
Of course, when we say that films are thinking, this isn’t meant in the literal sense: films don’t have minds and thus cannot think as we do. Rather, as Mulhall explains, “Various elements within them have a significance that depends on the way they hang together with other elements to make a coherent whole and thus allow us to make sense of our experience of them” (91). The aesthetic experience created is the basis of the philosophical argument the film presents by reorienting our way of thinking on a subject, in a manner that is similar to philosophy. Thus, while Mulholland Drive is not ‘thinking’ in the traditional sense, the process by which it creates a philosophical argument via the aesthetic experience—created through the use of an internal logic, the way in which the cinematic elements ‘hang’ together and interact—can be thought of as being akin to the process of thought (Mulhall 91). Understanding the philosophical argument Mulholland Drive is trying to make through its aesthetic experience, the way in which it is ‘thinking,’ requires an aesthetic critique of this experience to understand this internal process (Mulhall 86).
It is important to note that just because a film can be conceived of as ‘thinking’ doesn’t make it uncanny. When Mulhall originally presented his idea of film as philosophy, he demonstrated how films can “think” using the Aliens quartet and expanded upon his ideas using the Mission: Impossible series, films which are not typically associated with the Uncanny (Mulhall 127). Furthermore, if we posit that there is an internal process that is analogous to a mental process in films via the construction or representation of a philosophical argument, then there is no misattribution of a mental process to Mulholland Drive. Mistaken mentalisation occurs when we attempt to infer the thoughts of mindless things, such as their beliefs or intentions. By creating a philosophical argument, Mulholland Drive necessarily has intentions, beliefs, and understandings. Thus, there is an internal process for the audience to attempt to infer from, and the audience is therefore appropriately mentalising Mulholland Drive.
It is noteworthy, though, that the audience perceives Mulholland Drive as ‘thinking’ in the first place. Mulhall argues that this can only be done through a critical aesthetic analysis of a film, indicating that the audience, though they may not realise it, is analysing Mulholland Drive and thus perceiving it to “think” (Mulhall 86). Whenever we perceive Mulholland Drive to be ‘thinking’ in this sense, it is in response to uncanny cinematic elements such as result from the filming or editing of a scene. Though these cinematic elements are the creation of David Lynch, we engage in the analysis necessary to perceive a film as ‘thinking’ whenever we encounter them. As a result, the audience conceives of Mulholland Drive as a separate ‘thinking’ entity, with ownership over these uncanny elements, only when we encounter these uncanny cinematic elements. Thus, it isn’t the concept of Mulholland Drive ‘thinking’ that is uncanny to the audience, but rather, the cinematic elements which provoke us into perceiving Mulholland Drive as ‘thinking’.
These cinematic elements are uncanny because they are the product of a divergent ‘thought process’ and communication style which disrupts the audience’s ability to mentalise the film and its characters. The relationship between Mulholland Drive and its audience can be seen as corollary to the Double Empathy Problem. The premise of the Double Empathy Problem is that when neurotypical and neurodivergent individuals communicate, “different dispositional outlooks and personal conceptual understandings” manifest in different communication styles, which disrupts mentalisation between individuals (Milton et al.). Bolis et al. expand upon this premise by positing that communication occurs on multiple levels, not just between individuals. When individuals communicate on the personal level, they communicate with each other utilising conventions for that situation, which they gain from interacting with the socio-cultural level. A lack of interaction with the socio-cultural level by neurodivergent individuals is what results in the differing communication styles (3–4). The relationship between Mulholland Drive and the audience can be understood through this framework if we view Mulholland Drive as neurodivergent in this way. This perspective marks how this essay will diverge from Mulhall’s approach: namely, the notion of thinking as a monolithic process. Cognitive sciences have shown that far from one type of thinking, there are multiple neurotypes that diverge from the neurotypical way of thinking and communicating (Bolis et al, 18). If we are to accept Mulhall’s proposal that films can indeed think, then we can also consider the possibility of neurodiversity within films. Mulholland Drive’s ‘neurodivergence’ occurs because it doesn’t interact with the socio-cultural level with regards to film conventions, utilising a different communication style which disrupts the audience’s ability to mentalise the film and its characters. When the audience interacts with Mulholland Drive, they assume that the film will communicate and have the same conceptual understanding of itself as the audience does. Mulholland Drive’s divergent communication style and ‘thought process’ thus disrupts the audience’s attempts at mentalisation, creating an uncanny aesthetic experience.[1] The relationship between the Uncanny and disrupted mentalisation within Mulholland Drive is exemplified by the Club Silencio scene. In the scene, numerous bizarre occurrences occur, such as the death of a singer, Betty undergoing a fit, and the mysterious appearance of the blue box. Throughout the scene, the audience doesn’t understand what is occurring or Mulholland Drive’s intentions; they understand that there is danger connected to the club, but not how, creating ambiguity around the danger and thus creating an uncanny feeling throughout the scene. These uncanny experiences stake Mulholland Drive’s philosophical claim in favour of film as a language. If a cinematic language doesn’t exist, then the use of an atypical communication style should not interfere with the audience’s ability to understand the film; thus, the Uncanny should not be created. It is with this theoretical framework that we can better understand how Mulholland Drive constructs the Uncanny.
Central to the creation of the Uncanny, according to Christiansen and Clasen’s definition of the Uncanny, is the ambiguous presence of a source of fear (323). While we certainly can sense danger and feel afraid during the Club Silencio scene, the constant threat of danger is established much earlier in Mulholland Drive by the Winkie’s Diner scene. In the scene, a man describes a recurring nightmare to a friend where the man has a constant “god awful” feeling that he can’t explain, but he knows that it is related to a horrific figure behind the diner at Winkie’s. As the men walk to the alleyway behind Winkie’s, a horrific-looking vagrant appears around the corner, causing the man to faint and die. This scene establishes the presence of an ambiguous threat throughout the rest of the film. Firstly, it scares the audience and establishes Mulholland Drive’s willingness and capability to act as a threat. As a result, the audience continues the rest of the film experience prepared to fear Mulholland Drive. Secondly, the scene attaches a symbolic meaning to a specific shot combination. As the men approach the back of the diner, the camera alternates between a shot of the men approaching the back of the diner and towards the camera to a point of view shot from the point-of-view of the men. As the men approach the back, they aren’t immediately able to see the horrific figure, there is only a wall in sight. As the men approach close to the wall, the audience enters into the point-of-view shot once again, from which we see the horrific figure appear from behind the wall and jump-scare the audience. The use of the point-of-view shot to jump scare the audience establishes a relationship between the presence of a threat and the point-of-view shot combination. This relationship aligns with the thesis of cinematic language, which argues that shot sequences can be seen as akin to a phrase in a language, where a specific combination of shots communicates specific information and ideas. In this case, the point-of-view shot is being used to communicate the presence of danger nearby (Sinnerbrink 25).
The point-of-view shot is prominently used twice more in Mulholland Drive to create a feeling of uncanniness in the audience. It is first used again when Betty arrives at her aunt’s house. Once she enters the house, we get a similar combination of point-of-view shots looking around the house and shots of Betty approaching the camera. This shot combination makes us feel as if there is a threat present in the house because the last time this shot combination was used, there was indeed a threat; yet, just as with the Winkie’s diner scene, the actual presence of the threat is left ambiguous. The audience is effectually told that there is a threat through the use of the particular shot combination, and yet they can’t see it. When Betty enters the bathroom and meets “Rita,” it subverts our expectations of a jump scare and leaves us with an uncanny feeling. Is Rita a threat? Nothing she does seems to indicate she is, and so the threat is left ambiguous. Simultaneously, the lack of an immediate threat impedes our ability to mentalise the film as we are left unable to answer why Mulholland Drive is portraying Rita as a threat. This same sequence occurs when Betty and Rita go to Diane Selwyn’s house. The point-of-view shot combination is used as they approach Diane’s bedroom, and once again, the presence of an immediate threat is left ambiguous: this time we see Diane Selwyn’s corpse on her bed, but the presence of an immediate threat is left ambiguous. Through the shot combination, we are once again told that there is a threat, and Rita’s reaction to seeing the corpse seems to reinforce this idea, but the precise nature of the threat is left unknown. In both cases, an uncanny feeling is created as a result of divergent expectations and understandings. Diane Selwyn’s corpse and Rita are threats, though the audience may not realise it immediately: by meeting Rita, Betty will begin a journey that will culminate in the death of her world. Likewise, Diane Selwyn’s corpse causes Rita to undergo an identity crisis, which will result in the death of her identity as “Rita.” Thus, Mulholland Drive follows the conventions it establishes; however, an uncanny feeling is created in the audience because of a conceptual misalignment wherein Mulholland Drive associates the point-of-view shot combination with death, whereas the audience is associating it with an immediate threat.
The uncanny feeling created by this difference supports another argument for film as a language. Proponents of the cinematic language thesis argue that if we consider editing/montage as the level upon which the cinematic language exists, then just as with other languages “comprehending the meaning of… a [shot sequence] would therefore require an act of decoding according to the relevant cinematic ‘code’ ” (Sinnerbrink 26). Indeed, the existence of a mismatch of understanding highlights how the POV shot sequence does require an act of “decoding” through analysis to fully understand it, as the creation of the uncanny in response to the shot sequence demonstrates that the audience doesn’t fully understand what Mulholland Drive is trying to communicate.
Still, critics of the cinematic language thesis argue that film conventions exist, not because of a ‘cinematic language’ but rather, because it is “a pragmatically effective way” of communicating information, which relies upon “the same kinds of [natural] perceptual abilities we ordinarily use to communicate with each other” (Sinnerbrink 26). Yet, through the use of the Uncanny, Mulholland Drive calls this argument into question. After Betty gets into a taxi on her way to her aunt’s house, Mulholland Drive cuts to a shot of the old couple Betty travelled with sitting in a limousine and smiling. The fact that the old couple are smiling isn’t what makes the scene uncanny and uncomfortable to watch; rather, it’s the prolonged duration of the scene where all the couple does is smile. A similar scene occurs when Diane believes Camilla comes back and Diane begins crying, and the shot lingers on her crying face. The ambiguity of threat doesn’t derive from the fact that the subjects of these scenes show only one emotion for a prolonged period: instead, it is the fact that Mulholland Drive lingers for so long on these emotions that the audience assumes that there is some significance to Mulholland Drive focusing on it, yet, there doesn’t appear to be a clear reason for it. As a result, the audience is unable to mentalise Mulholland Drive and makes its intentions ambiguous. As established by the Winkie’s diner scene, Mulholland Drive can terrify the audience, and by not being able to ascertain its intentions, we begin to feel anxious about whether Mulholland Drive is about to scare us again.
There doesn’t seem to be a significance behind prolonging these scenes: it seems as if the purpose of these scenes is to let us linger in these emotions. Yet, Mulholland Drive does so incredibly inefficiently. Our understanding of the emotions of these characters could be established with a much shorter scene. And it is with these inefficient uses of a scene that Mulholland Drive engages the argument that ‘cinematic language’ isn’t a language and merely the most efficient way of communicating information. If conventions are only a matter of efficiency, then communicating inefficiently should not affect the audience’s overall understanding of a scene. Nonetheless, as evidenced by the uncanny feeling the audience experiences when watching these scenes, that is not the case: a significance is attached to the prolonging of the scene by the audience, which Mulholland Drive itself does not seem to attach. As a result, the audience is unable to mentalise Mulholland Drive, which makes its intentions ambiguous. This, in turn, causes them to feel uncanniness as they are unable to understand the nature of the significance that they believe Mulholland Drive also attaches to these scenes. The length of a shot carrying significance in terms of the information it is supposed to communicate highlights that every type of scene and shot convention has some underlying meaning to the audience. Thus, conventions don’t exist as an efficient way to show information in a way that our natural perceptions can understand, but rather they act as a shorthand for the audience to gain meaning just from the type of shot. The use of the ‘wrong’ shot to communicate information results in the audience being unable to fully understand the intent of Mulholland Drive. This demonstrates that there is an underlying cinematic language that the audience is utilising to make sense of scenes.
Arguably, the most important part of any language is its words, and for proponents of the cinematic language thesis, the individual shots within a film are the words. As some critics of the cinematic language thesis argue, however, the relationship between words and their meaning are arbitrary conventions. By contrast, the relationship between a cinematic image and its subject is “less a matter of applying arbitrary conventions than of using our capacities for natural or ‘untutored’ perception to understand what we see” (Sinnerbrink 25–6). Mulholland Drive challenges this notion through the use of doubles. After Betty and Rita open the blue box, the story of Mulholland Drive changes, this time following the story of Diane Selwyn and Camilla, who are played by the same actresses as Betty and Rita, respectively. The use of the same actress for multiple characters within the same film creates an uncanny feeling within the audience: there is the natural assumption that there is a relationship between the two characters the actresses are playing, but the nature of this relationship and why they look the same is unknown. When Diane is first introduced, the only knowledge the audience has of her is that she was a rotting corpse in the world of Betty and Rita. By showing Diane’s corpse in Betty and Rita’s world, it firmly establishes them as two separate people, which makes the use of the same actress even more disconcerting. The audience understands that Diane and Betty are different people, yet when we look at them, we see the same person. When we first see Diane, we’re left to wonder whether these are the same people, and whether they have the same mind; as a result, we’re unable to mentalise Diane because the state of her mind is left ambiguous. Does she have the same mind as Betty or is her mind distinct from Betty’s, and the physical resemblance a mere coincidence? An uncanny feeling is thus experienced by the audience by this inability to ascertain whether their mentalisation of Diane as a separate person is correct. It is only until later in the film when this mentalisation is confirmed, and the mental relationship between Betty and Diane is better understood by the audience (when we realise that Betty is a persona created by Diane Selwyn in a dream world), that this uncanny feeling recedes.
This conflict between what the story tells us and what we see demonstrates that there are arbitrary conventions that govern how we view and perceive images. The actress for Betty and Diane is the same person, yet we perceive and understand them as different people because it is a convention that we adopt. We are willing to assign a different identity and mind to the same person solely because the cinematic narrative tells us that they are a different person, similar to how we assign meaning to certain sounds because of the language we use. When the narrative of Mulholland Drive tells us that they are two separate people, we accept this statement, even if we still view them as being the same person. The uncanny feeling the audience experiences occurs because of the conflict between trying to mentalise Diane as Betty, while also recognising Diane as a separate person. This convention also applies beyond Mulholland Drive to other films: though we may see the same actor or actress in multiple films, we still recognise them as distinct people in all those films, precisely because of cinematic conventions.
Mulholland Drive’s arguments for understanding cinema as a language is perhaps most clearly articulated in the conversation between The Cowboy and Adam Kesher. During the conversation, The Cowboy tells Adam that he needs to change his attitude if he wants to have a good life. If Adam Kesher does good, he’ll see The Cowboy again once more; if he does wrong, he’ll see The Cowboy twice more. Yet, in the story of Betty and Rita, Adam Kesher never sees The Cowboy again; it is the audience who does. Thus, this conversation can be viewed as actually being a conversation between Mulholland Drive and the audience. Under this understanding of the conversation, we can see how Mulholland Drive comments on the communication difference between the audience and itself. Firstly, The Cowboy tells Adam that there’s sometimes a buggy, and The Cowboy is the driver of that buggy. If Adam changes his attitude, then he can ride along, but only if he changes his attitude. The buggy in this conversation acts as a metaphor for the story of Mulholland Drive, with the necessary attitude change being a change in how open the audience is to different communication styles. If the audience isn’t receptive to Mulholland Drive’s style of communication and is unwilling to use the cinematic language Mulholland Drive has created, then they won’t be able to effectively follow along with the story. This idea is further reinforced by The Cowboy’s warning: if the audience sees The Cowboy twice more after the scene, they’ve done wrong. When the audience sees The Cowboy again, it is when he is waking Diane Selwyn, but when they see him the second time at Adam Kesher’s party, they are not actually seeing The Cowboy again; rather, they are seeing someone who looks like The Cowboy. But to make the distinction, the audience has to accept that the actors in the world of Diane and Camilla are portraying different characters from the ones in Betty and Rita’s world. If they don’t, then they will see The Cowboy twice more after the conversation and will have ‘done wrong,’ because they haven’t changed their attitude and adopted the conventions Mulholland Drive demands of them. This demand thus validates the role of conventions in the perception of images in films and the communication that occurs between the audience and a film as a result.
Thus, through the creation of an uncanny cinematic experience, Mulholland Drive philosophises on the idea of cinema as a language. The creation of the uncanny cinematic experience occurs as a result of a misalignment in communication styles between the audience and the film: this misalignment can only occur if there exists a cinematic language that the audience relies on to understand the film, and expects the film they are watching to utilise. The language of cinema exists not only through conventions in editing, in which significance is attached to shot combinations and the duration of shots, but also in the conventions of how we perceive characters within shots, perceiving their identity beyond what we simply see.
Endnotes
[1] Because this discussion posits that films can think and philosophise, stylistic decisions in the film will be referred to as Mulholland Drive’s to emphasise the process of thought being attributed to Mulholland Drive.
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