25 years ago today, Mulholland Drive, my favorite film of all time, debuted at the Cannes Film Festival. In honor of this milestone, I share an essay about what the film has meant to me over the years.

Coming of Age, Coming Out, and the Strange Journey Down David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive

It begins with an accident. A car accident. One that shatters the identity of an unknown woman (Laura Elena Harring) and ripples through the seductive, nightmarish world of Los Angeles. It’s a world built from the archetypes and tropes of film noir, showbiz pulp, and ‘star is born’ melodramas. The bubbly ingenue (Naomi Watts) looking to make it as both a great actress and a movie star? Sure! The hotshot director (Justin Theroux) battling for control over his cinematic vision? Indeed!

But in the surreal world of David Lynch, nothing is ever so simple. What starts as a mystery slowly blossoms into a romance, metamorphoses into a horror film, and finally wilts into a tragedy.

It’s… a love story in the city of dreams.

No film has moved me quite like Mulholland Drive. It’s a film that every time I watch it, I feel like I’m falling in love with it for the first time. Those who know me know it’s not only my choice for Lynch’s magnum opus, but my favorite film of all time. My praise could easily become simple list-making: Watts’ extraordinary performance is the best I’ve seen, the picture has rightfully been championed as the greatest film thus far in the 21st century by numerous critics and film organisations, its puzzle box nature continues to enchant viewers who offer their own explanations for what it all means. This isn’t even covering other aspects, like Mary Sweeney’s pitch-perfect editing or Angelo Badalamenti’s lyrical, haunting score.

So much of the discourse concerning the film are attempts to “solve” it. Lynch has always been adamant he wants his works to engage with the subconscious, to transcend the limited parameters of how viewers “should” engage with art. To “solve” Mulholland Drive feels more like an autopsy. In my opinion, the best films have a certain magic that allow us, as cinephiles, pop culture enthusiasts, and people, to feel genuinely swept away and lost in that world. There is a sense of adventure in not knowing what lies ahead and each revisit reveals new detours, hidden pleasures, and novel perspectives worthy of consideration.

I was fifteen when I first saw Mulholland Drive. I had heard about the film for several years, and I was already familiar with Lynch’s gorgeous-grotesque nightmare vision. Nothing quite prepared me for what he dreamed up with this masterpiece. Watching it for the first time truly felt like being transported to another realm, one where I learnt so much about myself in the process. I knew after one viewing it was my favorite movie of all time. This was not solely because the sheer imagination of the narrative, the magnificent central performance from Watts (her collaborations with Lynch deserve to be remembered in cinema/TV history), or the fact that I immediately wanted to watch again and again and again. Nor was it for the way for the way Lynch made idealised fantasy seem like “reality” and reality seem like a harrowing, disorienting fantasy.

In the ultimate paradox, Lynch’s burning cinematic cocktail of love, obsession, jealousy, and revenge was the strangest ‘hopeful’ film I had seen.

I was deeply closeted at fifteen, although many suspected I wasn’t straight. LAlready a huge film geek at that age, I was acutely aware that my ‘fate’ as a gay man, if films and TV shows were any indicator. It would probably be death through disease or violence, a life wracked by loneliness and misery, or living as the sidekick to a straight person. Perhaps my demise would teach them tolerance as well! Not exactly the stuff of which dreams are made.

Mulholland Drive is a heart-breaking tragedy, but one where the tragedy unfolds organically. It’s not communicated from the first frame, nor is it a result of the lead character(s)’ queerness. Tied to it, yes. A result, no. The fact that labels like ‘gay,’ ‘bi,’ ‘lesbian,’ don’t exist in this world, the idea that passionate love and sex can stem from a simple goodnight kiss… all of that was ground-breaking and wonderful. I was not a particularly happy teen, so the idea that my life could be tragic, but not because of the types of people I was attracted to — that felt bizarrely empowering. It made me realise I need not feel ashamed of my feelings or attractions. It made me feel I could just be, like Betty/Diane or Rita/Camilla. The sexual orientation of the film’s characters was just another part of the narrative and arguably the most normal part of the film, that was life changing.

From the moment I saw it, I felt a kinship with the Betty/Diane characters, both played by Watts. It is a testimony to her talent that with her performances she makes broadness and subtlety look so intertwined as to be indistinguishable. Betty is pure sunny optimism; Diane is depression and rage personified. But both feel human, even at their most extreme. The whole world seems laid out on a silver platter for Betty; unspeakable tragedy and humiliation lie behind every corner for Diane. Through the years, I have gone through my Betty stages and my Diane chapters. I like to think everyone has. My most recent revisiting of this film came after what was the most chaotic year in my life, one where the aftershocks are still being felt. Seeing Betty reminded me of how not to lose hope in a weird and uncertain world, even if it feels easier to give up. Seeing Diane reminded me that the hurt and anger that comes from broken dreams is real and valid, but it’s dangerously easy to fall deeply down that rabbit hole.

In that sense, Mulholland Drive has served as a valuable roadmap for me. The world may be filled with terrible grotesqueries, crushing disappointment, and the erratic pacing of a frightening nightmare. But moments of love, optimism, the idea that success and happiness are possible, those all exist as well, even if they may not last long. Perhaps Diane is Betty after too many years of disappointment and mistreatment. Perhaps Betty was nothing more than an impossible ideal, an exaggerated form of what may have been more modest hopes and dreams.

It’s just one of many mysteries the film leaves the viewer to consider. However, I do believe the film presents one ideal in both its ‘dream’ world and ‘real’ world: the possibility that in a dark, surreal universe, the journey itself can be eye-opening and awe-inspiring.

As I get older, I hope I can say I lived an interesting life and that when I die, I was more happy than unhappy. Mulholland Drive gave me that hope. I want a life as vibrant, moving, and mysterious as the film itself.

A person can dream…