With Mulholland Drive as my introduction to the art of David Lynch, I had no idea the journey I was about to begin. While watching the film, there was this tremendous sense of unease; towards the end, after the famous “blue box” scene, the experience became more surreal. I found myself disturbed by the odd and chilling sequences that took place. Looking back on the film, I have found Mulholland Drive worthy to be considered a work of horror.

Continuing to explore Lynch’s filmography, there are many horrors to be found. One could look at his works and label them as “psychological thrillers;” that said, they are also intimate experiences of terror. There and then Lynch has been known to use some shock and gross-out tactics, but his brand of unsettling is more about the evil in the everyday normal. Beyond the white picket fence and well-groomed garden, Lynch looks to the mystery and evil behind closed doors and within people.

With that said, I want to dive into some of Lynch’s art, critiquing how his material makes for effective horror.

Beginning with the cult classic Eraserhead, Lynch explores the struggles of parenthood in the most unsettling of ways. Over time sound is utilized not only to provoke the anxieties and stress of protagonist Henry but to also crawl under the skin of the viewer. From the clanking of the nearby industrial plant to the cries of Henry’s baby, Eraserhead is brimming with sensory overload. The dream imagery, in particular “The Lady in the Furnace,” provides this haunting allusion into the mind of Henry; his sexual desires and frustration all pent up, secreting into bizarre nightmarish visuals. Including severed umbilical cords and the baby’s alien appearance, Eraserhead is a difficult picture; difficult not only in the challenge that comes into reading the material but also how grotesque and uncomfortable it is to watch. Moving forward, Lynch’s drama and horror would continue to come together and provide extremely unpleasant tension.

Blue Velvet comes across as a horrifying tale in how it reveals evil under the veil of a pleasant looking town. We see the white picket fence, we see the firemen waving as they drive by, and then we see the severed ear. Alone this image is jarring, taking the viewer off balance when it appears among such delightful imagery. As the film progresses, we enter a world of murder and sexual violence. Blue Velvet is a look behind the innocent curtain of suburban life; the violence in Blue Velvet makes for a too-close-for-comfort immersion. Watching as Isabella is assaulted by Frank, while also having to withstand his other forms of abuse is heartbreaking. Isabella is trapped into obeying Frank’s demands; thus Blue Velvet provides a look into one person’s secret hell.

Many of these elements are also in Lynch’s TV drama, Twin Peaks. The show explores the nightmares hidden among another seemingly wholesome town. It doesn’t take long for Twin Peaks to unveil all the corruption hiding under its surface; from drug dealers to murders and crooked business-people, almost everyone in the town is hiding a secret. Twin Peaks also explores personal horrors, primarily through Laura Palmer. In Fire Walk With Me, the film based on the show, we explore Laura Palmer’s final days and her tortured psyche due to the sexual abuse of her father.

Twin Peaks eventually journeys into surrealism. For all the bizarre moments that take place throughout the show, there is rarely any clear explanation (or explanation at all). The lack of answers is another one of Lynch’s qualities; profound horror can leave one in a state of shock and full of emotion. When watching Twin Peaks, the viewer must endure the surreal narrative, having to witness the horrors and revelations that come with minimal answers. Whether it is the nightmarish existence of The Black Lodge or the existence of Bob, Twin Peaks presents evil as a spiritual presence without rhyme or reason.

The difference between Twin Peaks and Blue Velvet, when considering their viewpoints of evil, is the use of surrealism; especially if you think Twin Peaks: The Return, the show becomes much more of a psychedelic nightmare. Whereas Frank from Blue Velvet and Evil Cooper from Twin Peaks are evils grounded in the realm of reality, the latter goes beyond that form, having more influence on the show’s interdimensional drama. However, this blurring of reality-meets-surrealism is something Lynch dove into well before Twin Peaks: The Return. Lost Highway would be Lynch’s next big trip into nightmares.

At the beginning of the film, we meet Fred Madison (played by Bill Pullman) and Renee Madison (played by Patricia Arquette); the couple receives a creepy videotape showing footage from inside their home. After a bizarre encounter with The Mysterious Man, Fred receives another tape, showing footage of him standing over his dead wife. Fred is arrested and sentenced to death for murder.

Shortly after, the screen fills with smoke; when we return to Fred’s jail cell, we see a different person. Now in the cell is Pete Dayton (played by Balthazar Getty), an auto mechanic. The police have no understanding of how he got there and set him free. Later on, we see Patricia Arquette, this time playing Alice Wakefield and not Renee Madison. We learn that Alice is the mistress of a Mr. Eddy, the latter who isn’t the nicest guy in the world. The film enters another dark stage when Pete and Alice head to an abandoned cabin to fool around; Pete transforms back into Fred and discovers Mr. Eddy having sex with Renee. In a rage, Fred kills Mr. Eddy, the film concluding on a cop car chase as Fred flies down a highway.

For someone unaware of this twist, Lost Highway makes for a bizarre experience. The film contains many of the ideas and themes Lynch’s previous work has tackled; that said, Lost Highway is a bigger venture into dream logic (equally on par with Twin Peaks). Lynch has proven mastery over dream logic filmmaking; as the viewer, you enter Lost Highway on an already unsettling note, the disturbing tension maintaining a consistent hum throughout the narrative. When the film takes on its major plot shift, it is shocking, causing the viewer to feel as if they’ve missed something and that there is more at play behind the scenes. The film taps into numerous kinds of horror; while there is that use of gritty violence found in Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks, one can also read into Lost Highway’s dream logic as Fred attempting to escape the anger and pain he feels in killing Mr. Eddy and his wife cheating on him (respectively).

Unlike Lost Highway, Mulholland Drive takes much longer to enter its major narrative shift; we spend more time with Naomi Watts’ Betty and Laura Harrings’ Rita before the actors change character. Trying to learn more about a mysterious Diane Selwyn, we later on see Watts play the role of Diane. Most of Mulholland Drive roams about in a fog of mystery; numerous unexplained details come the viewer’s way, including a cowboy who speaks little sense at first. Similar to Lost Highway, it takes time to sit with the story of Mulholland Drive and process all that is happening.

What helps to build upon the film’s tension are its sprinkled oddities. Whether it is the otherworldly being behind the diner or the emotional performance at Club Silencio, there are many elements of Mulholland Drive that are unclear. Part tragic love story and part psychological-horror, the mystery behind each plot point leads the film towards a sad, hellish conclusion.

Depending on how you read the film, one can view Watt’s Betty as the being Diane wishes to be; after the character shift takes place, we see friction between Diane and Camilla (Laura Harrings’ character), whereas before they were friends and lovers (as Betty and Rita). Unlike Betty, Diane comes off as drained and suffering; at the end, as Diane stews in her misery, she is chased by an elderly couple, screaming throughout her home before she takes her life. Reading Mulholland Drive in this manner has the dream portion of the story as the beginning and middle, with the final act being the reality of our characters. Diane is striving to escape her life, thus tossing herself into an imaginary world where she is a hero and in love.

Through the dream logic of his narratives, Lynch allows for a profound connection between his characters and the viewer. As we enter Diane’s “dream” and absorb Betty’s journey, we are unaware of Lynch misguiding us; in this same sense, Diane is also so invested in her “dream,” she is unaware of the reality she truly exists in. Through this point-of-view, Lynch filters information to both the viewer and character, keeping everyone equally in the dark. When he then begins revealing details, each twist is more profound in its shock and upset.

Henry, Isabella, Laura, Fred, and Diane all share a significant element – they are all tragic individuals. Lynch’s stories read as nightmares for each of these people. Lynchian characters and narratives intertwine to offer existential madness where said characters cannot escape.

As a master of the psychological art house, David Lynch’s voice also speaks to the horror genre. His monsters and ghouls are the secrets and evil that hide within people and behind closed doors. His stories are not about overcoming obstacles, but what it means to live a life of hell. His craft taps into the existential that appears normal at first, but slowly unravels to reveal grime and terror. Not only is the art of David Lynch that of surreal nightmares, but a representation of how horror is woven through the existential fabrics of life.