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FI LM AN O CULTU RE A ; ,.,.,t'j 'lC"I/I/'///<I r 11,/ mly Pre..-.' Edll~' b\' jU//i /;, //1,,,

What Madc Pislachio NI/ti ? Farly Sound \!,f,,,lramu und Mudan;ty; l:ar/I' Sell,""'/'''!.d
Comedy ami/he [la /ldn,i!le Aeilhetic '/IIt'mrl .11"/ {IJ COflfl'X'- SEN SI~Gtk
HENRY JENKINS HUJJdrmu 1)~({t TtCIJ( COlrlo l , J" ~/11,t"J~ I

Show,'/oppers: Busby Be'-kele)' al1d Ihe ,lIId l il1l1 uf ,h, .{ , /JlU' UIIII ti!'"
Traduio" ofSpeclade MARTIN RUBIN AL. ISON GRIFFITHS
Projuliofls of War: Hollywood, Americal/ fJ c:.'flf," (hl(1 1/,,/llb"HH1 1',-I/t( 1, /I,,, ','.Ii, (1 1;,1

C" II/lre, anti World War [/ }'ro/'IJJ!.ootiu in llll \ lfll. Jt:J.

THO MAS DOHERTY LO U IS PI ZZ ITOLA

LAugh il1g Screamiflg' Modero Hollywood \1,UClIlint' J/lkln/.. J / U/)}fJd'U/h n
Horror and Comedy WILLlAM PAU L
LAughing Hysterically; Amn -ican Screen
Comedyoflhe 195S ED SIKOV
/1,(11)''''(1'''/ Fti",
,'\ru '/,/ )(" ,.: '\';11." \,,'"
11 '111'/"1
ROBERT lAN'~

MICHELE PIFRSON
.1, ,,( TH E impossible
Primitill<' Pas..-iollS: Vua lity, SexualilY, l Jt.:ifgnIl,l.,' . 1,[ /), r lid

DAVID LYN CH
If .'0 1Htll {'UUIIOI,

Elhnography, a"d COlllemporar)' Chillese /h,- Ft'llItllc Form LUCr FI~CH~k

Ci/1e1l1a REY CH OW Cold War, Cool \f..dw/1/ '1 '/'1"1"""',
The Cinema ofiv!ax Ophuls: Magis/erial :\.1cCurth)'jm, dlldlll/(I/(.III ( '/lfltlle
Visio" a'nd the F.gure of Woman TH OM AS DOHERTY
SUSAN M_ WHlTE Ka rharlll" [-(,pilltll, ' .\r." ,l. ;,.mini,,1
Black Women a" Cuu ural Rl!tUiers AN DREW BRITTON
JACQUELlNE BOBO Si/mI FIII/I '\"111,,1 RICK AL.T MAN
Piclu";.ng japa ne~"ess: Monumental Slyle,
Naullalldentily, japanese Film
1-f()1/1< in Ho l/),/('ood' rhe fmagi1ltlry
Geogral'l.)' (Jf Hollywood
TODO McGOWA N
DARRELL WILLlAM DA VI S ELlSABETH BRONFEN
Atlack ofthe Leading LAdies: Gender, Hollywood and the Cuilure Elile; HOl(J the
Sexuality, und SpeaalOr.,hip ill Classic "fo ll;e; Bnamr: American
Horro,. Cinema PETER DECHERNEY
RHONA J. BERENSTEIN Tait/Ja fl Film Director.c 1I Tr~a,'urt: Jiland
Th Mad Masquerade: Sla/dom alld EM ILIE YUE H-YU YEH
Masculinily in the ja;:;", Age AND DARRELL WILLl AM DAV IS
GAYLYN STUDLAR Shocl(;ng Rcpresm/aliol1: HU/arica/
Sexual Polies a",1 Narrativ, Film: Trauma, Natiotla l Cinema,
Hollywood alld Beyol1d ROBIN WOOD and rhe Modern Horror Film
Th e Soul1ds ofCommerce: Marketing Popular ADAM LO WEN STEIN
Film Music JEFF SMITH Ch'w O" Ser",.,,.. C'n-m" dlld .'\/,.ullm
Onoll Wd[e.<, Shal(e.<pearc', alld Popular CHRIS 8E RRY A N D MARY FAR QU HAR
Culture MICHAEL AN DEREGG The Nc-w r'-" ropeJ/1 Cinema. Redrdu'lII/!, r/e
Pre-Code Hollywood: Sex, [mmol'(]lily, Map RO SA lI ND G ALT
and h1Jurrectlon in A,nt",.icall Cinema, Georgc G J llup in Ho ll ywood
1930-- 1934 THOMAS DOHE RTY SUSAN OH MER
Sound Tuhnology an d ,he American Cul1la: Elec/r' Souflds: 'fedm%gical Ch(ltJgt: alld
Perccplon, Rcpresm/arm, Modemit tlr,. 1?1S<' lit Cr"'P0mrc' Mllss Media
JAM ES LAS TR A STEV E J. WU RTl LER

~ \,.J I ti M" I A 11 H I Y I /I~, i T... tJ WI ', ", NlW YO'I(

e ~ol ul11biJ U nivt rt; ity Prl.: SS For J)a shicl l and Thco Ncroni, who allowed me
I'"blishn s Silla 1893 to uno crstand l,'rag '-,' cad
',,' w Y'Jr k Chich c...q cr, Wcst Susse l:

'"pyright G) 200 C.olumbi a- U nl vers iry Prcss

\11 right, l <,slTved

. l.l:tr y ofC'..ungrcss C" 13 lol!i ng- in -Public"tion Data

\leGo\\'.n , Todd.
Th o imp"" ible Da,id Lr nch I TodJ MeGow. n
p. cm. - (Film "nd cullure)

In d ud es bibliog ra phi GIi 'eferellces "nd index o

rSBN- '3: 978 0-23'. 13954-0 (c1",h : . Ik. pa per)

rSBN- lo: O-'3l-13954-3 (c1orh: olk . paper)

- ISBN 0-23 1- 13955 -1 (pbk . : :d k. p.lper)

[. Lynch, O;.\Vid, 19-1 6- - C ri(icisrn ;.l lld

in lcrprc;t:Hion. I. Tirlt:. 11. St: ri t." s.

P N I ~3 L96:-' I34 2007

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olumbiJ Uni vc::rsit y Prcss bo(}k~ !1ft printed on

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Prima l in ch e U nitcd St3H':Sof Ame ricJ.

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CONTENTS

A e K N o W LEo G M EN T S IX

INTROD UCTlON T he Bi za rre N atu re of N o rmality

ONE Sac rificing One's Head for an E raser 26

TWO Thc Integration oC th e Impossible O bject in

The E/ephant Man 49

THREE Dunc and (he Patn to Salvat ion 68

FOUR Fa nrasizing the Fa ther in Blue Ve/vet 90

FIVE The Absence of Desire in Wild al Hearr

11 0

SIX Tw Peaks: Fire Walk with Me

and Identification with the Object 12 9

SEVEN Findi ng O ursclvcs OD :l Los! Highway 154

EIGHT T he Eth ics o f Fantasizing in Th e Straight Story 177

NINE Naviga ting Mulholland Drive, Da vid Lyn ch's

P an egy ric to Holl ywood 194

CONCLUSION T hc E th ics of Fa ntasy 220

N OTES 22 5

IN o ex .!~'I

VII
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to th e Unive rsiry of Texas Press for permitting me to reprint

material that nrst appeareJ iD Ci nema Joum a!. Much of chapter 7orig
jnaUy appean:~d as "Fin di ng O urselves on a Lost High way: Da vid
Lyn ch's Lesson in Fantasy," Cinema joumal39.2 (W in te r 2000): 51 -73,
and m uch oE chapter 9 appeared as "Lost on Mulholland Dril/e: Na vi
gating David Lynch's Panegyric to Hollywood," Cinema joumal 43.2
(Winter 2004) : 67-89, copyrig ht 2000 an d 2004 by the Uni versiry of
Texas P ress; all rights rese rved.
r owe a trem endous debt [O Juree Sondker at Colum bi a U ni versi ty
Press for having faith in the book even when tbis faith seemed mis
placed, and to Roy Thomas for h is carefu l wor k o n the manuscript.
T ha nks to Dashiel l an d T heo Ncroni, for sitting patiently while 1
ri rse com posed many of the chapte rs, and for proviJing relief when 1
wasn't composing anything.
Many of th e ideas in this book were renned o ver two sumille r
c(jur~es, du ring whicb [he contributions of many students, including
rhose of Cate Racek , Sara Bumen, Carl y Ma rino, a nd ]onathan San
horn owere l:xtre mely helpful.
Itan b ro E l~abc th Bronfe n, w hose thoughtfuI comments on the

IX
manuscript allovved me to see the overall direction of the argument in
a new light.
1 would l ike to thank Ken Rcin hard for putting together the Semi
nar on Experimental Critical T heory in the summer of 2004, which in
formed the d irection of my thoughts on L ynch and allowed me the op
portuni ty to present w hat ultimately developed into the conclusion of
this boo k.
Slavoj Ziie k provided an insightful read ing of tbe m a nuscript, an d
his w ork has remained the starting point and the end point for m y ap
proach to Lynch.
THE impossible D AVI D LY NC H

My conve rsaxions with David Jenemann allowed me to anticipate

many of the potential objections to the arguments ad vanced bere.
Anna Kornbluh was instrumental in advancing my though t and
helpi ng me to work through many of the issues of the book.
Q uentin Martin also helped me to develop my thinking on Lynch.
T hanks to Sarah N ilsen and Jean W yatt for their consci entiolls an al
ysis of significant portions of the book and for highlighting its most
dogma tic moments.
I owe a buge debt ro Pb il Poster fo r reviewing th e book in l rough
fo rm and for helping m e to construct a first intclligible draft.
r app rcci ate Da niel N orford's careful reading of rhe m anuscr ipt.
Myles Jewell provided a deta iled read ing th at belped highlight all
me places where tbe book w as n't clear.
Thanks ro Vin ney Cavallo fo r tbe subtlc suggestions th at made this
a muc h more read able and accu rate work.
F inall y, thanks to Wa lter Davis, Panl E isenste in, a nd HiJary Neroni,
w ho havc informed everything I th ink about Lynch and have ac
quaintcd th cmselves so tho ro ug hly ,vitb this book that they have al
mos l w ri tten it themseJ ves.

X ACK N OWLEOGEMEN TS
INTRO DUCT ION T he Bizarre Nature ofNormality

Wotching from a Distance

The g reatness of a work of art depends on its abili ty ro transform the

:lUJience. As Rilke form ulates ir in his poem "The A rcha ic Torso of
Apallo," the great work of art tell s us that we have to change our lives.'
1f one accepts this defin irion, ir immediatdy rh rows the idea of a great
film un o d oubt. Though we may pro ject oursel ves ioro filmic na rra
tives thro ug h idcntification w ith lhe cam era ur w ith ch aracters, the
ilmitations of [he medi um m ean mat the film we are watching never
Sees us and never add resses us directly. Perhaps this is wh y Orson
We lles insists that "no movie that w ill ever be made is worthy of being
c1iscussed in th e same b rea rh lwith one of Shakespeare's plays]."2 One
doesn't simply watch a play; as an audience me m ber, one is part of the
pt!rformance--Dr at east one has the possibil ity of seeing haw the per
formance takes its aucl ience into accou n t. A play from Shakespeare can
.\dd ress its aud ience members directly a ncl demand tha t th ey change
ther Qwn lives ba sed on what t ranspi res on the stage. For their part,
novcls invol v~ their reade rs by demandi ng an imaginativ e act that com
pletes the artwork . Bur .he cinema is predicated on the distancc that m e
vcwing silU;J tinn tcnds to creare hetwee n spectators and wh at they see
IIIl tite \crnn.
 Spec ta tors wa tch fmm a d ista ncc; they watch the screen images from
a position that ens ures the ir lack of d irect involvement in what they see.
In contrast wi th attend ing a play, watching a film, as numerous film the
orists have noted, allow$ us a high degree of anonymity. Much of the ap
pea l of film spectatorship stems fro01 our ability to watch filmic events
without being seen. T hc uni d irectional view ing situation permits the
spectator ro remain safe within rhe anonymity of darkness.3
The distance between screen an cl spectator becomes a more signifi
cant problem inso fa r as it so often rem ai ns unperceived amid the illu
sory presence of screen images and events . Through identification with
the camera and characters, the spectator attains a sense of proximity
and involvement with what transpires on the screen. When watching a
film, one often feels oneself in a position internal to the events rather
than externa!. But this proximity is imaginary, proximity from a dis
tance, and the distance allows the spectator to avoid any encounter in
the cinema that migilt challenge or alter the spectator's subjectivity.
Any experience of a film's immediacy is a thoroughly mediated one be
cause characters 00 screen remain seen but never see while the specta
tor sees without being seen.
From his first feature craserhead (1977) through each of his subse
quent films, m e fi lms of David Lynch present a challenge to this view
ing situation. The great achievement of his films lies in their ability ro
break clown the clistance ber ween spectator and scree n. Rather than
permitting the im aginary proximity that dom in a tes in m ainstream cin
ema, Lynch's fil m s implicate tb e spectator in their very structure. Tb e
structure of a Lynch film altas the cinema tic viewing situation itself
and deprives tbe spectator of the u nd erlying sense of remain ing at a
safe distance from what tak es place on the screen. Lynch incl udes cine
matic momcnts that force the spectalor to beco me aware of how th e
film itself takes into account the spectator's desire. His films confront
one with sequences that rl: \ eal one's own ir:vestment in what one sees.
Ir is in this sense that Lynch is "weird" : one cannot watch a Lynch
film in the way that (lne watches a standard Hollywood film nor in the
way that one watches most radical films. The structure of a Lynch film
challenges the spectator's tradirional experience of the cinema just as it
engages and challenges the history of film tb eory. The aim of th is book
is ro take up that challenge an cl to pursue the th eo retical possibilities
presented to us in Lynch 's films.
THf; IMPOSSIBlE DAVID lYNCH
Lynch's challenge to spectators departs significantly from tb_e ap
proach that dominates radical cinema, which consists in enhancing the
spectator's sen se of distance fr(lm events on the screen rather than e1im
ina ting it. This approach has informed not just ho\\' alternative film
ma kers construct their films but al so how theorists have conceived
the possibility of a radical cinema. To unoerstand Lynch's uniquencss
as a filmmaker, we must first examine the alternative that his films
defy.
Psychoanalytic film theor,ists in the late 1960s and I~:!70S such as
C hristian Metz and ]ean-Louis Haudry were a ttuned ro cinema's ahility
to create spectators who watch at a distance without at the same time
hav ing any awareness of this distance. They saw this vievving situation
as the primary way in which cin ema functioneo ideologicalIy to aid in
subject.ing spectators. \\Thile watching a film, as Metz puts it, "it is al
ways the other who is on the screcn; as for me, 1 am there to look at him.
T tak e no part in tb e perceived, on the contrary, 1 am al1-perceiving. All
perceiving as one says all-powerful (this is the famous gift of'ubiquity'
m e film gives its specta tor); all -percei vi ng, too, beca use 1 am entirely on
che side ufthe pcrccivi ng instance."4 The act of wa tchi ng a film, acco rd
ing to th is way o f thinki ng, is a on c-way ex pe rience in w hich the specta
tor bas no in volvement in what is visible on che screen. By leav ing the
specta tor jn th is si tuation of being "all-perceiving," the cinema allows
the specta tor to expe rience the combination of distance from an d prox
im ity to the screen events. a combinaron th at permits the spectator to
be simulcaneo usl y involved and noto
lusofar as it works to sustain spectator d istance, rhe cinema seems
fu ndamen ta lly voye uristic. As Lau ra Mul vey notes, "the extreme con
tms t betwecn tbe darkness in the auditorium (wh ich also isolated the
spcctators from one another) and the brilli ance of the shifting patterns
of ligh t and shade on th e screen helps to prom ote the illusion of voy
eu ristic separaron."5 M ulvey is careful to note here that the separation
or distance inhe re nt in cinematic voyeurism (and in voyeurism as SU'h)
is usory. W 'hy? The thrill of voyeurism depends on a fundamental
filu re o f self-recognition. T be voyeur believes that she/he is looking at
a sceIle tbat sim ply exists in itself and th at has oot been constructed for
halhis look. Hence, the voyeur can see otbers in their private world,
wh:u cx ists lX' l1c:llh tbeir public face, and the voyeur's enjoyment de
rives f rol1l ,ccing liti s private wor ld . This utte rly private OJoment
IN rRO DUCTlO N
would be, in the thinking of the voyeur, what others were rcally like ,
how they appea r when no one is looking.
But when che voyeur looks on this private moment, what shclhe
mi sses is its structured na ture. E ve n the most intimate l110ments in our
lives structure themselves arouad a puhlic look, even when that look is
absent. The suhject in a private moment continues, al beit most often
unconsciously, to act and presen t her/himself for an imagined 100k. 6
We per form our in timate acuvi ties in ways that confirm a certain idea
we have of ourselves, and m is self-image implies an external look
what Freua calls an ego idea l-that apprehends it. The implicit on
look e r gives m eaning and structure to the private activity. Without the
implicit on looker or ego ideal, \Ve would hav e no sense of how to act in
private, no method for organizing our private lives) In short, the scene
that the voycu r witnesses is always a scene created for the look of the
voye ur, ond this is what the voyeur cannot seco
There is something fundamentally disappointing about voycurism:
it never sees w hat it's looking ror hllt instead sces J moment created for
its look. The strllctured natllre of the private mOlllent is most cmphati
cally true in the case of ci nema: we ca nnot even imagine a film not or
gani zed around the look of a spectator, and yet this is prec isely w ha t
most fil ms-and , just as impo rta ntly, most spectators-attempt to dis
avow. In rbis sense, the fi lm itself does look back at the spectators inso
far as its very structure takes their dcsire as spectators into accoun t.
There is no film that has becn made not to be seen. 8
W hi le wa tch ing a fi lm, especially a typica l Holly wood fi lm , the spec
tator does not experiencc he r/himself playing a role in th e eve nts. T hey
happen-the film plays-and the spectator s.impl y looks on. What be
com es masked in th is situation is the structuring dynam ic behind the
events: w ha r (he spectator sees on the screen is not sim ply there to be
secn, but crea ted specificalIy with the spectator's loo k in m ind. Every
event on the screen a nticipares a spectator who completes it through the
act of wa tching. Rather than being llninvol ved with a nd distanced from
th e even ts 00 the screen, the spcctator is fu 11 y enm eshed. 9
Not ooly d oes the com bina tion of distance a nd p roximity inform the
cinematic view ing siwation irself, but ir also informs the societal atti
tud e ro che cinema as such. Spectato rs kee p the cincma itself at a dis
lance by consig ning ir te> tbe rea lm of fan la sy alld ~n'i ll '; i l : I~ :1 place of
escape from lheir dail y rea li ty. [f we try In Ihill" tlllllIl~ 1t '''' _ di ~'l ,r bil1g
TII E IM POSS IOL E 0""' 1[) I YNCH
or traunutic naturc of a film we have seen, we often hear-or even say
to ourselves- that "it's just a movie." Th e common practice of critics
calling hit films "grea t rides," as if the cinema were ao amusement
park, fits into this pattern of distancing. [f we conceive of the cinema
solely as an escape, thcn we dissociate ourselvcs from what takes place
there. O ne goes to the cinema for fun, for release, but never for an ex
perience that migh t impact one's real life. E\'cn films that don't promise
fun in thc traditional sense-likc MonJter (Patty Jenkins, 2003) or
Schindler's L t (Steve n Spiel be rg, 1993)--offer us a glimpse of a foreign
world tha r we tend to see as ha ving no rdation to our own.
At the sam e time that spectators relega te cinema to the status of an
escape, they also accept the rea lity of w hat they see in the cinema. Spec
tatoes distance themselves from the cinema and its effects by acknowl
edging its purel y fantasmatic status, and yet when they go to the cin
ema, they take the images on the screcn seriously. As spectators, we
Lend to end ow fi lm w ith what Joe! Black calls the "reality effect." Ac
cord iag to Black, "one of film's key effccts has been to provide viewers
with a kind of enhanced, X-ray vision tha t all ows them t feel that they
can penet rate che veil of supcr.ficial appea rances and see the hidden
structu re of reality ir.sclf."'" T he a bility to "see the h idden structure of
reality itself" is, ofcoursc , false, bu t it nooetheless infor ms tbc na ture of
m e cin ematic experience. As a result, the "escape" from rea lity-the
cinema itself- bccomes the priv ileged si te fol' d etermi_ning the way in
whi ch rhe subject unde rstands thar reali ty.
Jean-Luc Godard as Alternativa
In re ~ ponse lO the situa tion of tbe cinematic spectator, radicall theorists
and fi lmm akers of the 1960s and r970s called for a cinema that es
chewed th e im agi nary proxirnity of the typical Hollywood film and
[oreed spectators to recogru ze their alienation. Thcy adopted an ap
proach to the cinema that m irrored Bertolt Brecht's approach to the
rheater. In his politici zed theater, Brecht wants to produce detached
spectato rs wh o are aware of mci r detachm ent and in no \Vay prone to
idenrifi cation with w hat happens on stage. As Brecht puts it, "The es
scntial poia t of the cpi c theatre is perhaps that it appeals less to the feel
ings !.han rh(" spectator's rea sull. lnstead of sharing an cxper ience the
spectJtor mu st C()mc LO g rips w ith th ings." 11 Brecht's spectator watches
I NrrRO o u C,T ION
from a distance but always remains aware thal shelhe watches from a
distance, which is what distinguishes his spectator from the traditional
cinematic spectator. In order to facilitate greater understanding on the
spectator's part, Brecht's theater challenges spectators to experience
their actual social position without its fantasmatic rerricve.
Transferring Brecht's theoretical innovations from the theater to the
cinema, film theorists and filmmakers embraced a filmm a king style
tha t foreg rounded spectator distance fmm the activities on the screen
a nd took up what Brecht calls the "alienati(ln-effect." l o the same essay
io which she denounces classical Hollywood cinema's use of imaginary
proximity, Laura Mulvey chamrions precisely this type of response:
The first blow against the monolithic accumulation of traditional
film conventions (already unde rtaken by radical film-makers) is to
free the look (lf the camera into its materiality in time and spaee
and the look of the audience into dialectics, passionate detachment.
There is no doubt that this destroys the satisfaction, pleasure and
privikge of the "invisible guest," and highlights how fi lm depended
on voyeuristic acti ve/rassi ve mechani sm s. J2
Mulvey's goal for radical filmm aking- "passionate d etachment"-is a
state in which the spectator thinks rather than hlindly id enti fies. Mul vey
ehamrions films that privilcge the symbolic situatedness o f the specta
tor--or, as Christian Merz puts ir, fi lms that "attempt to disengage the
cinema-object from the imaginary and to w in it for the symbolic." '3
T his allusion to psychoanalytic theorist Jacques Lacan 's categories of
experience-the imagi na ry and the sym bolic-provides anothe r way
of undcrstanding the relation ship betwecn proximi ty and distance in
the cinema. The symbolic order, fo r Lacan, is the order ofla nguage and
society: it provides the structure that organizes our social rcal ity and
crea tes the identities that we inhabit. This order underlies the visible
world and thus rem ai ns la rgely invisible, though its laws determine
much of what happens in the visible ",orld . It functions through ah
sence, shaping our li ves in wa)'s that \\ie remain unaware of. What we
see, in contrast, is the imaginar)', a world of images that appear to be
immediately presento The imaginary deceiv es us imofar as ir hides the
underlying symbolic structure that urholds it. f nr i n~ t;lI1 cc. lhe imag e
of an authority figure. as a gcnuincly carill..\ IlI"f'" I I. l \l"1 ir ir b lrue,
T'-IE 'MP OSS ' BLE DAVID LYN C II
mas ks the Jomination that inheres in he rlh is very symbolic positio n as
an authority figur e. Shelhe appears warm and accessible, but this oh
s cure~ the symbolic, structu ra 1 distance betwee n th e authority figure
and us as ord ina ry subjects. Exposing rhe symbolic authority be nea th
Lhe imag inary g uise becomes a political proj ect. Similarly, theorists like
M ulvey a nd Metz w a nt to lay ba re che symb<Jlic structure of the cinema
by confronti ng th e imag ina ry mode in w hich we experience it.
A ccording to m ese theorists, making spectators awa re of their dis
tance from tb e events on the screen represcn ts the only possi bili ty fu r an
:llte rnative cinema. The atte mpt to go the other way-to iocrease tbe
spectator's sense of proxi mi ty and eli m inate the spectator's sym bolic
dista nce-cannot succeed. Distan ce is, for tbese theorists, the sine qua
non of the cinematic experi ence, a nd proximi ty is a lways an illusion
that attempts to hide thi s fun da m ental fact o f the cinema. Filmmak e rs
can struggle against the im aginar)' proximi ty th at the cine ma crea tes,
but they can't do an ym ing about the distance thar ex ists bctwee n the
spectato r and the screen w hi ch is the resul t of th e facts of film ex hibi
tio n and cven the social o rder itse\f. Layers of mediati on sepa rare the
specta to r from the events l film depicts. T he ecanomic sys tem that pro
duces the film, tbe directo r's visiono the technologica l a ppa ratus lh at
Jisplays the fil m-lh ese fo rces a nd others mediate w hat m e spectator
sees 011 the screen , and one cannot si m ply elim inale them .
Th is is w h y Constance Penley takes issue w ith supposed radical film
makers who attempt to rely so lely o n ra dical images to shoc k spectato rs
nto change. Such filrnmakers, according to Pen ley, ioev itably contrib
ute lO the very cinematic fa~cinatio n and imagina ry blin d nes~ that they
setout to con tes t. T his is beca use, ac w rding to Penlcy, "Jmages have ve ry
little a na lyrical powc r in them sel vcs; their power of identificatian and
fascinatian is too strong. T his is w hy there must alw ays be a commentary
Oll the image simul taneousl y w ith the com mcntary of and with them." '4
Peoley 's criti que he re call s for a film maker w ho wo uld forsa ke the fa lse
lmmediacy of the cinem atic imaginary fo r a filmm a king style that high
lighted the symbolic mediatian alw a ys at work but unperceived in the
cine m aric experience. The m ost prom inent filmm aker who embodies
lhis theorerical aspirati on is und o ubted ly Jean-Luc Godard (though it
predomi na tes l.hroughout avant-ga rde cine ma).15
G oJ<l rd', films cr)nstantly remi nd the spectator that she/ he is w atch
ing J fi lll1. By duillg Ihi~, he aims to b reak the fa scinating powc r o fth e
I N ' ~OD U C T I ON
cinema over the spectator and create awareness of the process that pro
duces the events on the screen, thereby facilitating a more thoughtful
engagement betwee n the spectator and the film -a more dialectical ex
perience. As Pascal Bonitzer notes, "the image, since GoJard, has been
affirmed as resolutely false."16 Even as early in his career as A Bout de
souffle (Brea thless , 1960), the jump cuts and self-conscious allusions to
other films have an aliena ti ng effect that highlights the constructed na
ture of the image. As he develops as a filmmak er, however, this quality
becomes more pronounced (in films such as Vivre sa vie IMy Life to Live,
19 62 ], Les Carabznzs [The Rifleme12 , 19(,31, and Pierrot lelou [19651). Le
MpriJ (Contempt, 1963), for instance, begins with a long tracking shot
of a tracking shot being shot by the actual cameraman for the film while
we hear the film's credits rcad aloud. This beginning confronts the
spectator with visual evidence that hreaks down any illusion of proxim
ity to the events that will follow. Ir signals to the spcctator that the
events are not real and are, in fact, thoroughly med,i ated.
Later in the 19605, Godard develops this aesthetic fu rther in Week Hnd
(19 67), wherc we see shots oftex t intersperscJ at points in the film intcr
rupting an cxtraordinarily long tracking shot. [n addition, the second
half of the film completely unravels the narrati vc structure that opens
the film, thereby demanding that the spectator recogni ze the cOl1str ucteJ
nature ofme filmic narrati ve- anJ of all filmic narrative. The viewer of
Week F:nd constantly has her/ his immed iate rda tion to the film inter
rupted by blatant intrusions of media tion. T hi s film, lik e almost all of
Godard 's films, aims to eliminate the halluci nato ry proxi mi ty chat seem s
to inhere in the cinematic situation and t allow th e speccator to wa tch
from a distance. 1n doing so, m ese films work to strip away the lie of the
cinema, to make it a 1e5S fantasmatic experience. Goda rd 's subsequent
films move cven more raJically in this direction. His aim remai ns con
stant: alienating the spectator into a proper g rasp of cinematic distance.
Goda rd wants to create a ci nema of mediation as part ofa struggle against
Hollywood and bourgeois id eology's illusion ofimmediacy.
The hope underl ying this type of cinema is actually a fundamentally
anti-cinematic one. Ir aims to use the cinema t assist the spectator in
transcending the cinema's fascination. The ideal specta tor for this alter
native cinema will escape the seduction of fanta~ y a mi thu s be able to
see the actual structure of the cinema a mI (Ir Sll~ l'l y il ~l1 r. T h:l t is. the
ideal subject will see th e real ty Oflhl" p l"l ll llll 11111 1 I IIIl :~' r:l1 her rha n
THE IMP OS $ IBLE D AV I D LYNCl~1
th e fascinating comrnoJities that disguise this proccss. By accomplish
ing this, th e spectator will be on tbe way to becoming l raJical suhject
ready to cha nge existing social relations beca use this spectator will no
longer be blin d to the way tbings rea lly are. Idea lly, such a spectator
wiJl overcome commodity fetishism itself, in wh ich, according t Ma rx's
famous form L1lation, "a definite social relati on between men ... as
sum es ... the fanrastic form of a rdation hetween things."17 By expos
ing the im age as constructcd, as the product of l "definire social rela
tion," Godard's films attack this form of fascination at a site (the cin
ema) where it usually predominates. G rasping one's alienation in the
cinema would become the key, ultimately, to revolutionizing capital.ist
society.
The problem wi th the attempt lO create l spectator whom the cin
ema does not seduce is its tacit assumption: it imagines that th e specta
tor can attain apure view ing position. Th e Brechtian aesthetic forgets
about the d esire of the spectator and fails to see haw desire necessarily
impli ca tes the spectato r in what occurs 00 th e screen. Even though dis
tance s inherent n th e ci nema tic viewing situa tion itself, no spectato r
can remain completc\y d istanced, evcn from a G oda rd film . Some e1c
ment or fascin ation remains at work and continues to i.ovol vc the spec
tator in m e i mages on th e screen--oy e/se the spectator would simply walk
out 01 the film. In othe r words, a film's alien ation-effect has to fail to
sorne extent in order fo r the fil m to retain th e desire o f ts spectators.
Thc sLlccessfuJly d istanced specta to r ccases t be a spectator at all.
The impossbil ity of rhe pure spectator condemns rhe Brechrian aes
m etic to an une nding pursuit, but d oes n't necessarily ind icate that the
pursu it itself is \.vrong beaded. T he deeper problem with me opposition
to cinema tic fascinar on les in ts conception of .vhat moti va tes politi cal
activ ity ancl change. T his position contenJ s that knowleclge itself
seeing how things reall y are, how the procluction process really \Vorks,
ete.-has a ra J icali zing effccr on spectators and su bjects in general. Ac
co rru ng to this view, subjects accept their subjection to an oppressi ve
social ord er only because they fail lO recogni ze that an e1eme nt of fasci
nation has Juped them into this acceptance. Thus, the th inking goes, if
we remove me fascination and expose the rclations of production as
they actuall y :lrt~. we w ill produce radical subjects. But kn owledge
vvirhour dl'~ i n d<les nut in herentl y crea te politi cal sub jects. Contempo
r:H y (;1 pi 1;11 ,,1 .II( 11'1 Y 1h rives on th(.: pa rtici paliun or su n jects who sce
111l_c\O IJ " ' I U N .,
through the prcv ailing ideology and yet continue to obey.1H For in
stance, \Ve continue ro cnjoy the gratuiwus sex scene in IVaYlle'J fVorld
(Penelope Sp heeris, 1992) even when a su'btitle labels it as such, or \Ve
continue to suppon wars even when we see through the deceptive ra
tionale g iven for them. Subjects aclopt a position of cynical distance in
which the tra nsparency of th e game becomes pan of the game itself. 1n
this sense, a cinema that emphasi zes distancing the spcctator only plays
into the hand of contempora ry ideology.
The further lacu na in the Brechtian aesthetic is its inability to con
sider a motivarion for political change \vithin fascination itself. Though
fascination accommodates subjects to their subjection, it also has the
ability ro encourage them to challenge that subjection . This is beca use
fantasy as such em erges in order to cover up a teal gap within ideology
or the symbolic ord er. Lacan uses the ter m "real" as a third category of
cxperience (in addition to imaginar)' and symbolic) to indicate the in
complctcness of the symholic structure, its fa ilure ro constitute itself as
a coherent w hole. Ideology use s fantasy to shore up its point of greatest
weakness- the point at w hich its explanations of social phenomena
brea k dow n-and tbis injects a potential radicality into every fantasy
that proponcnts ofthe B rechtian aesthetic fal tosee. In the act of decry
ing fan tasy as an im agina ry manipul ation, the proponents of a di stanc
ing cinema fa il to see the real moment w ithin every fa nta sy. It is this
m om ent that th e fi lm s of David L yn ch em p hasize.
The Proximity of David Lynch
Dav id Lynch began m aki ng films at the Pennsylvan ia Acad emy ofFine
Arts in Ph iladelphia, w here he initial ly we nt to beco me a painter. His
first film , Six Figures Gettillg Sick (1967), w hich he made there, lasts one
minute and repea ts on a continuous loop. A fter directing a four-minute
foll ow-up film, T he Alphabet (1968), he moved t Los Angeles, w here
he attended th e Am erican F il m I nstitute and made a 34-minurt' fi ,lm
entitl eJ The Grandmother (1970). E ach of these early shorts evinced
,y nch's interest in using film as a fantas 01atic m edium, but it is The
Gral/dmother that inaugurated thc fundam ental ;1 csthct ic stru cture d1at
wou ld dom inate Lynch's fealU re fil ms. In [972. l..ynch rl'~c i vl' d $ro.ooo
fr om MI to make EI"I.JScrhead ([ 977), wh idl II( prn pllwd as another
short. After five year~ ofprep m cluc tillll, ~llIttllill ':. Il1d 1 1I1~l pr()du ctio n ,
10 [H E I MPQSS IBLE DAVI J) ,Y NC H
it became Lynch's first feature, bcgin ning a carecr in the cinema that
stands out likc no other.
Lynch's distincti ve ness stems from his ability to exist withi.n main
stream cinema and independen t cinema simultaneously. His fiLms of
ten show at the local multiplex , and he has received three Academy
Award nominaLons for Bes t D irector (for The F:!ephant Alan 119 80 1,
Blue Velve! [1986], and Muiholland Orive [200rJ). Hc is not simply a di
rector cel ebrated at Can nes and ignored in Los Angeles. But his films
also challenge vi ewers in ways that few Othcr widel}' distributed films
do. They contain d istur bing imagcs (l ike the sexual assault of Lula
[L aura D ernJ in Wild at Heart 11990)), narrative confusion (Iike the
trans form ation of the main character into someone else in the middle of
Lost High way Ir9971), and un usual shot sequences (Iike the opening
montage in Blue Velvet). Lynch's films do not always receive a we!come
reception al1l ong critics or the public, but the bare fact that ,films such
as his gain widesprcad attention ar all is startling . .
This book is an attem pt ro come to terms with the incongmity of
Ly nch's positio n w ithin coIltemporary cinema and to link this incon
g rui ty w ith t he acsthetic that Lynch develops in hi s films. Lynch 's work
has occasioned sorne important work s of critic ism, including Michcl
C hi on 's David Lynch (BFT, 1995) and Sta voj Zizc k's T he Ridiculous
Sublime: On David Lynch\ "Lost Highway" (Uni versity of Wash ington
Prcss, 2000), bu t only one book -lc ng th stud y dcaling wi th L ynch's films
fro m a sustaincd theo retical perspective- Ma rtha Nochimson's The
PassiorJ ol DavId L )I11c1I: Wild al Heart in Hollywood (Uni versity of
exas P ress, 1997)19 For N och il1lson, Lynch is the poe t of the creative
power of the su bconsciou s. His film s e ncourage us to let go of our fan
tasies of controll ing others and access, via our empathy, the real connec
tions between peopl e. According to this theory, Lynch is a realist, anti
fantasma tic film m ake r, a fi lmmak er opposed to standard Hollywood
practice. H is fil ms don 't strike us as realistic beca use we are so enmeshed
in <lO ideologically dri ven fantasy underwritten by Hollywood. As No
chi m son puts it, "Lynch seeks to avoid the Hollywood trap of creating
substitutes for lifc ."20 What N och imson 's thesis Icavcs unexplained is
the pn:dom irwnce of "substitutes for life"-H ollywood fantasics
w ithin Lynd fil m s.
A ~ ' 1 lt lll ll l10kn who p ri vilcgcs fa ntas y and w h<lt it ca n accomplish,
]);lvid I V II ( !I tll l ll .~ (;lIdarcJ's progra m 01\ ib hc;\Cl. "rlwug h both sharc
I I UQ IIU CT II1N 11
the aim of altering the spectator's relationship ro the given social reality,
th ey go about accomplishing this in opposite ways. Whereas Godard
(like many alternative filmmakers) works ro alienate spectators and
force them to recognize their Jistance from the images on the screen,
Lynch tries ro close this distance to an even grea ter extent than typi cal
Hollywood films. I f Godard is a filmmaker of distance, Lynch is a film
maker of proximity.
But Lynch does not create proximity in the wa y \Ve might expect
by deconstructing th e binary opposition hetween fantasy and daily rea l
ity, between the outside world nd the cinema. Unlike traditional alter
native filmmakers, Lynch has no interest in deconstruction beca use
deconstruction involves sustaining oneself at a distance from the oppo
sition that one is Jeconstructing. 21 Rather than complica te or eve n und o
binar)' oppositions, Lyn ch revels in them . Not only that: he push es bi
nar)' oppositions to an extreme. In his films we see stark oppositions in
character, in mise-en-sce:ne, in editing stylc, and in narrative structure.
This is apparent, for in stance, in the opposition between th e two worlds
of John Merrick (John Hurt) in Th(;' F.!ephant Man : the propriety of
l\ l1crrick 's daytime existen ce at the hospital contrasts ahsolutdy with th e
perversity a nd ugliness of his nights there. During the day, T reves (An
thony Hopkin s) and Merrick 's visitors treat M errick with kindness and
respect, whereas at night, the night porter (Michael Elphick) and lhe
visitors he brings to see Merrick treat hi m as a freak , retu rn ing Merrick
e motionall y t0 hi>~ days in the carnival und e r the vieious co nt rol ofBytes
(Freddie J ones). Some such opposition structures a ll of Lynch 's films ,
and in each case Lynch sustai m; the oppos iti on throug h out th e film ,
con tributing ro the bi za rre quality ofh is \vork.
Ironi ca ll)', the films seem bizarre to LIS precisely because of the exces
si veness of thei r normality- a nother twist in the separa tion hetween a
filmmaker such as Jean -Luc Godard and Lynch . \Vh e reas G odard aims
at offering an alternative to bourgeois cinema <lnJ bourgeois life, Lync h
w ants ro embody it funy. He is , in a word, bizarrely normal. This is
what separa tes Lynch from so many of the other filmm a ke rs existing
on th e outskirts and outside of Hollywood. By taking up mainstream
filmm a king who leheartedly, he reveals th e radicality and pe rve rsity of
the mainstream itself. He is too mainstream for th e tn ain ~tre:'l m .
Throu g h th e ac t oftaking normality rll it~ I Clgi~,d tx t rcm~, Ly nch
re vea ls h ow th e bi zarre is not oppos('.! to tll l IIl1t 111 .11 Inrt nhere nt
12 rtlF IM PO S SI BlE DAVID I YNC It
within it. To tbis e nd , his pe rsonal idiosyncrasies function as an exten
sion of this fundamental idea informing his film s. Tbro ugh th e wa)'
tha t Lynch engages in them , behav iors central to Ame rican mythology
take on an alien a ppea ra nCt:. T his leads P au l W oods ro labe! Lynch "an
All-American M artian 80y."22 Ly nch 's child hood in small-town Mis
soula, Montana, his success in the Boy Scouts (bccoming a n Eagle
Scout), hi s da ily trips to th e local B ig Boy resta ura nt, an d his del ive ring
the WaLl StI-eef ouma! to fin ance Eraserhead all ev ince his embodiment
of th e norm in a way rhat causes ir to seem irregular Or strangc.
But ir is L ynch 's mode of drcss that best reveals his reJation to normal
ity. During th e 1970s, fashion dictated that th e shirts of stylis h men
should be u nbuttoned e noug h to revea l their chest. T his style, popular
ized by, among othcrs, Jo hn Travolta in Saturday Night Fever (John Bad
ham, ' 977) signified re beLliousness against the office dress code tha t de
manded a coat and tie. O n e opened ooe's shirt and felt one's radicality.
The more buttons unbutto ned , the more radi cal. The conserva tive op
tion in volved leaving ju st the rop butto o undone. L ynch too k- a nd sti ll
takes- this conservnri ve position one step furth e r a nd buttoned his sh irt
all the wa y. W ith out an accompanying tie, the sh t ful ly buttoned takes
o n an odd appearan ce, especially at a time when fas h ion d icta tes :l O un
buttoned look . O ne looks at Lynch wi th the fu ll y b u ttolled shi rt, and one
sees somethi ng srran ge-pe rhaps evcn rad ica l- bul not somethin g u ut
side the ma instream. H is a ttire brings lO light the odd ity o f the m ai n
srream itself.
ync h 's style of drcss is imporra n t o n ly insofar as it fo llows from and
lI umina tes h is filmic p roject. H is fiJms a re excessi vcl y normal in pre
cisely the same way. T hey create a d ivision betwee n the rea lm of desire
and the rcal m of fa ntasy, between the ex igencies of socia l rea lity a nd our
psychic respite from those exige ncies. 23 T his n ear-absolute division in
Ly nc h 's films plays a m ajo r pan in the quality ofme biza rre tha t we find
in m em , and ye t this type ofse pa ration betwee n socia l reaLi ty ;.nd fantasy
rep resents the very d efini to n of n o rma lity.
W e tend to th ink (lf nor mali ty as culturally rel a ti ve and thus as be
reft o f theorericaJ sig nin.cance: the norm in one culture is abnormal in
ano ther ; ga y partners hold ing ha n ds in publ ic is norma l in New Yo rk
C ity and It n.JCceprahle in r ural K'lmas. Ru t hy tracing how the d es iring
su b jc:ct ('(Itl1l'~ m/) IK ing, a 1l111fl' lhcu rl ti"ally \ ig nificant conceptinn o f
norr ll .t1lt v t .ll i hnlltllc vi\ihlc.; TIK dt.:\lri ng Stlh ,l't ill t.: rgc:s whcn an
IN I "OOUC 11 01'1 1',
individual encounters social demands-demands for sociall y acce pt
able behavi or- fro m parents or some othcr soc ial authority. In. L acan's
idiom, this fig ure w ho embod ies the social arder and its regu lations is
rhe Other. The subj ecr enlers the soci al order confranted w irh rhe O th
er's articul ated dem ano, hut th is demand conceal s u narticulareable dc
si re. We hear a demand fro m an autho rity fig ure-"Clean up your
room' " or "Do as you're told' ''-but we don 't know exactl y w ha t the
authority reall y desires from uso 0 11 one level, of course, the auth ori ry
just Wallts us to obey, bur no au thori ty wan ts st ri c! obedience. T he un
imaginativ e child or studeot w ho follo ws every ru le to the len er inev i
tably disappoints the parc nt o r teacher even more tha n th e rebe\. F ol
lowing every rule to the le tter indica res that one has not seeo the desirc
benea th the demando
The subj ec t rece ives demands fram the O ther, but no words can
teH the subj ec t w hat the Other desires. W hen we confront a demand,
\Ve can ask the Other w har shelhe l't'uLiy wan ts fro!11 us, but th e O ther
can o nly ans.ve r in words, w hich wi ll produce anothe r q uestion as to
what d esir e th ose wo rd s are hiding. W hen, in BLue Ve/vet , JefErey Beau
mont (Kyle MacLachlan) confron ts the demand of D etective W illiams
(George Dickerson) rhar he put an end ro any iote rcst in the case ~ ur
roundin g the derached ea r that he fo und , ir is not at all cl ea r whal De
tec ti ve Wi lliams reall y desires . His o emand is unambiguolls, but one
can also surmise thar he app reciates Je ffrey's inre rest in the intricacies of
police inv estigarion. W hen Je ffr ey defies Dctecve Will iams' explici t
demand a nd pursues hi s ow o investigarion, he is fo ll owing-or beueves
thar he is foll ow ing-rhe dcsi re mat lies be neath th is dem ando T he
point is not that Detective W illiams ma kes a hypocritica l demand but
rhat all dem ands coneeal sorne desire. T he depthlessness o f sig nifi crs
as Joan Co pj ec insisrs, "sigl1ifien- are not transparellt"24- inevitahl y crc
ates a sense of mysrery concerning tbe desire rh at m ight lie be neath.
The subj ec t's desire arises out of the encounter w ith the indecipherable
desire of the O ther, and in this sense, as Lacan often repeats, o ne's desire
is the desire of the O th er. The p roblcm of this desire is tha t it is al ways
elsewhere; we can neve r pin it do wl1 , just like \Ve can never pin down
the moment tha r is "now." F or rhe su bj ccr w ithin langunge (for every
subject), ir is an irn poss ible object.
A s desi ring subjeets, we li ve in a worl d nI ,l nl lj.'llI li'l1 l. Ik~in: nffcrs
us rwo antagon isrie poss ihili ties--hav ill g 11 11 ,, 11) 11 1 , 1\ " \I',I\(S 111 be t/It!
14 THf lMP(J S S 1 B ~E DAV I D lYtoI Cl t
objeer, or not hav ing thc object- a.ll d ne ither of rhese possihiliries are
sarisfying. Bur anragoni sm is nor sirnply a negati ve ca tegory. Ir cons ri
tutes our sense of rcality: the extc rn nl wu rld appea rs rea l to us beca use
of the absencc of th e des ire of the O the r, the ahsence of the obj ect that
would offer the subjeet the ultim are en joymen t. But this a lso mean s
rhat this social (ca lity Ieaves liS never full y satisfied as su hj ects.
Fantasy providcs a way fo r me sub jecl ro bea r rhe dissatisfaction of
the socia l reali ty. In thi s sense, it supplements the funcrioning of id col
ogy and kccps subjects relativel y conten t with an imagina ry sarisfae
rion. Through fa ntasy, we do the impossible, acccssi ng the imposs ihle
desi re of rhe Orher ancl glimpsing the enjoyrnent rhat it promises. The
Other's oesire becomes a secret thar one mig ht uncove r, not a co nst itu
tivdy impossible objec r rhar exists on ly in irs absence. We don't neces
sarily fantasize ohtaining th is impossible objecr and enj oy ing rh e pos
sess ion of ir. In stead, fa nra sy construcrs a na rrariv e th ar explains the loss
of th e objecr and/or poi n ts roward its recovery. This narrati vc gives
mean ing ro the IOS 5 of th e obj ec t ano transforms rhe impossihlc objecr
into a possible one. F or instanee, rh e fantasy o f hu manity 's expul sion
fram the G a rden of Ed en allows us to believe rh ar pa rad ise is a possibil
ity, even lhough ir is los t. Such an id ea offers us a feel ing of hopc amid sr
rhe general ized di ssatis faction tha r characrerizes our cxperi ence of the
object as an im possibil ity.
But fa nrasy is not just a private compensation for public dissatisfac
tion. Jt silcntly info rms our everyday cxperience oEthe social reality it
self and has the effect of taki ng some oE its d issatisfac rio n away. F anta
sy's trans form ati on of the Other's uesi re allows the subjecr ro expe rience
a realry w here the ultima re cnjoyment is a possi bi lity residing just be
nea rh rhe su rface of things. Fan tasy hleeds into our expe ri ence of the
ex rernaJ wo rl d and gi ves us ou r sense of the fullness of rea l ity.
Bur the normal subject, in psyc hoanal ytic terms, mainra in s an abso
lute d ivide berween social real ity and fan tasy- what F reud call s the
ex terna l and (he interna l-and kno\Vs how to distin guish them. For
rh e no rm al subj ect, as Freud puts ir, "what is unreal , merely a prese nra
rion and subjective, is only internaJ; w hat is real is also th ere outside." 25
rvorma L thus m ea ns no con fusion of external and inrern al, social reality
an d fantasy. This idea of norm aliry is not juSt a F reu dian ooe: most
psychologists- ao o even mosr of the popula Lon at large- accepr the
id ea that 11 0fl ll : d 'lIbjccts are t hose w ith lhe ahil iry t disringu ish w hat
I NI'QDUCl IOt-l 15
really happens in the world from what th e)' fantasizc. Such normality,
however, is impossible a prio ri : no one experiences reality without sorn e
fantasma tic in vestm ent. Which is tu say that what we fantasize that w e
will see info rms w hat we do see.:<6
Nonethelcss, according to the strict ps)'c hoanalyti c dcfmition, nor
mality allows no such confusion, which is w h)' psych oa nal)'sis also recog
ni zes that we ne ve r encountcr a normal subject. T he re is always some
slippage bet\vee n normality on th e one hand and neurosis and psychosis
on the other. U nlike the "nor ma !" suhject, neurotics and ps)'chotics don 't
experi ence things so clearly. Th e psychotic confuses reality and fantas y
and experiences them as equiva lcnt, whilc the ncurotic sceks in fantasy a
substitute satisfaction fo r w hat she or he did not fin d in rcality. Hence,
for the psychotic eve ry expe ri ence, even a fantasma tic one, seems rea l,
ano for the neurotic every ex perience, even a rea l one, has at lcast a hint
offantasy. There is, in ooth cases, a blurring of the lines. 27
This hlurring of the lines occurs in most films as wd!. Narrative
fi lms typica lly revolve around th e in termixing and interaction of desire
and fantas)'. Desire fuds the movement of narrati ve heca use it is the
search for answe rs, a process of questioning, an opening ro possibility.
Fantasy, in contrast, provid es an ans wer to this gues ti oning, a solution
to the enigma of desire (albeit an imaginary one), a resolu tio n of unce r
tainties. In ou r experience of most fi lms-fi lms that have an ev ident
na rrati ve co herence-the rela tionship between desire and fantasy ap
pea rs seamless: we ca n't readily delineate the p recise moment ar wh ich
we pass from d es ire to fan tasy, nor do they a ppear as sepa rate rcalm s.
Instead, fanta sy is constantly there, clear ing up desire's ambigu iries. We
don't know exactly what will happen next, but we do feel secure in a
reality replete w ith meaning-a reali ty in which evell ts fun damenta!!y
m ake sen se. It is the task of fantas y lO provide us wirh this sense of in
habiting a t ruly meaningful reali ty, a reality in w hi ch m ea ning itself is
not up for grabs. 2B
T he rel ation between desire and fantasy in film may becom e cleare r
in light of a film that offers littl e fanLasmatic resoluti on-C h ristopher
Nolan's Memento (2000). Th ough o ne quiekly adjusts to the (ge ne rall y)
backwa rds movement of the film's na rration, one cannot construct an
una mbig uous account of the evc:nts rha t the film s ll gg ~s r s have ha p
pened. N o maner how m any times a Speel:ll <lr vil'WS 1111: film . she/he
16 lH[ IMPO SS IOL E DAVID LYNCJI
could not discover the truth of rhe fil m's central eve nt: how th e \Vife of
Leonard Shelby (Guy Pearcc) died, ano vvho was rcsponsi'hle for her
dcath. This e\ie nt motivates rhe ~c ti o n in lhe film , a,n d the Ifw rrativc
mov cs in 'lhe direction ofth is m ysl<:ry. But it remai os completcl y eni g
mati c. The film prompts specta tor d esire for a sol utio n bUIt dnes not pro
vide the fantasm atic scena rio that wo uld allow the solution to appear.
The impossible obj ect remain s impossihle even a t th e end of m e film.
Rather than providing a (fan tasmatic) solu tion to rhe crime, the endi ng
shows us ool y L eonard's wi ll ful self-deception th ar puts hi m on rhe track
of someone he doesn't thi nk is res ponsible. Memento sticks out beca use it
proviJes a world of desire in a relatively plLre form, not b!ending it with
fanta sy.19
In me ver)' commo n films that blur me line betwccn d esire and fan
tasy, we neve r have an inital experience of desire in its p urity prior to
th e onset of bntas)', jusr as we don 'r initia lly expe rience a qllestion apa rt
from sorne idea of a n answer, or d ou bt witholltsom e kind of certainty.
F antasy, in other words, exists alongside desire from the beginning,
structurin g its very path ; it isn't so methwg added 0 11 te desire after the
fa ct. In this sense, fil ms tha t blu r the Une betwee n dcsire and fa nta sy
bcst approxim ate ou r q uotidian experi ence oFthe world , in w hic h fa n
tasy saves us from havi ng t en dure the inherenrly trau matic desire of
the Omer un prepared . Fantasy is the set of bli nders rhat obscures rhe
trau matic (unanswerabl e) qucston that this desire asks of USo
We can see th is clcarl y in the case of film noif. I~ the fi gu re of the
fe mm e [ata le, desirc and fa ntasy ope rare sim ulta neously: on the one
haod, shc is a traum atic fig ure fo r the spectator and the noir hero-we
confront her traumatic d esire and a re thereby reduced to the position of
me dcsiring subject-but on the other, she fi ts nea dy into our fantasy
fra me precisely inso far as she is a fcmme fata le, a representative of
t ransgr essive pleas urc. F or insta nce, "vhen Phyllis D ie trichson (Barbara
Stanwyck) ma kcs her famous appea rance at the top of the sta irs wear
ing onl y a ro wcl in Double Indemnity (Billy W ilder, 1944), Walter N cff
(F red MacMu rra y) and the spectator see her th rough the lens of fa n
tasy-as lhe licentious femme fatale. W hen we see hcr as femm e fatale,
we have;: an initial fa ntasmatic frame.: th rough w hich to ma ke sense of
her and her J e:;ire. I n other wo rds, ( r llm t he beginni ng we know thar
she mt'a n; t rullble. A ll [he indi:;cc rnihilily <Ir he.:r J esire that follow$ in
I t ll ROU U CllON 1/
the film-up tu her inability to shoot Walter nea r the film's end
emerge against the back ground of this initial fantas matic [rame. Our
relation ship to P hyIlis and her desire doesn't exist apart from the fan
tasm atic imagc ofher as femme fa ta lc. In Double lndemnity- as in m ost
films and as in Our everyday ex pe ri encc-the worlds of d es ire and fan
tasy overbp and com m ingle . Lyn ch's filrns, howeve r, attempt lO hold
these worlds separate)O
This separation marks the begirm ing of Lynch 's imposs ibl e cinema.
The idea of apu re desire, a d esire unmediated by [an tasy, is itsel [ the
ulti ma te fantasy; desire does not exis t prior to fan tasy but emerges ou t
of it. Fantasy does not simply provi dc an answe r for the question posed
by desire; instead, desire poses the questi on for the an swe r that fa ntasy
provides. Or, as Slavoj Zizek puts it, " It is only throug h fantasy that th e
subject is constitutcd as desiring: th rough fantasy, we learn how to de
sil'e."3' Hence; Lynch's depiction of the w rld of dcsire prior ro fantas)'
would be un thin k able outside the fantasma tic mcdium of film ilse lf.
He uses filmic fa ntasy tu prcse nt desire in its imm ed iacy and the reby
aJ!ows us to sce precisel y how desirc a nd faotas)' interrela tc.
Lync h's film s present the distinct worlds of desi re and fa ntasy
through radical di fferences in form w ith in each film . T he model fo r his
films is The Wizard ofOz (Victor Fle ming, 1939), w hich creates a d ivi
sion betwee n the social rea li ty of Ka nsas and the d rea m 'No rld of O~ .
F lemin g uses blac k-and-w hite photograph y [O depi ct th e d issalisfac
tion Dorothy (Jud y G arland) feels in Kansas a nd colo r tO ind ica re tbe
enj oy rnent that the O z fa ntasy hrings. The fi rst pan (l f the fi lm foll ows
the logic of d es ire insofa r as Dorothy seeks a satisfaction tha r seems
constitutively d en ied to her. N o one pays attention to he r on the fa m ily
ranch, and hcr on ly fri end, her dog To to, faces execLl tio n fo r his unru ly
behav ior. In K an sas, sh e can lo ng for a n impossible obj ect tha t exis ts
"somewhere over the rainhow," hut ir is cl ea r that she ca nnot arta in it.
The turn ro the w o rld of Oz changes Dorothy's fortu ne com pletely. She
beco mes the ce n ter of attention, the source of hope for others , and a
hero for havin g k ill ed the W icked W itch of the East. Even the diffi cul
ties th at she enco unters brin g an excitement an d enjoyment ch at weTe
impossi ble in K ansas. The fan tasmatic land o f Oz sol v e~ Lhe dilemmas
rhat the Ka nsas section of the fil m, th e world 01' d e~ire. pn :se nts as in
soluble. Th e emergc ncc o f colo r photogr:lph y i~ ,11 1l0 <' l 1lit el11t:rgeocc
of new poss ibility.
18 nl~ I M POSS I Dl E DA V I D I 'I'N' II
Though Lynch never uses this p rt:ci se way uf creating an opposition
between social rea lity and faotasy, lhe id ea of the separation itself in
forms each of his films Y In a film like Mulholla nd Dl'ive (2001), the dif
ferences het ween th e drab social real ity in whi ch Dia ne (Naomi W atts)
exists and the colorful fantasrna tc al tern ative w here she becomes Betty
(also N aom i W atts) become almost as con spicuous as F lern ing 's split
ting through th c use of d ifferent fi lm stoc k. Ly nch clai ms th ar T he Wiz
ard ofOz "must've got insid e me w hen 1 first saw ir, like it did a million
other people."33 He learm from it an aesthetic structure that allows him
to separate twO filmic worlds and then li nk togethc r w hat has becn se p
arated , u-\ough he ultimately uses this structure to far different ends
tha n Flem ing, whose film uses the dream of O z to reconcile spectators
to the monoton y of their Kansas.
Taking The Wizard of Oz as bis point o[ departure, L ynch depicts
worlds of desire by emphasiz ing the absence oE the object. These wo rlds
are typica ll y spa rse an d bland, if nor bleak and desolate. The dark Light
ing, stilted acting, mini m al dcor, and an absence o f moveme nt within
shots in the 6 rst pan of L ost Highway, for exarnple, contrib ute ro rhe
m ise-en-scene th at is meant to spur spectato r desire. In Eraserhead, "ve
see characters constit utively d epri ved of any enjoyment-that is, stuck
in the d issatis facrion and lack rhat is desire-but even more, we as spec
tators experi ence ou r own sen se of lac k when confronted w ith an image
m at is largely d a rk and emp ty. T hese worlds of d esire bomba rd the
spectator Wilh d isplays of absence.
T he worlds of fan tasy in Lynch's films m ark a defi n itive contrasto
Here, the excess anel heig htencd presence of th e fi lm ic im age th at we as
sociare wi th cinem a as such bursts for th . Rather lhan endu ring the ab
sence of lhe imposs ible object-cause of desire, the spectator fin ds ind ica
tioos of th is ob ject eve rywhere, eithc r in specific characters like F rank
Booth (Dennis Hopper) popu lating rhe underwo rl d in Rlue Velvet or in
tbe brigh t and colorful setting we see w hen Laura Pa lmer (Sheryl Lee)
fir st appea rs in Twlll PeakF Flre Wa1k with Me (1992). T h ro ugh their ex
cessi veness, the fa n rasy worlds unleash enj oyment on borh the characters
witbi n them and th e spectato r watching. As a rcsu lt, they a re as difficult
lO exper ience as the worlds of desire, m ough for the opposite rcason.
W hiJe watching the worlds of fan ta sy unfold io a Lynch fil m, one sees
too rnuch of the objecl and enj oys too m ucho But th is al terna ting expe ri
ence of absence and excessive prcsen ce is norm ality itsel f. By separating
I NnoD u C ll ON 19
the n.: alms of desire and fantas y, Lyncb's fiJms providc a n unsetu ing in
sight into normality that everyda y Jife militates aga inst.
One effect of this separ:ltion is to make clear the wa y in wh ich fan
tasy acts as a compensation for what the soci al reali ty- the world in
which we can only desire-doesn't pro vidc. Un li ke th e social real ity,
fantasy provides the il!usion of deli vering the good s; it o ffers a fo rm of
enjoyment for subjects lhat social reaJity cannot- like, for insta nce, [he
enjoyment that comes from wa tching a filmic narrati ve un fold. This
becomes clearl y visible in Lynch's filros , however, only beca use Lynch
maintains a sepa ration between the world of social reali ry and that of
fantasy, a separation as disconcerting as ir is reveaJin g .
The separation between the world of des ire and the world offan tasy
becomes increasingly pronounced as Lynch 's ca reer d evelops. lt is far
more visible in Iater films such as L os! Highway or Mulholland D rive
than earlier films likc E ra.'erhead and The Elep/lam Mall. Look ing at the
films chronological!y, we can see Lynch constantly changing the way he
crea tes opposing worlds, adding nuancc Js his career J cvclops, but rhe
opposition itself remains consta nt. Each interp retarion tha t foll o\Vs wil!
stress how cach fi lm extends a nd qualifics the imigh ts of lhe ea rl ie r
films . W e w il! not see a straigh t line of p rogrcss but a path of aesmetic
exploration and inc reasing comp lcxity. F ur th erm orc, in o rder to exam
ine how Lynch ope rates differently w ith in the same meJ iu m (wh ich
al ways provides similar possibi lities), 1 w iJ l res trict the focus in lrus
book to his nine fc atu re fi lms , leav in g asid c hi s sho rt fi lms and his tele
"ision work (inclu di ng Twin Peaks ). T he difficu llY oC the film s th em
selves suffices without the fu rr ber complication s in troduced by Ule
quesrions of medium specific ity and coll...boration.
The difficulty o f Lynch's films d oes not lie so m uch in how subve r
sive or radical they are, bu t in the fact that they o ffer a far m ore normal
perspective than m ainstream Holl ywood film. They create an absolute
division betwee n social rea lity and fan tasy, 'and thi s is a normal ity that
\Ve arcn't used to seeing, eitbe r in Holl ywood or in ou r everyd ay Jves.
As Freud points ou t, cven the most normal su b jcct we encountcr is ro
some degree a neurotic; that i5 , she or he allows fa ntasy to shape hcr or
his cx perience of reali ty,34 L ynch 's fil m s d isconccrt us precisely bccause
~ hey confront us with normal iry-and normalty ~e('ms comrktely for
eign. But in [be d iv ide betwecn de~ irc and C1I1 L"Y l.yllrh allm.v~ us to
20 THE IMPOSS I Blf DA V ID l YNC l 1
expcrience the cinema io a w.IY that challenges ilS ryp ical relationship
with id eology.
The Impossible David Lynch
When cinema exists simply as an escape fo r spectarors-i.e., when films
deploy fantasy wimollt full y in vesting the rn selv es in it- it can effec
tively play the role of a fantasmatc idcological supplement. That is, it
can provide subjects with a m ode of enj oym cnt th at compensates for
the dissatisfactions of th eir daiI y reality. If, for instance, subjects expcri
ence dass antagonism in their li ves, [hey can enj oy the transcendence of
this antagonism w hile watching the romance between the upper-class
Rose (Kate Winslet) and the lowe r-class Jack (Leonardo DiCa prio) in
Titanic (Jam es Cam eron , (997) and th ereby continue a contented exis
tence within the wo rld of class antagonismo T he brief elimin ati on of
class antagonism in the cinema provid es <l sal ve so that subjects don't
suffer from it quite so mucho Bu t the [lI1tasmatic effect succeeds onl y as
long as spectators expcri ence cinem atic fantasics fro m a distan ce and
fail ro take thcm seriously.
Beca use Lynch's fi lms create a separa tion belwee n the realms of d e
sire an d fa n tasy, they have rh e abil ity ro im me rse us as spectators more
com pletely in the Cantasma tic wo rld. F ilms tha t blend the realms of de
sire a ncl fanta sy allow spectators ro re m ain removed fr om the fanta sy
that they depict. T hey p reserve a degrce of desirc eve n in their depic
tion of a fa ntasm aLc resolu tion, and thi s pe rmi ts the specta to r ro resist
wholly com mirrin g hcrlhim self to me fan tasy. rn other words, thi s type
of fi lm-the ty pic al Hollywood film-doesn'l fascina te the spectator
too m uch; it fa ils to fasci nate rhe spectator enough. Ir offers th e specta
tor just a [aste of the fan tasmatic resolution with the im plicit promise
that lhe en joyment it provides wil! exre nd ad infi nitum . Bu t th is prom
se is ncver- and can neve r be-redecmed. We never see com pletely
the ram ifications of fa ntasy itself-its costs, its rewlfds, its effects, and
so on . T he ramifications rern ain al wa ys on the hori zon, yct ro be discov
ered , w hich all ow5 the spectaror ro retain some desire and avoid fully
comm itting to m e fa ntasy. Lynch's films com pensa te fo r this absence in
cher fi lrns by providing us with a rotal experience of fantasy. In the
typic<1 1 Ly nch film, one fo ll ow~ the logic o f fantasy ro il5 end point and
IIII ROD U CT I O N '1
in this way experi ences both the enjoym ent that fantasy brings and its
psychic-and often material-costs.
We might imagine a Lyn ch version of a television program like r.x
treme Makeover, a rea lity show depi cting the com plete tran sformation of
a person's appear:mce through the aid of plastic surgeons, beauticians,
and other experts. Each episoue ends with the realization of a d ream: the
once unattractive person m eets family and frienc1s in a changcd form,
and ev eryone celebrates the impro vement, usually w ith tears anu hugs.
One need not be a psycho,uulytic or Marxis t theorist to see how the real
ization of the fantasy he re functions id eol ogically. not just by curing the
participant of her dissatisfaction but by convincing spectators that a po
tential cure for their o\\ln dissatisfaction exists \\Iith the propcr commod
ies. The show docs noth ing ro arrest the beauty aesthetic that causes the
suffering in the first place bllt works instead to increase spectator invest
ment in ir. The limitation ofthis critigue is that it sees only the ideologi
cal function of fantas)' where the hypothetical Lynch version of the show
would reveal something further.
The pleasure that spectalOrs derive fmm Extreme Makeover de pends
on the point at "v hich it stops. The show depicts th e participant show
ing off the new look, but it neve r shows LIS th e new life in its entirety.
The Lynch version wOllld continue past the initial m eeng an d show
the new life that the makeove r created-perhaps follo wing rhe par tici
pant for the next year. It would invest itself more fu lly in the fantasy
than the actual Extreme Makeover rathe r than deconstrucring ir. We
would see the participant discove r the surpassed old life return in th e
ne\V one, w hich \Vould traumatize borh th e pa rticipant and the specta
rol'. The underlying identity of th e excitin g alternative and the old te
dious reali ty would become visible, dep ri vi ng us of tbe idea of another
life where things would be differenr. T his is a f;:dical insight th at we
cannot arrive at through sim ply denouncing fantasy; one must fully
play it out.
But Lynch's fi lms do Il ot depict fantasy in this unadulterated wa y in
order lO display the dangers of fascinaton. The total experience of fan
tasy that the Lynch film creates aims to trigger a spectator response of
identification with the traumatic mom ent enacted with in the fantasy.
Lynch offers the fantasmatic expe rie nce in ord er lo ra cilita lt! th is iden
tification w ith wb at seem$ mnst di ~t;1l1 eroll t .mll li1rciglJ to us as
spectators.
22 Tllf IMPOSStO LE DA VID IYN' 11
Of courSl:, not l:very c i.nem ~l li c spec lato r is lhe sa me, and film thcory
has spent many ycars focused on the nuances of spectawr diffcrence.
But such discussions ha ve as their foundation an empirical conception
of the spectator: they im ply thar th e specrator is external to the film and
thus don't focus on the way that fi lms internall y posit their ow n specta
tors oE ve ry film demands a certain response. It is the ta sk of interpreta
tion to locate ds d emand, and it i5 the task of the actual spectato r in the
th ea ter to be adequatc to it. 35 This is especia lly im perative in the case of
L ynch beca use ofhis approach to fa ntasy. I n Lynch 's films , the fan tasi es
that the cinema enacts for us are not si m ply a nice diversion, but rather
th ey house the truth of our being as spectators.
Lynch's cinematic fantasies contai n the truth of our being insofar as
they reveal wher e we direct our desire. Our everyday experience allows
our own desire ro remain unconscious: we c! on 't see how our desire
shapes what we see; we bclieve tha t we simply see w hal appea rs in the
wo rld to be seen. By presenti ng us with an alternate fantasma tic 'vvorld
vastly differcnt from our everyday experience, Lyllch creates a situat ion
w here the di sto rtin g power of our desire becomes visibl e to us o O ur
very in vestment in the fantasies tha t his fi lm s offer revca ls our uncon
seious: we expe rience a fam iliaI ity in w har is com pletel y u nfamj[ia r..l
In this way, Lynch's fil mrn aki ng tcsti fies ro rs kinsh ip with Hege
lia n pbilosoph y. H e is the Hegel of flm m ake rs, one of rhe few d irectors
to use ci nema to enact a process on the speclaror tha t Hegel c.an only
descr ibe)7 Philosophical thi nki ng, in Hegel 's rn i.nd, involves "pure self
recogn ition in absolute oche rn ess," a recognition that one'5 identi ty ex
ists ou t5ide oneself in the ob ject that appears m ost other to oneself.38
This is the recogn iti on of whar Hegel ca lls speculati vc identi ty: in the
aet of spee ulati ve identity, the subject grasps its connection with w hat it
caunot encompass.
Hegel beg ins tbe Phenomello1ogy of Spirlt wirh the complete op posi
ton of subject an d substance in order to be able to show the identity of
what our thin ki ng fo rmul ares as most opposed. T he initial d iv ision is
necessa ry, for H egel as for Lyn ch, in order ro make clear that rhe connec
tion mo ves through absolute otherness rather than just eliminating it.
Tbis leaves the subject no room for res pite, no difference into w hich it
might escape. H egel's most powerfuJ example of specul ative id en rity de
ri ves from the-discred i.ted, even during Hege! 's time-pseudosci ence
of phrenolng-y. By link ing pe rson atity a lld illtdl igcn cc ro th e size and
!HIROO lt ff lrm 13
shape of thc skull, phrenology aJlows m to see the fundamental dcpcn
dence of spirit nn its stupid materiality. For all its transccndcnce- and
H egel thinks rhis transcendence is nonetheless real , w hich is why he im't
a phrcnologist- s pirit cannot escape its inorga n ic origins.
Even our most profound speculative tho ug hts rema in dependent on
our material being, though this specula tion believes thar it lea ves the
material world far behind. As Hegel puts ir, "the actuality and extellce
ofman is his skutl-bone."39 Ultimately, phrenology is n ot, for Hegel , the
last word on spirit. But this is only beca use it does not ye t re present the
most extreme form of speculati ve identi ty. The position of the a bsolute,
which is wherc Hegelian philosophy a lways ends up, involves the sub
ject seeing \-vhat it can't see-what Hegel calls "rhe negative of itself, or
its limit."4 0 The subject recognizes that the li mir:Jtion on its u ndcr
standing is in fact integral to its ver y ability to und e rst;:t nd . This is a
recognirion mirroring that of the patient at the end of psychoanalysis
who sees t hat "I am that": I id e ntify myself w ith the trallmatic object,
and in doing so, I become who I alway s was.
It is th e p rinc ipal virtue ofLynch's films to insist on speculati ve ide n
tiry, thi s " self-recognition in absol ure otherncss." rn the experience of a
Ly nch film, one can no longer slIstain a sense of di sta nce between o ne
self as specta tor a nd the events on the screen beca use h is fi lm s reveal the
und erlying ide ntity of every opposition. To return ro the example of
The E lephant Man, we see the iden t ity of T rcves, rhe one w ho trcats
Me rrick w ith kindness, a nd Bytes, rhe one "vho exploits him me rci
lessly. As spectators we gladly iden tify ourselvcs w irh the he ro ism oC
T reves a nd dctest the CrtIel ty of Bytes, but rhe ti 1rn forces us to sc:e how
the ac tions of Treves mi rror those of Bytes, the reby implicating LIS in
the ex ploi ta tion of Merrick . Tbere is no safe oppos it ion fur rhe specta
tor in Ly nch 's cinema.
Lyn ch's films d em a nd tha t the specta tor revalua te her/ his rdatio n
ship to the cinema. The cinema i5 no longer an esca pe without an y co n
nection to the outside worl d, nor is it a reality unto itsclf. ln stead, it is
the re ve rse si de of tha t ou tside world-the fan tasmatic underside thar
holds tbe truth of the btter. If we escape at all in Lynch\ cin em a, we es
cape into the trauma thar re mains bidd en h UI nnI H.: lhdc~c; slructures
the outside world .
Despice me grea t va riety in rhcir su hjttl 111.1 11' 1', I.Yl1r h\ films al
ways end the sa rne way-w ith ,11 1 illl ll"",d.I'I' 1 1lLll l' llId.lI l1 entallv 31
14 Tllr IM PO SS I DI. r OAVI IJ I VNt:~1
ters the very structurc of the filmi c world Y It is the sepa ration of the
worlds of desire and bntasv that rcnders this act visihle. In j:'rasahead,
we see Henry attain the Radiator L ady, his fJnt ~lsy object; in F-fephant
Man, we see Jo hn Merrick become a nor mal person; in D une (1984), we
see Paul create rain on a desert plane t; an d so on. E ach of rhese instances
involves; character fulfi Wng a fa ntasy a nd thereby breaking do w n the
distance between the bn tasy world a nd the world of desire (with its
constitutive dissatisfacti on). 1'0 return to Freud's terms, th ese a re cases
where the internal successfully becomes th e exte rna!. These a re cases
w hen the imposs ible becomcs possible.
For Lacan, a link ex ists between impossibili ty and whar he caUs the
real. Within cver)' sym bo lic order, the real occupies the pl ace of what
cannot be tho ug ht or imagiJled -the position of the impossible. The
rea l is not rea li ty but the failure of the sy mbolic order to explain every
thing. W hen seen in this light, the imposs ible is not materially im possi
ble but rather logically imposs ible as long as we remain within me cur
re nt social structure . In Semzna l' XVfI , Laca n claims r.hat "the real is the
impossibl e. N o t on accou nt of a sim ple stumblin g bloc k aga inst which
we bang our hea ds, but because of the logical stumbling bl oc k o f what
announces itself as impos5ible in the symboLic. Ir is from there th at me
real a rises."4.l. W hat is impossible in me symbolic o rder is, in the rea l,
perfecrl y ach ievabJe. It is in this sense of m e trm impossible tha t Lynch's
fil m s allow us to experience ir acruall y tak ing place. They mus prov ide
a fun da m ental ch allcnge to the rul ing sym bolic str ucture, for cing us to
see poss ibi lities where we a re used to seeing impossibili ties.
he even ts depicted within Ly nch 's films reflect the relationship
with the spccta tor that rhese fil m s co nstructoJust as the cha racre rs in
Ly nch 's films rnus t endure the realiza tion o f their fantas ies w ithout re
spite, so must rhe specta tor of these fil ms. To watc h a David Ly nch film
properl y is always to to uch th e screen , to find oneself be reft of the 5afe
di stance thal the ve ry a rch itecture of rhe ci nema seems to prom ise. 43
i IlIP OO\Je. II ON 75

o NE Sacrificing One's Head for an E raser
The Loss of the Life Subsfonce
Ei-aserhead (1977) bega n as a 42-minute studem fi lm that Lync h p ro
poseel [Q th e American Film I nstitute in Los A ngeles while he was en
rolled there. It g rew into a loo -mi nute feature d uring the five yca rs tha t
it took Lynch to complete it. But not only the length oC lhe IiIm 's pro
duction stands out: Ly nch mad e rn uch of the fi lm cla ndestinely in aban
doned buildin gs on AFI property, w here he constructcd his ow n min
iat ure studio. F unding w as neve r constant, anu shooting stopped ma n y
times during the fi ve yea rs w hen the m oney dr ied u p_ It is che onl y
Lynch film m ade in this ind epe nd ent way. Subsequen tl y, he wou ld
ha ve m oney-sometirnes too m uch, somctimes less ch an he wou ld like,
but always enough to continue shooti ng. In order to rea Lize the idea of
Eraserhead, however. the absence of moncy was not a barri er to success;
it was integral.
Lynch's fi lm s ex plore the psyche to such an extenl th at rhey never
seem to touch th e grou nd, to en gage [he economic a nd political realiti es
that shape our everyJay li ves. [f there has bee n on e su';rained theme of
criticism of L ynch's work, it ha s fo ll owcd thesl' lines: he crcales fi lrn ic
worlds rhat sh ow liltle sign of the m:ttn i:d ,,"II rlo! ,,1 ,I:t~~ inc.:q ual iry,
rnarg inali zed people, o r economit st 11 1~IJ.\k , 1\ \ tl ,i\ ~ltI\l. I.ynch i~ very
n nA"rRl/f AO
much a Hollywood filll1maker, unconce rned w irh the socioeconomic
realities of late capitalist life amI co mmitted to Jeliver ing fantasics to
his audiences, even if rh ese fanta sies do themselves d ev iate from the
Holl ywood norm. On l Jjrerallevel , rhere is some tru th to this criticismo
Lynch's filmic explorations of th e psyche lend ro remain on that level
and leave the link between the psychic and the social implicit. But in his
first fea tu re, Fraserhead, he demonstrates explicid y the link between the
intrapsychic struggles ofHenry Spen ce r (Jack N ance) and his situation
as a capitalist subject.
As in L ynch's later film s, the struc ture of E raserhead separates into
two di sparate world s of des ire :lOd fantasy-t he social realiry and the
escape from th at reali ty. Throughout m ost of the film, we see Henry
exi sting in a desolate postindustrial land sca pe whe re he continuall y ex
pe riences noth ing but di ssa tisfaction. These experiences contrast with
h is brief moments of ecstasy, whi ch occur wh en he fantasi zes about a
small wo m an (Laurel Near) who sing s and dances on a stage hidden in
his radi ator. The brig h tness of th e scenes w ith the Radiator Lad y paral
lels the enjoy me nt that th ey depict and con trasts with the dark ncss of
the rest of rhe fi lm. In Eraserhead, L ynch employs rhis separa ti on in or
der to reveal the rcl ationship between the psychic di ssatisfac ti on of the
su bjece and the f u ncrioning of capitali st society, As the film makes clear,
rhis fun ctioning de pends on a continual act of sacrifice on the part of
the subjecr-the sacrifice of che subject's kernel of cnjoyment for the
sa ke of producti viry. T he sam e sacrifice th at lead s to lhe chronic dissar
isfac non of the subject fu els the socia l m echanis ms of production. W hen
the su b ject refuse_~ (h is sacrifi ce, the mec hanis ms oC production brea k
d own. At the end of the film , H enry arrives at the poinr w here he can
em brace ratha than sacrifice his en joym ent. This becomes possible be
cause he becomes aware of the p roduction process throug h fantasy.
Ra ther tha n being solely a veil that hi des th e process of production
and the su bj ect's role in rh is p rocess, fan tasy in Eraserhead works to ex
pose how the subjcct's castration- th e loss thar one experiences w hen
enteri ng into society- se rves che production process. By showing fan
tasy func tio n in g in this way, the fiJm challenges trad iti onal ideas about
Cantasy's r c la f io n~h ip to producoo n. Fo r earl y psychoanalytic film the
a ry, the f~U1 1 a,m;l! ir dim ension (lf cine ma rcprese nrs its g reatest ideo
logicaJ dan).;"1 lit ( ,,1\\ r. ltH.I~y a lways hides p rndllct ion. In fact, accorcl
ing to tl ll\ \' 1I, 1V. 1~ 1I1t '-lc,y c' llIt'rgcs Jl rectly (H it (Jr the ,ttlcm pt to obscure
the rol e that production and labor pla y in the construction of the social
order.
Christi a n Metz loca tes this problem in the einema's privileging of
story (what happens on the screen) at the expem e of d iscourse (the aet of
relating the eve nts on the screen). He notes, "the basic characteristic of
[cinema tic] discourse, and the ve ry principie of its effectiveness as dis
course, is prec isely that it oblitera tes all traces of the enunciation, and
masquerad cs as sto ry."1 \Vhilc \vatchingth e typica l Hollywood film, we
invest ourselves in a series of images that take pai ns to ohscure the pro
ductive apparatus ane! the labor that produ ces them . Building on th e
analysis of Me tz and others, Daniel Dayan adds, "the film -disco urse
presents itsclf as a product without a produce r, a discourse without an
origino It speaks. \Vho speaks? Things speak for th e mselves and, of
course, they tell th e truth. Classical cinema establishes itself as the ven
triloquist of ideology."2 The filmic fantasy, at least in its traditional man
ifestatio n in H ollywood cinema, supplem ents a speeifically capita li st
ideology. Thi s ideology d epends on hiding the la bor that produces eve ry
com modi ty in order to facilitate the "free" exchange of commod ities.
In Eraserhead, L ynch challenges this traditional conception of fan
ta sy (and thus offilm) as an id eological supplem em. Fantasy (as pla yed
out in He nry's dream) becomes the m eans through w hich the subject's
sac rifice of en joyment for the sa ke of social productivi ty hecomes visi
ble. Tho ug h fantasy does obscure the mec ha nis l1l s of prod uction, at the
sa m e time it makes visible the genesis of produc tivity itse lf - the mo
ment of the subject's insertion illto th e social order. E very fantas y is in
sorn e sense a fantasy of origins: fa masy em erges in order to pro vid e
scenari o rh at explica tes th e origin of the subj ect and the o rigin of the
social order, w hich is w hat ideology itsdf remai ns constitutively unable
to ex plain.
Tb e origin is me site of a gap with in ideol og ical explanations: ideol
ogy can only explain the emergence of the prese nt socia l order retroac
ti vdy, in terms of its result, wb ich m ea ns that ideology lacks the prope r
terminolog)' that a genuine exp lan aton would requre. Because ideol
ogy works to justify tbe ex is ting socal order, it reuuces w hat is p rio r to
this ord e r to the le ve! of the order itself. rn short, ideology 's ve ry ability
to explain eve rything lea ves it paradoxica ll y unahk l O l:xpl ai n o rigino
The question of origin bccomes a hLlll k \1'111 Wllh ill idclllogy, a mo
ment of conringcncy with in tlw idcolllgil". d \\'lId d , d Il!' re~ ~ i ry. Any a t
28 'IH~ IM POSS ID LE DAV I D l YNCH
tempt to explain un origin runs i!1 LO lhe p roblem that Kant di agnoses in
the dynamical antinomies of The Critique of Pure Reason, whcre he
probes the questio n of w he m er the worl d itsdf h ad a begi nning o r no to
W hat Kan t finds is tha[ no explanaon of origin ca n eve r be definiti ve
beca use we can always seek the origin of this supposed origino The
search for an origin leads to 3n infinite regress.3 Just as reason cannot
loca te the origin of the world, idcology cannot locate rhe origin of the
social order. But fantasy, beca use it uses na rrati ve ra the r than straight
forw ard explan ati o n, can fiU in this gap a nd offe r us a w a)' o f unde r
standing origino
Fantasy does this on a social as weU as a subjective leve!. For th e indi
vid ual subject, the fantas)' of the primal scene (which is one of the funda
mental fo rms tha t fa ntas)' tak es) tra nsfo rms the utterl y conngent ract of
the subject's birth-w hy this individual and not a norh er-into a narra
tive that re nders thi s birth m ea ningful. In this fanta sy, pa re ntal coi tus
becomes not just a n a rbitrary act but one full of a d efinite intention. Tt has
as its specifi c des ig n creati ng m e indi vidual sub jcct who fanrasi ze s ch is
eventoA simi la r p rocess occurs in fantasies constructed for an en lire so
cial order, w hich ta ke the form of m yth. Virg il's creation of rh e m yth in
w h ic h Aeneas foun ds thc Cil)' o f Rome strips the fo und ing (lf contin
genc)' and a ll ows Romans to see themselves as lhe products of a specific
destioy. In bom these cases, the o rigin ceases to be a disturbing point ancl
becomes the fo unda tion ma t solid ifies a sense of iden tity.
Fa n tasy's o rientaLon toward me origin a110w5 it to playa part in ob
scuri ng a gap with in ideology. Bu t fantasy can also make this gap vis i
bl e; it can show us w hat we othe rw ise would be un able to see. We re
qu ire fa ntasy in o rd e r ro sce our initia l sacrifice of en joy m ent beca use
this act of sac rifice has no cm pi rical existence. Tb a t is to sa y, as mem
ber5 of society, we have always al ready sac rificed our enjoyment-our
m embership in society is d efined by this sac rifice-maki ng it impossi
ble to isol ate the mom ent of rhe sacrifice itself. Not o nl y d(les rhe sacri
fice have no empirical existence, but me subject in no way has any e n
joyment prior to its sac rifi ce. T hc social order demands tbat the subject
give up w ha t it d oesn't have, and it is th is sacrifice of nothing-the pure
<lct of sacr ific e itse1 f-tha t consti rutes rhe subj ect as such .
F an rasy di'lo rts rhe sub jec in itial act of sac rifi ce by m a king ir secm
as if we ha n ' S:ll rifin:d som elhing suhs tamia l ra th er rhan noth ing. Bu t
rhis cli, lorl i, 111 l' 11 IIIL" \:lI l1e time a revel al ion of I he sacr ifi cc tka wou ld
~1\',rllI/f'A[) '2Q
 rema in und etceted without the fantasmatie distortion. If we un de r
stand fantasy in this way, we can revaluate attempts by avant-garde
filmmakers to ex pose the p roductive proccss be hind their filrn s: w hiIe
sueh efforts mal' in faet expose fl lmi c fantasy as a construct, they also
hav c the effect of detracting from fa ntasy's power to ex pose the origins
of the social ord er and the subject. In attempting to d econstruct the
ideologi eal power f filmic fantasy, one simultaneously und ermi nes its
revolutiona ry power as wcll.
Henry Spencer's comp lete immersi on in fantasy demonstrates the
pO'vver of fantasy to expose the initial sacrifice of enjoym ent that m akes
possible th e proccss of prouuction, even as it obscu res that process irse!f.
That is to say, fantasy initially ubscures rhe proeess of prod uction by se
dueing liS wit h a series of images, hut its attempt to na rrate an orig in
has the subseguent effeet of exposing this proecss. Th e fi lm enaets the
dynamic played out in Henry with th e spectatr on the leve! of formo
Just as Henry becomes aware of his own sacrifice of enjoyment and its
connection to the process of production through hi s fantas y, (he spccta
tor becom es aware of the same thing throug h th e filmic fantasy that is
Eraserhead itse lf.
Produdion and Sacrifice
The film begins w ith the d i rect link betwee n Henry's expe rienee of rhe
loss of enjoyment and the onset of industrial produeti on. T he open ing
is compl ete! y surreal: we see the u ppe r part of H enry's body floatin g in
space while Iying on its sid e. Lyn eh superim poses [he image of Henry
on that of a pla net. W hen Henry di!;appears from the fram e, lhe cam
era moves closer to the planet. After a cu t to w hat seems to be the plan
et's sur faee, rhe camera en ters a cab in where aman si ts by a w indow
with three levers in front of him . T he film cuts back to the image of
He nry whose express ion chaI1ges from Oll e of d ull anx iety to terror. Af
ter a guick shot that returns to the man in the cabin as he sud d en ly
jerks, we see Henry's mouth open and a sperm like substanee seems to
emerge from it (though the creature is superim posed on the imge of
Henry) . Lynch euts back to the man in me cabin. w ho pu ll s one of me
levers, wh ic h scems to have th e effcet-w hi r h we \C!" in lhe su bsequent
shot-of sending I he spe rm likc su bsl:l w t" , 11 <11 I1 111 ); ,_,"1 IIf the frame.
T he man in m e cabin pulls :1 ~"(Cl I1 " .1 11.1 11111.1 kVC 1. :llId \Ve <ce the
JO lHF I MPOSS I 9L E D AV I D l YNr: "
substance splashing mto a pool of water. Thc C<lmera ges into tite
puudle and moves forward in the pud d le inl (1 :l bright w h ite light that
eompletel y consumes the frame. This w h il<! light e nds rhe film '5 seve n
mi nu te open ing seguence.
Through the crosscutting ofHe nry expelli ng the spermlike substaI1ce
from hi s mo uth and the man in th e cabin pullin g the tbree levers, the
fi lm emphasi:cs the link betweco t hcse two seemi ngly dispa rate events.
T h is allows us to sce the role that Hen ry's sacrifice of enj oyment plays in
the prod ueti on proeess. The spermli ke substance is a piece ofHe nry m at
de taches itse! f. Ir is whar Henr y loses as he becomes a determi nate, sexed
heing within soci ety. Prior ro losing trus piece of himself, He nry fl oa ts
in ai r, ex.is ting in an indeterminate state. But the 105s of th e spermlike
substance trigge rs his emergence as a determinate subj cc t. 4 In ord cr to
become a subj ect, m e fi lm makes clear, one m ust lose this cssential piece
of oneself-w hat L acan ealIs the "lamel la "-w hich is the pure life sub
stanee subtracted from the subj ect as it enters mo lang uage and the so
cialorder.
Laean's d escri ption of the lamell a from Seminal" XI (knwn as the
Four Fundamental Concepts ofPsycho-Analysis) bea rs an u ncanoy resem
blance to th e spe rml ike substanee that issucs from Hcnry's mouth in
the opening of the film . Lacan describes it as follows: "The lamella is
something extra-fIat, w hich movcs Iike the amoeha. lt is just a littlc
mo re complica tcd. But it goes cverywhe re. And as it is somc rhing .. .
that is related to w hat the sexed heing loses in sexualiry, ir is, li ke the
amoeba in relation to scxed beiog s, immortal-because ir su rv ives a ny
division, an y seiss iparous intervention. A nd it can run arow1d."5 T he
lamclla is the o rgan of the libido-the tife substance itsclf. It is m e littIe
bit of alivencss that [ g ive u p as a sexed being and constantly seek ro re
d iscover in sex ual eneountcrs. Aeco rdin g ro Lacan, " It is p reeisely w ha t
is subtracted fro m the living being by virtuc of th e faet that ir is subject
to the cycle of sexed reproduc tion."6 O ne must lose rhe lame!la if one is
ro beeome a sexeu being beca use sexed rep roduetion requires a mortal,
laek ing subjeet. T he subj eet only turns towa rd the Other on th e basis of
its own exper ience of lacking m is li fe substance. If the subjee t we re
complete or eompletely alive, it would not have the ability ro desire.
Because the loss of th e life substanee or little bi t o f ali vcness is lin ked
ro sex ual reproduction, subj eets often see it ex isting in their offspring,
which cxplain s th e ambivalence that pa renls fce1 toward thcir ehild re n.
fRASER HfAO JI
On th e one hand, the parent enjoys this li fe substance throug h the child
and id entifies with th e aliveness that the child has (and that the parent
her/him sdf lacks). On the other hand, the pa rent env ies the chiI J '-
alive ness Of enjoymcnt, vicw ing it as an enj oyment properl y belonging
to the parent herlhimself. 80th the dotng parenr and the abusive p<lr
ent are in one sense responses to the initialloss of th e lamella or ali ve
ness that constitutcs Lhem as subjects w ho reprodu ce sexually.
Henry's loss of th e la mella inaugura tes his exisrence as a desiring
subject, but th e lam ella Joesn't sim ply Jisappear: Eraserhead confirms
Lacan's conclusion that "it ca n run around." H enry encou nters this lit
tle piece of him self- or a portion of it-at subsequcnt po ints in th e
film, and eaeh time it appea rs, it suggests the en joym ent that H en ry
now lacks. The lamella appears most conspicllously in me middle of
Hcnry's first fantasy of the Radiato r Lad y. As the RaJiator Lad y da nces
across her small stage in the radiator, pieces of the ameHa drop from
aboye and land on the stage Aoor. In this way, the fil m indi cates now
fanta sy deriv es out of-and hark ens back to--the sexeJ $ub ject's ini tial
loss of the life substance. The subject fantas izes bccause it cannot en
ltirely escape this substance; it always comes back to haunr the subjcct
who exists in the world of desire p roduced out oC its sacrifice.
The loss of the lam elJa prod uces a wo rld in w hich the subi ect con
standy experi ences its ow n lack, and the ob ject th at would fiU th is lack
remains perpetually out of reach. T he 105$ of tbe lamel la aIld .tbe onse t
of mcchanica l production unlca sh a worl d of des ire. But this world is
not, as H eidegge r might put it, Ol!f initial m ode of being-in-me-world.
/\.5 subjects, \Ve create the wo rld of desi re through ou r expcric nce of
loss. According to the logic developed by the fi lm , our determ inate
being-in-the- \.\'o rld is not primord ial bu t the resule of an i_nitial, pre
ontological act that gives st ruc ture ro th e worl d . T houg h we ca n on ly
access this act through the vehicle of fan tasy, ::1l1 um.lerstan d ing of it is
nonetheless crucial for our ability to see the relationship between the
subject and capitalist society.
The Malaise of the Desiring Subject
Lynch sugges ts causali ry by locatin~ thl' lI nl, ' c1ill g 111 tlll' world of de
sire just after th e openng de pinioll 0 1 l kili ~ \ .1< Id I t t ql enJoyment in
ir
the film. It seems as rhis d iss.l li , I.I, .IIPI1 1I :~ ,,1I!. Ir, 11 11 1knry's sacrifice
32 H IE IMP OSSI Bl.E DA V ID lYN; 11
of 'bis enjoyment to the machjnc of capitalst production. This part of
the film begins with a close-up of He nry looking backward over his
shouklcr at what he is in the proccss of walki ng a way from. Though we
see this shot of H e nry looking and a pu zzled or anxious look on his
f:lce, we do not see a reve rse shot of w hat He nry sees (whieh we might
typca Jl y expect in thi s situaton) . In chis world, the obj ect is missing.
Lynch exp resses this absence dlfOUgh the film's form-or through the
absence of the expected form, ,he reverse shot.
T h e fi lm follows the m issing re verse shot with a mise-en-scene that
further stresses absence rather m an presene e. Thi s is espec ially the case
in the wa y that Lynch ligh ts the film-or rathe r in the way that he
doesn 't light the film. Lynch's desire for a dark mise-en-sd:ne even in
formed the way in w hich the negatives were processeJ. While having
the film devdoped, Lynch insis ted on the darkest feasiblc loo k to the
prints. The extreme Jarkness produces a sense of ahsence within al
mos t eve ry shot of the film.
T he Jistri butio n of the light emphasi zes the experience of absence.
L ynch almost ne vcr lig hts a scene even ly; instead, he stresses the con
trast between Iig ht and da rk ness . As Michel C hion notes, "Lynch da rcd
to use li g ht w hich illuminates onl y in pools, so that parts of th e ser re
ma ined in shad ows or in complete dar kness."7 Mue h of th e sense of
em ptin ess rhat Ercuerhead creates stem s from this use of light. We can
neve r look at l scent:' an d experi ence rhe overpresence lhar we are used
to seeing in a film. The gaps in the ligh ting create a world tllat entices
desire by high lighti ng w hat ca nnot be secn or know n.8
Even [he world movcs slowly, struc tured around a circuitous path to
me object of des ire. T he slow nes5 becomes evident w hen He nry enters
rhe e\evat r in his apartment buildi ng for the fir st time. We see a long
shot ofHenry as he enters t.oe dev ator a nd turns to press the button for
h is Aoor, whil e Lynch susta ins the shot unril the deva tor doors close. 1n
itsel f, this is not necessa rily unusua l. But wha t is distinctive is how much
time passes between He nry's pushing the bu tton and the elevator doors
closing. The typical fi lm com presses (h e ti me tbar eleva tor doors take to
close; Lynch elo ngates it: tue doo rs take a full seventee n seconds to close,
d uring w hich time the camera d oes not move. He nry himself doesn't
movc ei ther, wh ich m eans tb at we as spectators mus t en dure scventeen
seconcls ofhlll1 ill "' h icn noth ing at all harr ens. Thi ~ nnl h ing-this tem
poral al)\( 1I1l' \\ Iti 11 11 1he lIarrati\lc SI ru" \1 n.: tiC t h~ fi Im- hcl ps to sign ify
r.A~r. H 'AIl 3.1
that this is a world ofdesire. Desire revolves aroun d absence and depends
on the continual failure ofits oh ject to become presento
Jack Nance plays Henry as a character \;vho nev er moves quickly nor
responds quickly to other characters. W hen "ve first see H enry, he is
slowly wal king home with a sac k of groceries. And Lynch makes his
pace seem e ven slower by shooting long takes ofthis wal k. When Henry
interacts wi tb his neighbor (Judith Anna Roberts) just after arriv ing
home, his slown ess becomes even more apparent. The neighbor tclls
him that his girlfriend Mary (Charlotte Stewa rt) h as calIed and invited
him to dinner, and Henry waits for a prolonged period of time befare
simpl y thanking her for the message. This de la y creates a scnse of awk
wardness, as if something is missing in their conversation, and it under
lines the absence of any fan tasmatic structure in this part of the fi lm.
Fantasy serves to filI in aw kward lacunas just like this one, ro sp<.:ed up
om interactions (and the pace of our lives) so that we don't see the ab
sences. Eut absences characterize our bare socia l realit)' without a fan
tasmatic su pplement.
Henry consta n tly seems ro be miss ing somcthing. He dcs ires some
tbing that rcmains absent or at least concealed , but he does not ev en
know enough about th is object to k now what he desires. Lync h himself
describes Henry in te rms ofthe attitude of desiring subj ectivity: "Henry
is ve ry sure that something is ha ppcning, but he doesn 't understa nd it
at al 1. He w atches things very, very carefully, because he's tryiog to fig
ure the l11 out. . .. E ve rything is new. It m ig ht not be frightening to h im ,
but it could be a key to something. Everything shou ld be looked at.
There could be cl ues in it."9 In this first pa rt of the film, He.nry's desire
does not have the coordin ates that migh t d irect it toward an object. lt is
in this sensc that Henry is the pure subject of desire: his desire is unal
loyed by fantas y to such an extent that it has no d irecti on at a.11 . H enry
privileges no particulas object but view$ the w ho le world as a mystery
that might disclose the object; for him, as Lynch himself notes, every
thing "could be a key."
Both Hcnry's mode of dress and Jack N ance's way of pbying the
role make clear his alienation fram the world in w hich he exists. As
Paul W oods notes, "His relationship with the wo rld i ~ th;lt or a passive,
bemused on looker-h e cannot be said ro lH1V(' .Iny tri le plan: in ir. His
desires are ma ny, but fr ustratcd. " 'o I-kn ry i, .'1 IPlI lll "'wnlinl ~k:s iring
subiect because he is a complete olltsidcl. l it d,,,, lIu' dll"., li ke ~Clme -
3~ Tli< I MPOSS IB LE DA V ID I YN C I1
one who fits comfortably wllbin tlle world tbat he occupies. T h rough
out the film, he wea rs an unfashi onabIc, nondescript suit, pants thal are
too short, and a pocket protector fillc:d with m ulti plc pens ancl pencils.
As Henry, Nance aJ ways mnves mecbanicall y in the film. W hi le he
walks, he seems to pl<lce each foot on the g rou nd with del ibe ration
rather than in l natural manner. He seldom spea ks, an d when he does,
he speaks without much emotion, even in situaLio ns w here we mi ght
expec t an emotional displ ay (a s wh en Mrs. X [Jeanne Ba tes] asks h im if
be'$ had sexual intcrcourse w ith Mary). Nance's portrayal of Henry's
movements and spcech indicares h is aJienated-a nd thus desiring
reIationship to the wo rld.
The association of Henry Spen ce r with desiring subjectivity appears
counterintui live. W hen we think of a subject who desires, we tend ro
th ink of one the opposite of l-Ien ry: emoti onal rather than stolid , viva
cious rather tha n mechanica l, energetic rather than im passi ve. Eut such
an associatio n forgets lhat d esire is equiva lent to lack. The subj ect of
pure desire would be mechanicaJ and im pass ivebccause she/he would
be an embodiment oC lack. Such a subject w ould have no vitaJity at aIl
(which is w hy th e subject of pure d esire is un th inkable for U5). T he de
gree of one's alienation as a subject is at once ch e Jegree of one's Gesire
beca use the alienated subject con sta ntl y expe riences herlh is lack. T he
m ore one feels aliena ted, the mo re one experiences a desire to esca pe
mis alienation, even if the esca pe rema ns unimag ined.
T he fi lm perpetuates Heory 's alieo ation on r.hc spectator. W arching
the film, one m us t end ure the lack oflig ht, the barren ness of the image,
and tbe long stretches of ti m e in whic h nothing happens . This alien
a tion pus hes the specta tor, as it does Hen ry, ioto the position of th e d e
siri ng subj ecl: like Henry, one expe rienct!s on eseIf in the m iddle of a
world that doesn't make sense, and one desires to acccss its mysteries.
O ne expe riences this desire all the more beca use a hidden enjoyment
seems to be lurking ev eryw here just out of reach.
E ojoy rn ent has been reIegated to the margins, outside human
subjectivity-even the film 's aud io track hosts a consta nt din of factory
noises d u ring all of the exterior anG ma ny of the interior shots. The
sounds indi cate acti vity and vitaLty, buri t is the vitality of machines. As
G reg H ainge notes, "T he noise pe rrm:atillg EraJerhead is an industrial
drone which ~ llggests that the vicwer is inhahiting ,\ m ach inic world." "
Visu<l lly,llll' 11II fIIl -nut in dustrial SCtl illgco llll oll'S ;tn cn j( )yn1C' ntthat is
~"~H tl rA (J
locateo elsewhere-in the ycars past, beforc the ste el ba rreis, pi pes, a nd
chai n fe nces by w hich H enry walks became lhe traces of van ished in
dustrial ac tivity.
T he process of industrial ca pital ist productioll fun ctions through the
sac rifice of laborers who work ra the r than en joy t h e mselves. W ithout
this pe rpetu al sac rifice, product ion wou ld come to a stand still. In thi s
se nse, ca pitalist industry feed s off the e nj oyment o f t hose who work fo r
it. Bu r rhe sacrificed enj oym ent does not just disappear. The machin es
of industry themselves manifes t the enjoymen l that h um a n workers
12
have give n u p: they run with a vitality that the human w ork e r lac k s.
The capitalist production process also displays thi s e nj oy m ent throug h
its by-product-su rplus value. According to Mar x, t he cap it~\i s t pays
the wor ker faidy for the va lue of h e rlhi s labor, but wha r the capitalist
appropriates without compensarion is the surplus value tha t the ver y
productivity oflabor generates. Surplus val ue beco m es th e so urce of th e
capital ist's profit, and it conspi cuously alludes to w hat the worke r has
sacrificed.! 3 But the film neve r a ll ows us tu see direcrIy the industrial
production rhat feeds off the sacrifice of enjoyment m ade by subjects
such as H e nry. In th is world of desi re, the re are t races of enj oyment,
bu t e nj oyment itself is always elsew here.
The opposition between the a bsencc of cn joyment 3mo n g humao
subjects aoe! the location of en joym e nt in produc tio n ano the natural
world becomes clea r whcn Hen ry g oes to di noer at Ma ry's house. T he
intera ction between He nry, M rs. X, a nd Mary just after Hen ry 's arrival
d isplays the co nt rast. In the X livi ng roo m, we see Henry a nd Mary sit
ting on a co uch w h il e Mrs . X sits on a nearby chai r. Long stretches of si
lence and misun derstand ing punctua te thei r conve rsa tion . Mrs. X asks
H enry wha t he does, and , after a long pa use, H e nry respo nds, 'T m on
vac.1 tion." This respon se, w hich cl early misundersla nds h er question,
forces M rs. X to ask, "W hat did you do? " The sti ltec.1 nature ofthc con
versation betwce n H enry and Mrs. X re veals th e rol e that lack plays in
this world. Neithe r of these char acters d isplays any ali ve ness in the
sceoe, w hich is w hat makes m e conversa tion secm so difficult.
The gra ndmothe r (Jea n Lange) ex hibits more cClOspicuously the life
lessness at th e X home. Th roug hou t H cnry's c nlin' Vi~l l , she SilS in the
same cha ir in th e kitchc n without sta ndin g up 111 ' 'yi l1 g a word . H c r
onl y movcment occurs w hcn M rs. X uses her 1" 1I' l ' If(~ di!: ~;\ ad. Mr,.
X lays the salao howl in rh e gr:\I1umCltlll' r\ 1. 1\ \ :1111\ pl. if lS , .t. lIll( ll lg~ in
36 TH E I It\PO SSIBLE D AV ID LYNC H
th e gra ndmothe r's ha nds. She stanos hehind the g ramlm oth e r, g rab s
he r hands hold ing the tongs, and to~ses th e sa lad by manipula tiog her
han e! s. This brief seq ueoce hig hligh ts the in activity ofthe granomother.
She exists he re as a lifeless pu ppet, a status confirmed by w ha t happen s
subseq ue ntl y. After using the g ra nd m other to toss the salad, Mrs. X
puts a ciga rette io th e grandmoth er's mo uth and lig hts it. Puffi ng on
th e ciga rette is the on ly activity we see the g rand m other do, thoug h we
never see her Ift hc r hand ro remove the ciga rette from h e r m outh.
ynch draws a ttentio n to her ulter immobiLity in order ro emp hasize
the absence of a nim ation not on l)' in the X fa m ily but also in Henry's
entire worlcl.
Ali ve ness appears w herc we woulJ n 't expcct to see it. T hro ughout
the con ve rsa tio n betwee n Hcnry, M rs. X, and Mary. we hea r in th e back
g rou nd t he obtruJ og no ise of seve ral p uppies suckl ing their mother. Of
course, puppies suckling their mother is not an uncommon occurrence,
bl.lt w hat is uncomm on is its visibility a nd a udibi li ty. After we see Henry,
Mary, and Mrs. X seated in the li ving room, Ly nch cuts to a shot of the
Aoo r tha t graphicall y shows th e puppies a nd lheir mother. The sound o f
rhe suck li ng stands ou t to s ueh an exrent thallhe enrire subsequent con
versation seem s tooccu r in the backgrou nd o[ the suckl ing puppies. This
juxtaposition stresses the eX lreme opposition betwce n the excess o f eo
joyment in the animal world and the lack of it in th e hum a n wo rld.
A simi la r opposition becomes a ppa re nt during the oinn er itself.
Por d inne r, Mr. X (Allen Joseph) prepa res w ha t h e calls "m a n-mao e
rh ickcn." Bu t whcn He nry tries ro cut the "chicken ," it begins to move
spontaneousl y, ano a liqu id oozes ou t of ir. After we ~ee a shot of the
ch icken 's movemen t, Ihe subseque nt shot de picts M rs . X beginning to
co nvulsc al> her eyes rol! to the baek o f her h ead. Lynch ell ts ro a close-up
of the m oving ehicken and then back to a m edi um shot of Mrs. X moan
ing with her head tilted ba ck. The sequeoce of shots here in dica tes a
ca usal rel atiollshi p: M rs. X 's cunvu lsions emerge in response to the man
madc chick en 's di splay of ali ve ness-an aliveness tha t she hersel fl acks .
Eraserhead de picts a world of abscnce in orde r ro sh ow wha t results
from che inilial sac rifi cc of enj oym en t. In ln is worid, th e absen ce of the
objcct-cause of des ire colon; eve ry scem:. Ht n ry exi sts he re as a d issatis
ficd, desir ing subjecr. 13m becawic Iht: di :;s r i s l ~lcr i on ex i~ts in the ve ry
struclu n: tlr Ihe lil m ie wo rld itsd r- -ill 1li t 1I11'il' - t' n 'iCc:nc, in th e ed it
ing, in I ilc 1 1tl1(lO\lfin ll (lf ti1/. ~Ilt lt.. I1 111'\ 11 11 In t' \ Hlt'l1l Ihal H cnry
IIA 5 HlltA l' \1
cannot simply rouse himself: the dissati sfa ction has a constitutive status
for Hcnry and, the film implies, for the subject as such. The dcsiring
subject nece$sarily exists in a world of absence whe re the only satisfac
tion is elsewhere.
The Cause of Fantasy
Despite what we might think, dissatisfaction and frustration alone do
not lead directly to the d eveloprnent of a fantasmatic alternative ro the
world of desire. TypicJ lly, we tend to see fantasizing soiel y as a response
lO dissatisfaction within social reality. F reud gives a general description
of this process in the Clark Lectures. He says, "The energetic and suc
ccssful man is one who succeeds by his cfforts in turning his wi shful
phantasies into reality. Wh ere this fails, as a result of the resistances of
the external world and of the subj ect's own weakness, he begins lO turn
away from reality and withdraws into his more satisfying world of
phantasy, the content of "vhich is transformcd in to symplOms should he
fall ill."14 Here, Frcud claims that fantasy providcs an internal com pen
sation for what the subject fails to attain in rh e external world. In
Emscrhead, Lynch tloes nol so much refute this idea as add a deg ree of
nuance. For Lynch, fa ntasy re mains a response to dissatisfaction wiLb
one's social reality, but it d oesn 't emerge when rhe subj ect's desired ob
jcct is com pletely abscnt. I t emerges at the momen t when the sub ject
encounters a rem inder in the O ther of the subject's ow n lack.
Throughout the beg inning of the fil m , Henr)' endures the dissatis
faction of his existence without recourse to fantasy. W hen Henry enters
his apartment for the first tim e in the film (after srcpping in a puddle
while walking home) , we see him lie on his bed and sta re at the radia
lOr, but at this poillt he doesn't see the fantasm a tic scene that willlater
appear. He think s he has lost Mary, and he sits alone in his apartment
with nothing to do. ln the mid st of the complete absence of the object
of desire , he does not turo to fantas)', though he dnes stare at the spot
where his fantas)' wiII lilter tak e shape. Lynch suggests here that the
subj ec t can endure the absen ce of enjoyment as long as no apparcnt
barrier to this en joyment is visible. Ironi ca lI y, it is the barr ier lo the
suhject's enjoyment rlLat causes rhe subject to cxpe ricnce it.sel r as lack
ing, and the suhject tu rns to fantasy only al tlll' 1l lIJ1l 1l' Ol w heo she/he
must confront this barricr.l 'i
38 fHf IMP O SS I9 LE P" VID lI NCtl
After the din ner scene at the X home, the fi lm cuts ro Mary taking
care of the baby (a startling. re ptilian-like mutant) in H enry's apart
ment. It is onl)' after we see Mary <lnd th e baby at H enry's apartment
that Henry begins to have inti ma ti ons a bou t the enjoym ent that he has
sacrificed. The baby's constant cryi ng signa ls to Henr)' and to th e spec
tator not so much its own enj oyment as H enry's lack of it. The baby
embodies a barrier to H enry's enjoym ent, even though, as we know,
H enry was n't en joying him self before the ba by's a rr iva l anyway. This
contrast becom es evid ent when Henry checks his rnail slot. The first
time that Henry checks his mail slot early in the film, its emptincss is
indicative of the emptioess of his world-the complete absence of the
o bject. Sut whc n Mary and the baby arrive, Henry fin d s a small ohj ect
rhat resembles the spermlike substance from the opening of th e film.
This obj ect is a piece of the life substance that he sacrificed in th e act
that gave birth to H enry's social real ity. The object hark ens back to the
o rig inal lost enjoyment, and it wiil energize his fa ntasies about this
orig inal sta re.
Henry begins to fa n tasize about the Racl iato r Lady after he brings
th is ob ject into hi s apastment. By locari ng Henry's fa o tasy w itlLin th e
radia to r, Lyoch suggests that a relationsh ip exists between the indus
trial worl d and fa nta sy. 00 rhe one h and , Henry tu rns ro faotasy in or
de r to esca pe ch is worlcl ancl the di ssatisfaction rhal ir creates; on th e
orher hand, fantasy eme rges [rom a m ach inc [hat belongs to ch al ~ ame
ind ustrial worla. Famasy is an escape in to ao alterna tive wo rld , but
that new world is the prod uct of the old world tha t oue Aees. T he world
of desirc-the socia l reality- always anchors the wo rld of fantasy. As
Lacan p uts it in Sem inal" X, "The fantasy is fram ed ," just as the materi
ali ty ofthe radi ator provides the frame for the stagc on which the Radi
ato r Lad y a ppears. , 6
Even though this world of fantasy emerges from the m ateriality of
rhe wo rld of desire, Lynch em p hasi zcs its status as otherworldly. The
fi lm 's for rn changes when this fantasy occurs, as if to sugge,t that w e are
entering a n alternate space. W e see H enry looking into the radiator,
foll owed by a shot of two metal doors that cover the entire screen
and open in to com pl ete black ness. O ut of the blackoess, the camera be
g ms to pan along the foot of a stage as a series of lig hts come on oo c
hy n nc. A fte r rh e lighu ng of the last ght, the camera pans lO the feet
uf a wom an '111 1 h<..' sl.Igc. As she starts lo da !lec. thc wholc boJ )' of the
_AH .'f'AO \'1
woman beeomes visible. T h is seene is unlike :1Oy that have come be fare
it: not only is the lighting much brighter than in the rest of the film, hut
the en tire eheery atmosphere of the seene stands in stark contrast to the
samber tone of all the scenes up til! novv.
In rhe fant: 1sy of tbe Radiator Lady, Henry expe riences what he
misses in the world of desire. Here, the object of desire becomes a pres
ent ohject tllat one can see, if not actual1y touch. As Michel Chian notes,
"The Lady in the Radia tar is related to perfect love and the dream of
inccstuous fusiono When Henry comes on to the stage ofhis fantasy and
touches her with his fingertips. a blinding fl as h and a burst of sound are
used to convey the unbearable intensity of this mament ,"17 This kinu of
intensity is entirel y lacking in the world of desire that the rcst of the
film depicts. It serves as a harhinger of the film 's conclusion, in which
He nry's turn to fantasy becomes complete. But Henry's fantas)' at this
point is nat confineu to the encounter with the Radiator Lady; it also
revea ls the truth of his situation w ith lo the system of production.
Du ring rhe famasy seguence, H c nry imagines himsclf on the stage
w irh the Rad iaro r Lad y, w ho holds her hanus ,in front ofher faee inv it
ing h im toward her. But w hen Henry touches her hands, the screen be
comes complerely w hite vvith light-a lig ht so bright that it forces the
speetators to look a way, especially after one h as become accusromed to
looking at such a sparsely ligh ted film. Thi s wh iteness suggests the ulti
m ate enj oym ent embodied in the famasy objeet, b Ul just afte r the expe
rience o f ir, the Rad iato r Lady di sappea rs.
Capitalist Produdio n a nd Human Re produdion
In this fa ntasy sccne, Henry comes close to the en joyment of his fanta sy
obj ect but fina lly cannot reach it. I-lis fai lure exposes hi s castration,
which is the lack of fu ll e njyme nt that every subjeet has ;s a result of
being subj ected to the restr ictions of the social order. 1n psychoanaIytic
term s, castratian is oot a lite ral event but a mctaphorical process that
produces the desiring subjcct. It is the mythical sacrillce of life sub
stance thar occurs at lh e bcginning o f Erascl'hcad. Just as we see castra
tion unfo ld al th e beginni ng o f the film , Henry st:cs it occur du ring the
hn rasy seque ncc thar bcgins w ith th e Ra dial" r 1.'lI ly.
A fter the disappca rance of rh e Radi al'" 1 1' Iy, I 11, IIl II.I~y t"ol1linues as
sorne k i nel of protuherance e m e rges I'r" l\ l I I( 111 >", 11e 111 y .11101 dl'placl:s h is
", THl' ' MPO SS I!1l ( DA" IIJ I YN C II
head , k nocking it to the grou nd. T hc hcael ofth e bahy then rises out of
H enr y's body ancl aSSlUnes the place ofhis head. The sourcc ofHenry's
castratan is n ot, as we might expccl from the standa rd psyehoanalytic
aCCOUnl, a d eman d by lhe social la w thar He nry give up his privleged
lo ve objee t. rns teld,it is H en ry's own baby w hose head emerges out of
H en ry's to rso an d the rcby pops Henry's own head off. This striking im
age suggests Chat the misshapen ba by is itself the SOurce of Henry's cas
tra tion. T he link bctwee n the ba by ane! ch e subject's lack de rives from
thc rep rod uetive p rocess. In the act of reproducti on, the subject attests to
it" 5taLUs as lacking-a.s a sexed bcing. 1f the subject w ere com plete in it
self, it woul d nave no n eed or even ab ili ty to reproduce itself. When sexed
rep rod uetio n occurs, the child emerges as a replacement for the parents
and em bodi es rhe life substance lhat they ha ve sacrificed. 18 Thus, as
Hegel puts it, when parents g ive bi rt h ro a chi ld , "they generate their
Ow n dealh." '9 I n Heruy's fan rasy sequ ence, he is able to witness this pro
cess ar wor k in a way that remain s vci leo in the ordinary experience of
rcality. T haL is to say, subjects typicall y don't see directly the role that
hei r ehil drc o p la y in ()b jecti fying o r sig nifying thei r eastration . But be-
c;wse fantasy hrings lhe subjeet ha ck ro lhe n onexis tent m oment oforigi
nary loss, ir allo ws thc suhjee t to see the impossible.
By a l/owing rhe subjcct this view oCthe impossible, rhe faDtasy lies.
Ir narrates o r temporal izes ao ex per icnce of 1055 th at has no tempo ral
existence. Loss constitutes tbe subiect as a subieet; to nar ra re tbis IOS5 is
ro imagine a su bjeet prior [o 10sS---<Jr a su bject existing p rior to bccom
ing a subjecL I n doing so, fantasy crea tes a sense of paranoia in the sub
ieer: rarhe r rhan seein g its loss as cons tuti ve, the subject ide ntifies an
age nt responsible for lhe loss-in Henry's case, the baby. C lea rly, Henry
lived in a desolate wo rlc.l barren oE en joy men t be fore the arrival of the
baby, b u t lhc fant3SY locales the theft of Henry's enjoyment in this fig
ure. [n (lne sense, the Ca ntas y c.Ieceives H e nry concerning the real source
ofhis di ssalisfaction, but in ano ther scnse il provides him with a unigue
glance at wha t his everyd ay life obscures. Fantasy's lie acts as a vchicle
th ro ug h w hi ch it can reveal a fllnd il me l1tal truth about suhjectivity.
T he ins ig ht of Henr y's fa n rasy ~eq uence stems from the relationship
that it e n visions between th e 10$5 tha! oceurs in sexed reprod u etioo (in
sexuatjm as 'iUch) a nd thc IOS5 lha l occms (i.r I'he labo rer llnder capital
ism. This is iI vo.:cd qucsrion for psycl lllan.dysi s. ;l nd it oftcn C;)lISl'S his
t()rici\1 d lll d l " 111 di .. rni~l' thl' p"'YC hll:II1; lylil' ;I, '<'I1\1n l .. 1' (';ISITatillfl .
I ~A.!Hlll' ",U 41
This account, so the critiq ue goes, conceives a structural process at work
when the process is actuall y historically rooted .20 That is to say, for its
detractors the psyc hoanalytic narrative of castration fails to accommo
date historical variegations- spec ificaUy, the form of loss that capital
ism prod uces 'l the subj ect.
But Lynch makes clea r the connection hetwcen the loss that accom
panies sexed reproduction and the loss necessitated by capitalist pro
duction when the film depicts the role that Henry's head plays in the
productive process. After the dream sequence d epicts Henry's head
falling to the g round , we see a puddle of blooo form around it, and
cve ntually the head surreally d rops through this puddle onto the ground
outside Henry's apartment building. Through this scemingly impossi
ble sequence of even ts, the dream logic connects Henry's private psy
chic drama to the functionin g of society as a whole. Lynch 's film em
phasizes here the interconnection of these two realm s despite their
seeming incongruity.
After Henry's head bUs ro th e g round ou ts ide, a young boy runs and
picks it up. He brings Henry 's head to a pencil factory where he tri es ro
seH it. The factory buys the head from the boy after a tec hnician tests its
usefulness by dri lli ng into it and cxtracting ma terial to insert into a ma
chine that produces penci l erasers. After the machine prod uces an
eraser with rhe material from Henry 's head, the technician tests the
eraser ro confirm that it works properl y. We see Henry's ca straton di
rectly providing th e material for th e producti on of a com modiry. 2\
But not just any commodity. Hen ry fantasi zes his head becom ing
material for an cras cr becausc it allows him to im agine h imself pla ying
a pan in the elimination of the materiali ty of the signifi er. Not on ly is
Henry subjected to the signifier li ke a1l of us, but he also works as a
printer: his labor involves the production of signifi ers. T he eraser un
does this lahor and rcnd ers t useless. Thc fanta sy thus provides a n ave
nue through which H enry can nega te the source of his dissatisfaction.
But the by -product of this p rocess is an insight into the violence of the
prod uctive apparatus.
Clearly, no one m.1kes erasers from human heads. But wha t Lynch's
film suggests here is the ability of capitali~1 produ ction lO capiLa lize
00 the loss th at occurs in castration. 1.Vl 1 v ~"n : d urdl'r dLmands
castra tion-th:Jt is, it d em an ds a sacri licl' "r I 1\ (11\ 111 1 111 by Ih ~ lI h j ects.
\~ hat makes caIJitalislrJ disti ncl, an'II IIlill}! 1' , d. ,_ d" !li l W'lll~'nce of
~2 [Itr IM P OSS IBlE OAV lfl I Y~I~I '
Eraserhead, is what it dnes w ith th e sac ri fi ce. It uses the sJcrificed cn joy
m ent ro feed its cve r-ex IJ<lOd ing p roouction process. Th ere is a direct
link betwecn individual acts of sac rificing enjoyment a nd the growth of
ca pitalism. Th is is w hat Ma rx is ge tti ng at in the 1844 ManU5cript5 when
he claims,
The Iess )lou ea t, dri nk and buy books; rhe Icss you go tu the thea ter
the da nce hall , the public house; the less you think, love, theo rize,
sing, pa int, fence, erc, the m ore yousa ve-the greater bcco mes your
treasure whi ch neither m orhs nor dust wi ll devour-your capital .
The less you are , the less you exp ress your own life, the grearer is
your alienated !ife, the more you have, tbe grearer is your store of
cs tranged being."
Capitnlism requires an ev er-increasing g uanti ty of sacrifice-the ced
ing of enj oyment for wh ar Ma rx calls "est ranged being"-since the acts
of sacrificc feed rhe g rowt h thar capitalism must have .
To our contem porary ea rs, Marx's idea th ar cap ital ism d ema nds th ar
we catod rin k, and bu y less seems ahs u rd . Consum er capira lism not only
tolerates excessive eating, drin k i ng , and buying, but it aCLU3Jly demands
rhese activities, just as it cliscourages saving. BUl ro dismiss Ma rx's c1a im
as anachronistic in our cu rrenl version ofcap itali sm would miss th e im
portance o f the contrast he clraws. A capitali st economy d ema nds that
we place an emphas is on havi ng rather than be ing, and it p rompts us to
tbink of all ou r expe riences in ter ms of what we can llave. Even in con
sumer capital ism , rhe log ic ofh av ing predomi nates. O ne wan ts literally
to ha ve agood time, notro allow oneself to enj oy.23 T he mO re we wa nt to
have, the m ore we support th e m achinery ofcapitalist production.
But rhe su bject unde r ca pitalism is not simpl y a hopeless victim ofthis
producti on p rocess. As Lynch indicares throug h this drea m sequence, a
way out exi sts throug h fanrasy. F antasy has a rad ical potential beca use it
can rendcr visible the subject's castra tion and the role that this castration
plays in the fun ctio nillg of capital ist society. It stages H enry's castration
fo r h im t hrough th e way tha t it presents the impossible ohject. As long as
Henry exists as a su bject in the w orld of cl esi re, he experie nces a vague
..enseo flack, hu t he never gra$ps exacLl}' wha t ba rs his access to tbe priv i
leged ohj ('( 1. 111 dli., wor ld. rhe objc.ct is si m pl), ; hst: nt. But in lhe fantas
m" ti~- tlt litlll , d u. ,I!lt('f hcc()me~ prescn l ;In.! sccrni llg ly alcl's~ihlc. T hc
NA .\ / RIII AD A~
 illusion of the ohject's accessibility allows Henry to see his castration as
the barrier preventing him from attaining it and to ~ee tbe role that his
castration plays in mechanical proJuction. Thc vision provided hy fan
tasmatic expcricnce cnahles him to struggle against the perennial dissat
isfaction that had h ithe rto Jefined his existence.
The Proximity of the Enjoying O ther
Aftcr Henry awakens from m e dream, the film indicates that he expe ri
ences a chan ged reality. The first shot aftcr the el ream sequence shows
him waking up in his bed in his apartment. What is instantly striking in
this shot is the lack ofthe noise that we usually hear in the apartment
the baby crying. This absence provides the first due that sometning has
changed, which H enry's sl.lbsequent glance out th e window confirms.
This look out the window is shocking in the first instance simply beca use
Henry can see outdoors. Though prior to the dream a brick wall was
flush against the window, e limi nating any possiblc view, now the wall no
Jonger cxists. Looking through the wi ndow, H e nry sees someone vio
lently assaulting another person oL ik e the very existence of the wi ndow,
this incidcnt tells us a great dcal aboul the transformation that H enry has
undergone in his drcam.
Wh e rea s bdore the dream He n ry Jives in a worlJ of abscnce and 1i t
tle enjoyment, the postdream wo rl d forces H enry to expe rience the en
joymcnt that occurs around him. Rccau se the drca m faotasy aJl ows
H enry to witness his o wn castra tion, he now fecl s his ow n failure to
enjoy- and the ubiquitous enj oy rnent of th e O ther- a ll the more ta n
gibly. The unav oidable dissatisfaction of the bricked -over w indo w
gives way lO a n image of viole nt enjoyment and mus prese nts a turn
from absence to presence. H cnry can now see w hat lay hidden in the
empty spaces and ahsences o f the w orld of Jesire, a nd this changes me
way that he exists as a Jesiring subject.
The visibili ty of cnj uyment becomes m ast apparent in H enry's rela
tionship ,vith his ne ighhor. When she appears in the first part of the
film, the neigh bor exud es a sense of m ystery. bUl Ht:nry neve r learns
anything about her. 1n the d ream sequence. l-k llry r;lnw si zc.: ~ ab ou t the
neighhor having sex w it h hi m in h is hedo A h " 1 Ih~' <i n'am, I! mvc.:vcr, dle
status of the neigh bor ch a Jl gcs dramali, .dl, WI" 'I\ Il i 111.11 \.1 110ise in
the hall, H enry opcns his d l)() r an" " '1;;-' tl l!' 111. 1L', l d ulI \' IIh ,llIlI lhl.: r mano
44 T HE IMP O$SIUlt DI'IVI Il I Y N C ~I
From H enry's perspective, we see lhe roan g ropin g the ileighbor as she
is opening [he door ro hc.:r apartmt:nt. Then \Ve sec the neighbor look
ing Jirectly at He nry with a puzzled expressio n. A reverse shot sho\Vs
the head of the baby on H enr y's shoul dcrs in me place of his own head.
This sequcnce reveals the presence of enjoyment surrounding Hcnry,
but it also depicts his own scnse of ca strarion (and the visihility of that
castration). H enry quickly shuts the door aftcr this encounter a nd sta res
through the key hole as the door to th e neighbor's aparun ent shuts be
hind the couple. After this encounte r w ith the enjoying other and with
he foregrounding of his own cast ration , Henry lashes out violently
aga ins r the baby.
Cutting awa y the baby's bandages-an act signifying H e nry's re
fusal to accept the restrictions that the social order places on one's
enjoym ent-has t\Vo re!ated effEcts, anJ hoth inJicate ao attempt to
unleash enjoym ent. The most obvi ous effect is the death of the baby it
self. H enry's fantasy has shown him the part mat the baby pla ys in his
castra tion, a nd he re H enry responds by deslroy ing the baby, tbereby
re jecting that castration and ts a ttendan t IOS5 u f en joyme nt. T he scc
ond efreet is metaph or ical: Hen ry a ll ows the insi des of th e baby ro burs t
fo n h. T he act of sta bbing these insi d es with his scisso rs, though it kills
the baby, rcleases a huge q uantity of foarny substa ncc from w ithin th e
ba by. T he fi lm dc picts lhis substa nce oozing o ut and coro plete ly cove r
ing its bod y. Here, \.Ve see unleas hi ng of bodil y enj oyment a fter che so
cial restri ctions have be.en cut away. T h is u nleas hin g of enjoyment de
stroys the baby, di srupts the rnec hanisms of prod uction, and even
crea tes a hole in the world. But it frees He nry from his castration and
makes it possible for him to expe rie nce rh e di rect contact with his fan
tas y obj ec! tha t was prev io usly impossible.
By detaili ng Henry's violcnr des truction of the helpless baby, Lynch
begins to e1aborate the price lhat o ne pays for the realization of one's
fa ntasy. The grotesque form of the baby doe~n't necessarily Icssen the
horror of m e acto But nonetheless, the film depicts it as a triumph for
He nry. The condusion that this act brings about prov des its implicit
justification.
Ly nch's poi nt he re is not mat we m us r kili pu r children jf we are to
c njo)' ourscl ves. I t is ra the r that che re:lli za riol1 uf flntas y, w hile fu lly
possibk. is : j way~ viole nt. In rhe <I n of n::d i;il1g Ilnc\ f:1rlta ~y . o ne nec
essari ly .1, 'lI(1y~ ~t1 I, H ha rr ic r ro cnjoyrnt' 111 I kl1 1:\I\ I.Isy posits. Fl'lLier
/ ... \ / ~! , r"o 1',
head im plicates th e spectator directl y io H enry's act o f destructioo be
cause it in vests the spectator io the rea lization ofH enry's fantas y.
A t this ca rl y point in hi s filmmaking car ec r, Lynch is at his most
am bivalent ahout rem aioing true to onc's LlOtasy. Th ough he de picts
H e nr y's reality as oppressi \"C a nd restri ct.iog, he emphasizes the de
stru cti l"c ;'less of Henry 's embrace of the fantasm a ti c alterna tivc. In the
Iast instancc , l:'mserhead endorses H enry's act as a political gesture th at
uol eashes the enj oy mcnt tha t he has sacrificed to capita list p roduction .
T he fl m co nceivcs of allegia nce to fantasy as a moJe of combating cap
itali sm . But this end o rsement d oes not come w ithout a caveat.
Having It All
E raserhead ends in th e way th at ev ery David Lynch film ends: the pro
tagoni st realizes he rlhi s fantasy a nd achieves a m oment of complete
sati sfac tioo. This would seem to locate E raserhead , despite its hi za rre
stru cture, w irhi n the orbit of tradition a l Ho llywood film. In the typical
Holl ywood fi lm , the suhj ect a lso real izes its fanta sy-as, fo r instance,
at th e co nclusion of Pretty Womal1 (Garry Marshall, 1990) when the
w t:a lthy Ed wa rd (Richard Gere) arri ves in a lim ousine tCJ ask the pros
ti tute V ivian (Julia Robe rts) to m a rr y h im. lo term s of its narrati ve tn
jtc tory, the conclusion of E raserhead is evc ry bi t, if not m o re, fa ntas
ma tic: He nry m a nagcs to cm b race th e w holly faota sma tic- a nd
h ith erto ou t of reach-Rad iator Lad y, anJ we see their embrace bathed
in ao ethereal w hi te Lig ht . The Jiffe re nce between these two cooclu
sions lies in their explora tio n of the full conseq u cnces th a t attcnd fan
ta sm atic fu lfi ll ment.
In the case of Pretty Womal1 (o r any ty pi ca l Holl ywood film ), the cul
minating fan tasy has th c powe r to sol ve an tagonisms-that is, sexual o r
el ass antago nisms- that rhe na rra tive has p rcv iously explored . But the
film neve r ~ hows u s the cost of th is solution . The resolution has no eE
fcct o n the struc ture of th e ~o c i a l order, o n the des ire of the cha racters
in volved , or o n the stru cture o f rhe narra ti ve itself. Ir is precisely thi s la
cuna tha t locares Pretty Wom an w ithin th e o rbit of the trad itio nal H ol
ly"vood 61m. [o thi s sen se, uJllike Pretty Wornan, Eraserhelld refuses to
employ fa ntasy a nd hold i l at a d ista nce sirnllltam: ' )lI ~ l y. h <.:vinces a fuI!
commi tment to fa ntas)' in its de no uemc nt, :1 11" 1!1i, 1"11 11 c"l)l\Jm itJu ent
exposes both fantas y's l iberati ng possihil ji il , ,1 1111 11\ ~ Iq! ! I r ll\IS.
4/, IH( I MrOSS I 9 Ll DAVI D InlC 11
Afte r Henry dcst roys the baby, th e fi lm 's form changes in o rd er
to convey lhe un leas h ing of en joyment. The Iights in H enry 's apart
ment begin ro fl icke r. At an dectrical o utlet whe!"e a lamp is pluggeJ
in , spa rks Ay ou t. A backgro und hu m grows louder and loude r. The n
Lynch inelu des a series of al te rnating shots of H enry's head and the ba
by's hea d in ra pid succession . T his scq uCllce co nelu ues with a c\ose-up
uf the lig h t, w hich fi na ll y burns ou t into a total da rkncss th a t covcrs the
scrccn. Nex t, the film cuts ro a shot ofth e p la net (from the opcning se
que nce) brea k ing opeo . T hc dust fro m thi s expl osjo n sparkles behind
Hen ry's head in a sho t tha t p laces Henry in fr o nt of a bl ack backg round .
A fter this fa m ous imagc of He nr y, rh e cam e ra return s to the pl anet and
mov es fo rward into thj: hole rhat has brokeo ope n. T he subseguent
sh o t of the m an in rhe cahin indi ca tes th e effect that H enry's choice of
refusa l of castration h as on th e m echa n ica l p roduction process. W e see
hi m st rivng to hold the fina l leve r in place, but he cannot. The film
fad es to white, and the Radiator Lady ap pea rs. She walks forwa rd and
hugs Henry, as he a ttains the hithe r to inaccessibl e fantasy objec t.
With th is co ncludi ng em brace of the Radiato r Lad y, H e nry fin a lly
escapes the JissaLisfaction lhat has haunred him througho ut the film .
He d iscovers the e n joymcot ma t der ives from emb racing one's private
fantasy. Through rhe act of opting for hi s famasy. Henry atta in s enj oy
me nt but shalters h is wod d ano destroys hi s h;1by. Of cour se, this wo rl d
i~ bleak industri alized wastelaod , an d his baby is inh uma n. lo this
sen se, Henry 's aCl ar the end of me fi lm SCems perfecrl y justi6ed and
even a ppropriate. However, even if the fi na l lurn to w C! rc! fan rasy is Jib
erating , Ly nch neve r allows us ro forge t th at it necessita tes destr uctio n
as wd!. One has a cho ice, the sarue choice tha t eve ry su bject has as it en
tcrs the soc ial ord er: cither dissa tisfaction w ithin a consi stent soc ial re
ality or e n joyment witholltit. By retu rni ng to this choi ce a nd revc rsing
hi s earl ier decision , Henry fr ees h imself fro m his own sacrifice, just as
the film suggests tha t we ca n. 2~
T he em brace of fa llta sy d cstroys th e con sistency of Our social rcality
beca use its consistency depcnd s on the sha red sacrifi ce of enjoyment. If
even one su b ject aban dons rhis sacrifice, such ao act c rca tes .a di stur
bance in our social re~djty. T he political irnp licarions of e m bracing o ne 's
fantasy stCI11 (mm it~ lin k l O the r e fusa 1 o( sac rifi cc. The subject who
rduses In ,arri[,n ' .\1 rhc same time rc fll st:s rhe capi ta li sr prouuction
pm,c.:~\ ;11101 " ' II'~ \
1"II' lIft. 1/1 ,he world \I''' Iai nn l by ,!Ji, proccss.
, ~;,SI RHC#.P ~ I
 In Eraserhead, Lynch revea ls how the capitalist systern of production
clpitali zcs on th e sacrifice of e nj oy ment that th e subject makes in the
act of becoming a sexed being. This sacrificc produces dissatisfaction
for the subject, bue it also produces the surplus enjoyment that rno ves
the gears of capitalist producti o n. By accepting our dissa tisfaction, we
TWO The Integration of the Impossible Obj ect
sus tain this movcment. The film thus com pels us to s.ee our individual
complicity in the furtherancc of this prod uction process. Howeve r, the in The Etephant Man
attempt to escape this state of dissatisfaction cannot OCCUf without vio
lence. As El'tlserhcad shows, we can get what we want-we can accom
plish the impossible-and esca pe the chronic dissatisfaction of the capi
talist world, but we can't do so without the destruction of the world
itsclf.
This is a barrier that few, <.:ven the most rad ical subjects, are able ro
cross. Our inv es tment in the capitalist world derives from the stable
grounding tha t it provides for our identity. In Semina l' XX, L aca n points
out that a secure and constant "meaning is provided by the sense eac h
of us has of being part of hi s world."25 O ur wo rle! is not just a place we
inhabit; it is a fictional center to which we can always appea!. Spec ifi
cally addressing the leftists in h is audie nce, L aca n te lls them, "you are A Doubly Divided Film
more attached to it than you care ro know and would do \Vd l to sou nd Emserhead (1 977) est~lblish ed Lync h as a signifca n t new voiee in in de
the ue pths of your attachme nt. "21i Eraserhead offers subjects-Ieftists pend ent cinema , but not man y people saw the fi lm . Ir screened prim ar
and all others-an opportunity to "sound the dcpths" of their attac h ily a t m idn ight showi ngs in New Yo rk C ity, w hich a llo wed it to att ract
ment to th e dissatisfactions of the capita list worl d. By prese nting the a cult follow ing. Rcspected di recto rs like John W ate rs and Stanley K u
destruction of this world ane! the m e.l n ing it provicl es as tb e price for brick nociced and app recia red the film , bu t ir was Mel Broo ks anu bis
escaping its chains, Lynch cleman ds th at we con fr on t the ulti m ate bar love oC th e film t h al tra nsform ed Lynch's film m aki ng cart er. A fter
rier to political acts---our in vestm e nt in the very str ucture tha r o ur acts watching a p riva re screen ing of the fi lm , Brooks offered Lynch the
wou Id con test. chance to d irect a project r.ba r he was p roducing for Paramount. This
project beca me The Elephant Man (1980). the film that brought Lynch
an ex ponential increasc in publ ic and critical recog n ition. Whe reas
Eragrhead toiled away as a m idn ig ht m o vie, Tlze E lcphant Man ea rned
Academ y Award no minations for Best Picture, Best Director, Bes t
Screenpla y, and Best A ctor (John Hurt). It changed Lynch's life.'
T he turn from Fra.serhead to The Elephu17t Mar is a tu rn from in
depen dent and ex perimental filmm aking to Hollywood cinema. But
Lynch's fu ndam en ta l conce rns as a fi lmmaker nonetheless remain con
st:lnL Tht Rlcplw llf Ma11 de velops a nd radiGdi zes the distincti on tha t
Ems(!/,/ md d r W~ 1)('1 Wl'en the world of de,in.; ;lJlJ l he wn rl d o ( fan ta sy.
HL'n:, tl l (~ \\lI d d IIf CIIII : I ~y loses th t; dn:a mlike llu nlily Ih:1 1 ir h;lS in

4~ IH~ IMPOSS I Rlr O... V IU tUI< 11

4 1J
Eraserhead and becomes anoth er mode of rea lity itself. That is, The Ele
phant Man de piets two ve rsions o f reality--one stru ctured through Je
sire and the other through fantasy. In the same wa y as Eraserhead; the
film uses this division in order to reveal what res ults when one fu\ly re
a'zes one's fantasy. Through the tum away from desire, both the spec
tatar and the ce ntral characters are able to realize th eir fanta sies, but
this rea li za tion comes at a visible cost. Fantasy allows the subject to ac
compJish the impossiblc but does so by destroying the subject itself.
Whereas Eraserhead shows how the reali zation of the fantasy necessi
tates an act of violent des truction, The Rlephant Man revea ls that the vi
olence m ust also be d one to oneself. 1n this sense, L)'nch suggests that
th e subject retains its subjective id enrity by sustaining distance from its
fundamental fantasy. The Elephant Man erases thi s di stan ce w hen it
turos from the Jepiction of a worl d of desire to immerse us fully in a
wo rld of fantas)'.
Mos t c ritics havc noticed th e radical division that exists in the rea li ty
th at The Elephant Man prese nts. F o r instance, Ma rtha N ochimson notes
that "the dop pelganger effect of mod el Victorian Jife and its shadow is,
as in Blue Velvet, rend e reo with adear division betwee n the two, offe r
ing an elementary Lynchia n d epiction of the caroi valesq ue relatiollship
between social order and social disorder."2 Fo r Nochimson, the pri
mary di visioll in the film exists between the kind ness shown for Joho
Merrick (John H urt) during the d ay and the exploita tion of him at
night. Merrick's d octo r Fred erick Trevcs (A nthony Hopk ins) is the
re presentative figure of the fir st realm . and the nig ht po rter (M ichael
Elphick) is the re presentat ive fig ure of the second . BU{ this d ivision he
t\Vee n the daytime kindness of T reves and the nighttime ex ploitati oll of
the night poner is not a divisio n berwee n a world of desire and its fan
tasmatic underside. It represents rwo d iffere nt m odes of fantasmatic
expe rien ce-one posi tive and one negative -and it serves to obscure
the m ore radical split between the wo rld of desire and the world of fan
tasy that Lynch establish es in the film.
Lynch creates the dis ti nction between experience structured through
desire and experience struc tu red th roug h fantasy in the wa)' that he de
pl oys the g rotesque body of John Merr ick . T hc mosr con t roversial d eci
sion that Lynch m aJe as the young director <Ir T/t' ':Lt'f1/wl7t lvfan was
his refusal to show Merri ck 's body fur l \ ~' h r~ 1 Ihill\' IlI imllcs of the
~o I Hf I", PQSS I BU D" VI D lYN r : 1I
film. Eut the oecision is essential ro the structu re of tbe film : Merrick's
body initially fun ctions as a present a bsence in the film, produc.i ng a
world of d esirc in which the obj ec t-cause of desire-Mcrrick's boJy
itself- remains an absence that attracts and structures our desire.
Laca n distinguishes between the actual object of desire and the ob
jec t-ca use of d csire, which he calls rhe objet petit . Unlike objects of de
sire, which we access all the time, the objet petit a remai ns fundam en
tally inaccess ible. It has no actual exi stencc but nonetheless se rves to
trigge r the desire of the subj ect. It is the inAection th at tran sforms the
everyday object into al1 object of desire, thereby e rotici zing the visual
field. The su bject d oesn't sce the objet petit a, but its abscnce from the
visual fidd is what mak es the subject desire to look. The re pulsiveness
of Me rrick's actual hooy in no way disgualifies it from playing the role
of the objet petit a hecause this object is constitutivel y absent anJ cannot
become presento
Fantas)' en visions access to this im possible obj ec t, allowing us to see
what otherwise remai ns invisi ble. Ir provides enjoyment fo r lhe subject
precise!y beca use it changes the impossible obj ect in to a possible one.
When Lynch exposcs Merr ic k 's body after th e fi rst thirty minutes of t he
fil m, we e nte r a wo rld of fantasy in w hi ch a fan tasmat ic scena rio al lows
LIS a m od e of access to the impossible obj ect. In rh is way, The E lephant
M an opera tes a roun d th e same splil that an ima tes all of Lynch 's fil ms .
The Inoccessibility of the Horrible Object
A ftcr JO in itial m ontage sequence tha t attem pts ro con vey the trau m a tic
elcphant a ttac k that allegedl y produced the di sfigurement of John Mer
rick, The Elephant Man begins with an emphasis on the intense enjoy
m e nt that accompa ni es the expe rience of seeing Me rrick. W e see Treves
at a cami val frea k show on a quesl ro glimpse the E lephan t Man. This
scene begins w ith a dose-up ofblasts of fire ar the carni val, anJ then the
film cuts to a tracking shot of Treves as he walks through a bustling
th rong of people. This shot stresses the fren eric activity of thi s crowd,
and eventually the ca rnera even loses sigh r of Treves am idst this activ
ity. After w e lose sight of T reves, Lynch cuts to a sig n that says
"FREAKS" and to a d ose-u p oF a donr tbat sa ys "No E ntry" aboye it..>
T hese two s h lll ~ l:~tablis h the idea of alll"llj o)'Illl" llt ("FREAKS") rha t is
1/1/ IH'P//"'N I M"N :.1
off- limits (" N o E ntr)' ''). On hi s wa y to sees th e fr ea b, Treves passes
through another ooor th at says "No Entry" and walks through labyrin
thine narrow co rridors. W e even see a woman being leo in tears out of
the exhibit, which suggests the trauma :lssociated with see ing Merrick .
The sig ni fi ers that appear in thi s scene-"FREA KS' ano "No
Entry"-indicate in simi lar w ay s th e presence of en joym enr. Enjoy
ment d eri ves from an encounter "vith a symbolic limit and thm requires
the limit. 4 Th e freak show all ow s the subj ect a ttending it to transg ress
the dictates of their own co nscience that tells them of its inhum anity
and barbarity. On e enjoys a freak sh ow not in spite of one's moral re
vul sion at the idea but because of ir. Th e spectacle allows th e sUbject to
enjo)' violating its intern al superegoic comm and . The sig n that says
"N o E ntry" performs a simila r function in rel ation to the external law.
It provides [he subject w ith a sig nifie r ofla w that th e subj ect can enj oy
transgressing. He re we see th e most fund amental function of the super
ego and the la w: they act as vehicles fo r our enjoyment through the
limits that they establis h..5
\Vhen Treves fin ally traverses all the barri ers to the Elephan t Man
exhi hi t and is on the ve rge of seeing Mer rick for the first time, a police
officia l cl oses the exh ibi r. T he offi cial tells Bytes (Freddie Jones), Me r
ri ck 's "m anager," that the ve ry g rotesque ness of Me rrick preclud es his
publi c oistJlay. The exchange between the officiaJ and Bytes helps to
crea te a sense of the extre m e na tu re of Merrick 's defo rmity and thus
al so the inc red iblc en joymen t that wou ld come from looking at him:
P OLl CE OFP lCIAL: T he exh ibit deg rades everybody who sees it,
as well as the poor crea tme himseLf.
B YTE S; He is a fr ea k. How clsc wil l he ive ?
P OLl CE O FF ICIAL: F rea ks art: one th ing. We have no objection
to frea ks. But this is e ntirely d ifferenr. T h is is m onstrous. Ir
shaJl n ot be aUowed.
Th ro ug h th is d ialogue, th e fi lm esta bli shes the a bsolute prohibition 00
see ing Merr ic k a nd fur the r locates him as an ohj ect-cau se desire. A fter
th e po(jce offi cial"s ha r ~1l1g11e against Bytes. Ihe poli ce lIslwr ,111 t he spec
tators, incl udi ng T reves, (lul o f rh c blli ldi llg tl ' ;lI I l" " ~l" f\t~r ll ck. In a
fin al shot, che film shows Rytes s:1 )' ing to th, 1111""111 'tu t 11 k, "Time to
m ovc agai n, rny t rc:m m:."
~~ r 111 I M~O~) r~1 1 OAV I" 1VNOI
Lync h begi ns the fi lm wirh ch is (ailed encounte r with the Elephant
Man in order to 10c:1 te him beyo nd the field of representatio n. Th e in
terdicti on of tlle object work s both w ith in the fi lm and in the film 's re
laon ro the specta tor. T he spectato r experie nces the impossibility and
p rohibi tion of the objec t jllst as Treves and the oth cr cha r~lCters in the
film do. By stressing th e impossibilil)' o f the object on both evels, Lynch
allvws Lhe specrator to expe rience m e desi re that structures the fi lmic
world he presen[s.
O n ch e leve! ofna rrati ve, che opening sequen ce is un necessary. Lyn ch
might have begun the film wi th T reves's next attempt to see Merrick,
wh ich is successful, but he chooses to begin with the initial failed en
counter in o rder [o place the spectator in the position of the desiring
subj cct. When one goes to see a fil m like TJze Elephal2t Man, on e is to a
certn extent p repa red for t he g rotesq ue. H owe ver, by thwarting our
encou nter with cll e g rotesq ue and by surrounding th e E le phan t Ma n
with rhe au ra o fim possibi li ty, Lync h sugges ts that Me rrick's grotesque
ness wi ll transcend whateve r expectati ons we lTligh t hav e.6
T he subsequent scenes in th e fi rst th i r ty mi nutes of the film all o\\! liS
c10ser ~lCCt'SS to the fig ure of Mcrrick, but they lea ve him beyon d the
field o[ rep resentarion. It is as ir m e prohi bi tion disappea rs-the poli ce
no Iongcr deny T revt:S and the spectato r access to Merrick- but th e
impossibiJ ity orthe object rema ins. On his next visir to see me Elephant
Man, T reves succeeds in seei ng h im, bu t we as spectato rs do not, Ly nch
sh oots this $cene in such a way th at it furt her est~ bl ishes Merrick 's sta
tus as the oNet petit a or object-Cl l,l Se of desire inso fa r as it sustain s him
as a constiturive absence in the visual ficld w hich eroticizes that fielo .
We see Treveswalk through a dilapidated slu m in order to arri ve at
me sire where Bytes is now kecp ing Me rrick . Bytes initiall y refuses to
allow Trcves to see Mc rrick. However, when T reves offers [ O pay for a
look, Bytes opcns a door ro an image of tow l da rkness as a low ton e be
gins ro sou nd in rhe bac kground . Bytes th en lea os Treves down a hall
way to the room w here he has Mc rrick . In this room , Bytes gives hi s
standa rd speech rccollnting the tragic history of the E le phant Man
how h is cl isflgurement resu lts from 3n elephant attack on his mother
cl uri ng hc r pregnancy-and rhen m e boy who works for him puJls
bnck lhe cnn nin ro revea l che Eleph ant Ma ll . Sur im reaJ of sceing Mer
riek h ill1 ~c' l r, \\'l' ~( ' l :1 rcanion $hQt oCT ri. ve~, who looks sh ckcu , fol
lowl'c1 I,)' n!t" .( II p~ nf Bytes :Inel rl1t" ho y, Firl1l lly, d ll' (i lll l shttws Mc r
' /u' f U~ /l MH MAll ,' ,1
rick himsclfin the subsequent shot, though only the outline ofhis figure
is vi~ib lc because of the extreme darkness of the shot. The scene contin
ues with another reaetion shot ofTreves, and as the camera moves for
ward to a c1ose-up ofhis face, he begins to cry. In the conclu di ng shot of
this seene, Treves moves forward to exa mine Me rrick , but just when he
begins to remove Me rrick's hat and mask, the film faJ es to black. At
cvery point in this scene, Lynch buil ds the spectator's desire to see Me r
rick and subsequcntly frustrates that desire, placing the figure of Mer
rick at the center of the spect3tor's Jcsire.
This world of desire continues eve n after Trevcs brings Me rrick to
the hospital. In fact, Lynch goes to extreme cinematic Icngths to sustain
Merrick as an im possible object during Treves's Iecture to his colleagues
coneerning Merrick's case. During this lecture, Treves displays Merrick
publicl y in order to illustrate the case while he kctures on it. Lynch be
gins with a long shot of Treves Iccturing with Merriek positioned next
to hi m behind a eurtain . During the leeture, we see a shot of assistants
beginning to pull baek the eurt3in in ord er to expose Merriek's body.
But just as they pul! the eurtain haek , Lyneh cuts 180 negrees to a shot
looking at Merriek from bchind th.rough another eurtain. As a result,
we see Me rriek in a silhouette shot rather tha n in the direet shot tbat we
would ha ve had if Lyneh had kept the camera in fro m oCMcrrick. T he
assistants use pointers to refer to the diffe rent defo rmities on Me rriek 's
bod y wh ile Treves speaks about thcm, bllt even this is visible onl y in
silhouette. Finall y, wnen Treves concl udes his lecture::, Lynch returns ro
the frontal view of Merr iek just as the assistants c10se the curtai ns. The
dramatic cJiting in th is scene serves ro aecentuate the impossibility of
Merrick 's body, its inability to exist within th e fielJ of representation.
The Elephant Mall begins with a se ries of faiJures, but these failures
n:present the ve ry way in \>"hich desire itself sueceeds. The hrst half
hour of The Elephant Mcm rev eals , as Lacan says in Seminar XI, that
"what one looks at is what can not be seen."7 By denying the spectator
acccss to the im possible object, Lynch here makes clear w hat all his
films emphasize: the missing of [he object is at once the way in w h ieh
desire sustains itself. Wh en one retreats from the absence of the object
ane! fantasizes its presenc, one leaves the dom ain of desire. Neithe r
Treves, Merrick, nOf th e fi lm itself can rem ain wirbin rhe world of de
sire. Each follows a logi c ,hat Icnels inexor;dlly 1II ,1 1 . 111 1 "~II,. lI ic re~ol u
tion in wh ich the impossihlc objcct clI\l:rw .. .1' 1 11I .. ~~"II II 'Y
:'4 TH[ IM POSSI OI ( PAVIO I YI~I 11
The Troumotic Turn to Fontosy
After the first thirty minutc$ of Tlle ELephant Mall openl y hides Mer
rick's disfigured bocly from thc spectator's vision, the rest of the film
displ ays this body just as openl y. If the first pa rt of the film emph:lsizcs
Me rrick's status as the impossi ble objec t, the second part of the film
manages to disco\'er a wa y of accessing mis object. The turo from the
one to the othe r is the turo from a wo rl J of perpctu ally dissatisfied de
sire to a worlel of fa ntasma tic enjoymen t. By chronicling thi s turn into
a worl d of fanta sy, the film forees us to recognize the price that accom
panies fantasm atic fulfiUment.
Initially, the presence of the impossible object emerges as a Jistur
ban ce in the function ing of the world of nesire. Its presence has the sta
tus of a trauma beca use w hen one perceives it, one perceives something
at precisely rhe poi nt where one expeets to pe rceive nothing-a pres
'nce at the site w here one has hitherto exper ienced an absence. Whi le
vi ewing T/le Elepha11t Ma11, the spectator expe riences this mornent
along with a young nurse in th e hosp ital w ho is bringing food to Mer
rick. T he film stresses the na'lvet alle! fear of this woman as she ap
proaches Merrick 's room. Lynch s ho()t~ thi s ap proach w ith a high-angle
shot tha t m akcs her stature see m even smalle r than it actuall y is. As she
wa lks. we begin to hear a deep pul si ng sound tha t portends danger. We
see he r open lhe doo r to Merrick 's room, and th en me fi lm CULS to the
fi rst d ireel image ofMerr ick 's b()dy: he is sitting up on his bed w ithout
a shirt 011. The film quickl y Cllts back t a shot of the nurse, w ho scream s
as she drops the bow l of fooJ that she has been carrying. The camera
quickJ y lracks forw~lrd to a c1 ose-up of th e ho rrined look on her face.
The qu ick movem cn t of me camera registers the disturbance that the
appca rance o fMerric k has caused in th e fi eld of representation. At the
mome nt when Merrick 's body becomes a possible presence in the fi lm,
rhe field of represen tation undergoes a radical change. W e lea ve a world
of desire organi zed around the imposs ibi lity of d1e object-cause of de
5i re and en ter into a world of fantasy o rganized around accessing this
object.
Because Lynch establi shes Merrick's body as a fo rm o f [he objet petit
a uu ring the fir~t hal fh o ur (lf the fIlm , il s ;ppear:lnce w ithin the: fra m e
accom p lish(;~ t1w im poss iblc. The objet (J lnllioll~ IJn ly as an absence,
I11tlti \,, 'lItlg d " \\1111(;1," 1\ d;sire th r" ll~h iI ~ ill,ICll,sihi h IY. Onc ca nn nt
I I~ f l fr llANI MAN f . ',
ha ve a prcsent objet a, and yet this is what occurs whell Merrick's bocl)'
initially becomes visible. T he moment of seeing the objet a directly
would be akin to seeing on esel flooking; one would see hO\v one's own
desire distorts the visual ficld from within the clistorted perspective
(which is logically imposs ible). When Lynch reveals \\ le rrick's body, he
forces the specta tor tu becom e aware of he r/himself as looking and as
desiring. In our reaoion to this revelation, we ourselves become visible
as spectators: the disturbance that M e rrick's body causes for our look
renders that look-and the dcsire informing it-evident for the first
time. At this point, \Ve can no longer be! iev e tha t we are neutral observ
ers looking on a preexisting series of images; instead, we are desiring
subjects looking on a visual fie!d created specifically for our desire. 8
Merrick's body does not disturb the visual field beca use it is gro
tesque or horrifying. I t performs th is function insofar as Lynch places it
in the structural posi tion of the objet petit a through his construction of
the beginning of the fil m. The objet petit a 0 ,[ object-cause of desire has
the status that it has by virtue of the place that it occupi es rather than
any positive conten to Any ob}ect can pla y this role, especiall y in a film,
provided that eme cons tructs the fi lm around its constitutive absence.
Though the in itial appearan ce ofMerrick's body d isrupts the world
of des ire crea ted in the opening of T he E lephant Ma n, the fi lm su bse
quently integrates the presence of thi s di stur bil1g obj ect into ts ficl d of
representation. 9 In th e rest of the film, Me rrick ceases to be an absence
that haunts the frame ancl a ppea rs present wi th in the fr ame ke m e
other characters. In fact, Merr ick'~ bocly appears so fr eque ntJ y in the
film that it complctely loses its ability to distu rb the specta tor. W e do
not, contrary ro what sorne inte rprete rs of the film contend, ex pe rience
"the pleasure derivecl from seeing the pr ivate and forbidd en." ro T he
film shows how even a figure as d istur bing as the E le pha nt Man can be
smoothly integrated ioto sociery and into the fie!d of re presentation.
This capacity for in tegration testi fies to the power of fan tasy and the
role that it plays in the fu nc tioning of the social order.
The faotasy thar rhe fi lm plays out after M erri ck's body a ppears s
one of the complete in tegraton of lh e impossible object. 1t is as if our
bEnd spot as specta tOr s, the poin t from w hic h we :Jr(: lunk ing, could be
rendered visible <trld becom e pa n o[ th\.: li lll l\ nilrr.lliw :.t ru cn n e.
W ithin this fa ntasy, the ca me ra ln.::l ts Mn 1 1' k &1 " 1"11 11 1\ .'1 lpc:m lll ce,
as jusr a nother ch aracte r: he fl ls SC~lI lt1 t,\ I \ 1111" 11" \ l'U. tI 111'111. T his
S6 1Hf 'MP OS~ I\l1 1- DAV I'I l 1YII' 11
radical change in sta tus- from im p,lsciblc ob ject m at resi sts rep rese n
tation to objcct fuJl y re p resented- testi fies to me
po wer of fa ntasy to
access the inaccessible. Just as rhe fil m turns to fantasy for rhe spectator,
the terrain also shifts for the characrers wirhin the film.
Through the effons of Tre ves alJ d aclress M adge Ke ndal (A nne
Bancroft), Mcrrick bccomes nor onl y a pa rt ()[ Victorian society but a
highly regarded e!ement w,i thin trus sociery. He g aios th e accepta.nce by
soci.ety that he ne ver hacl any h ope of discove ring w hile he lahored in
the carnival sideshow. In this sense, the second part of the film provides
a fantas)' scenari o for Me rrick and fo r the spectator who witnesses his
ent rance into society. The film shows M crrick accomplishing rh e im
poss ible wirh the aid of Treves and Ke ndal.
After rescuing M erric k from Bytes a nd fin di ng him a room in the
hospital, Treves takes the adclitional step of having Merrick into his
home for tea. T h ere, Me rrick meets Anne (H annah G ordon), T rcves's
wi fe, who rreats Merrick like an honored guest in her hom e, even
th oug h rhe film makes clea r her dscomfort whc n she inirially sces Me r
rick. Annc's trearm ent of Merrick moves him to tea rs. As h e takes he r
hand , he begi ns to cry ane! says, 'Tm not used to beiog rr eareel so weU
by a beautiful woma n." Me rrick 's tea rs he re in di ca re the ex tent to which
he is living out a fa ntasy sce na rio. F rom the perspective in w hc h he 0
ists at the beginning of the film, utte rl y deg raded and deh um ani zed by
Bytes a nd the ca rniva l goe rs, rhi s scen c with Anne is completely U I1
imaginable, w hich is w hy it l11 0ves him to the extent rhar it does. Bur
[he fi lmic fa ntasy allows Merrick to accomplish the im possible, which
is wha t m akes this such a moving scene.
Though Treves begin s U1e integration of Me rrick into poEte society, it
is Ma dge Kendal who corn pletes the p rocess. After learning ofMerrick's
in telligence and h is acqua inra nce wi th culture, Treves publici zes Mer
rick's case an d atrracts the atten tion of K c nda l, a fam ous actress on the
L ond on stage. Ke ndal visits Nlerrick and reads a scene from Romeo and
Julret w ith him. Aft e rwa rds, sh e tells him, "Mr. Merrick, you're not an
el epha nt ma n at all-you're Romeo." Thi s kjnd of acceptaoce an d eveo
adoration allows Merrick ro h ave a rasre ofthe normall ife that he has de
sired bu t never bee n able ro a traio . 1r fa n tasmatically p rovides him with a
se nse uf the ul timate en joyme nr thar he associa tes w ith norm ality.
Though h e ncve r directIy st.1.les ir, Me rr ick 's J csrc fi)r n()r m ~di ty be
co m es ;l PIM!'l'n t in hi~ rcaction tu caeh nunn :l liz ing <.: Vi.: Ilt: he (' " inces
",r " t~IIJ\Nr MAN '"
g rea t joy w henevc r he expe riences the everyday ac tivi ties ofa normallife
(d rinking tea , reading, going ro the thea ter, ancl so on). But it is Merrick's
fin al act-lying clown to sleep lik e everyone clse, eve n thoug h he knows
it w ill kilI him- that fully reveals the ex tent of his d es ire for normality.
He wants it so much th at he is willing to die for it.
N ea r the end of the film , K end al in vites Merrick to be her guest at
the th eate r, and after th e performance, she appea rs o n the stage and
dedicates the performance to Me rrick. At tbis point, the entire audi
enee stanu s and applauds Merrick. This standing ovation at the theater
und erlines the acce ptance of Merrick and the h igh point of his fa ntasy
scenJrio. Even if Me rri ck is " realIy " living out this cvent in the film, he
expe rie nces it-and we as spectalO rs experience it-as a fanta sy simply
beca use it sol ves co mpletely the problem of desire with which the film
began . We experi ence the successful integration of the impossible ob
ject inlO ou r evcryd ay wo rld, and Merrick himself ex peri ences what
was for him the impossihle normallife. Mer rick 's ex istence now see ms
meaningful: he no longe r endures the senseless abjection of the ca roi
val; he has a purpose. But this pu rpose is w holly fantasmatic beca use it
invol ves m e attainm ent of th e impossibl e.
Obviously the turo to fa ntasy for the spectator and fo r characte rs
with in the fi lm is not the same . F ilms can deploy fa ntasies for the spec
talO r while depicting cha rac ters w ithin th eir social rea lity and can lea ve
spec tators desiring w ithout a fan tasm a tic escape w hile showi ng charac
ters ensconced in a fanta sy wo rld . But in Th e Elephant Man Lyn ch
aligns the spectator's expe rie nce w ith that of m e ch a racters: w hen we
tu ro fr om an expe ri ence of a wo rld of desire to a worIu of faotasy, Mer
rick and Treves do as wd!. This paralIel structure that Lynch often em
ploys has the effect of breaking cl own the opposition between what oc
curs in the act of sc reening the film and what occurs within the film
itself. T he spcctato r fincl s her/ h imself in precisely the sa m e position rel
ati ve to fantasy as the cha ra cters themselves.
Though The Elephant Man follows the logic of fantasy, it d oes not
break fro m the con ve ntiol1s of realism in the way that EraJerhead does.
It does not signal to us as spectators in a cl ear fas hion that we ha ve
moved on to the te rrain of fantasy. T his marks a furthe r re.fincm ent of
Lynch 's id ea of the role rhat fan tasy plays for tll(" slI h j,'\ 1. W itll Tht" Ele
phant MUfl, he begins lO sce how f~l!1tllsy i ~ "lit \i ll1l,ly .111 ,,raJll: fro m
e TI1 E I M ~ OSSl n l ~ DAV I O lVNCl1
m e soc ial real ity, an alternative l() our everyday drudge ry, but the sup
po rt of Our scnse of rcality. F an tasy becomes a mode of reaIity.
The Other Side of Fontosy
In one sense , The E/ephant Man is a ce lebration offa ntasy and wha t it is
ablc ro p ro vide. W he n Mcr rick cries after A nne Treves shows him
k ind ness, w hen Maclge Ke nda l compares Merrick to Romeo, and when
the theater audicn ce gives Me rrick a stan ding ovation, we as spectato rs
sha re in Me rrick's en jay ment. The fantasy sce na rio that informs these
m om ents produces an enj oymen t that srem s from accom plishing the
impossibl c. By in clud in g and emph asiz ing these mom ents, Lynch testi
fi es to the po we r of faotasy and to its ability lO del ive r enjoyment.
Rather than criticizing the tu ro to fanrasy as an escape from an unsatis
fying rea li ty, T he Elephant Man embraces fantasy as a way of structur
ing one's en joy men t.' ,
But lhe film uoes nor u neq u ivocall y celeb rate the turo ro fantasy.
Lynch d o("~ not simply shnw the fanta sy of Me rrick finding acceptance
in polite Victoria n society; he also shows the und erside of accc ptancc:
Merrick 's immersi()n in to tll e ugly und crsid e o f Victor ian society, rep
rese nted by the figure of me rtig h t po rte roNot on ly does Lynch se pa rate
the fi lm into distinct worlds o f desire ano famasy, but he also splits the
fantas m<ltic portion of me fi lm into a positive and a negativc fantasy.
During his daytirne experic nce at rhe hospital, everyone trea ts Me rri ck
with k i ndnes~ and wel com es h im as a no rm al, if nat p riv ilegcd, mem
be r of soc iety. But Me rr ick 's n igh ttime expe rience is al togcther diffe r
ent. The nig ht porter organ i ze~ a ser ies of visits to Merrick 's room in
wh ich membcr~ o fl ower-c1 ass Victorian society pa y for the privilege of
being ho rr ified by Me rrick '5 boU y. Hc re, the film makes clear that the
fanrasmatic integralion ofMe rrick into polite Victoria n society also has
a nighnnar ish und erside-the nightti me visits of drunken revelers th at
the n igh t po rter bri ngs to ogle anci to rme nt Me rrick. The uaytime ado
ration of Merrick and (he nigh ttime exploitation ofh im become visible
as th e two modes th ro ugh w h ich fan tasy work:; to integra te the impos
sible obj ect in to society.
When he inrroduces Madge KcnJaL Ly nc h illllst rares th e pa rallel
betwct: II !t1"! ;l nd rhe nigh r portc r, slI).',).'.nt ing l!t al t ach nf them fulfills
, 111' r I "tiMJI MAN '9
a similar role in the filmic fanta~y. Lynch shows Kendal in her dressing
room reading a letter about Ivlcrrick in the LOl1dol1 Times, and he cuts
directly from this scene to one of drunken rnelers in a bar listening to
the night poner reading the same letter. This ~triking juxtaposition
makes clear that despite the class differences between Kendal and the
night porter and despite their vastly different way~ oftrca ting Merrick,
both characters adopt a similar re!ation ro him. They both transform
Mcrrick into an object of curiosity that people are desperate to glimpsc.
The differencc is that Kendalleads high socicty to see ~1errick and that
the night poner leads the lower class. The visits ofKendal and her kind
produce the positivc mode of Merrick's fantasy experience, wh ile the
visits of the night porter and his e ntourage produce the ncga tive mode
of that cxperiencc.
By cinematically linking Kendal's treatment of Merrick with the
night porter's, Lynch indicts the spectator as well as Kendal. N o specta
tor watches The Flephant Man and identifies herlhi~ re! ationship to Mcr
rick with that ofthe night poner. Thc film allows us to identify with the
gentler position of figures like Ke ndal and T reves. That is, Lynch does
not trcat the spectator as one of the exp loiters of Merrick but as one of
those w ho succor him . Howcve r, beca use he hints at the speculative iden
tity ofKe ndal and the nigh l porter, Ly nch does not leave ti'; in thi s posi
tion. As we recognize Kendal's complicity in Merrick's exploitation, we
simultaneously must rccogni zc our own as spectators. O ur very decis ion
to go to a film li ke The Elephant Man , Llke the bare fact of Ke ndal's intc r
est in Me rrick, attests to our in ves tm ent in the idea of Merri ck as an odd
ity, even if all we fee! is compassion or frie ndship for him .
Not only does Lynch cinematically stress the paraLlcl betwee n Ken
dal and the night poner, he also shows us how rhe relationship with
Kendal and with fashionabLe society renders the nightly abuse more
horrific for 1\1errick. After Mc rrick reccives a dressin g case as a gift, we
see a crosscutting sequence that juxtaposes Merrick trying out his new
ite ms ane! the night poner preparing another group to visit him. Lynch
shows a close- up ofMe rri ck sampl ing cl ifferen t colognes foll owed by a
shot of the bar where the nig ht porter rounds up clients for his sadistic
tour. Lynch then cut.'; back to a long shot of Merrick brushi ng his hair
with his new hrush, after w hich he sho\Vs Lill ;\ ppro;ch ing g roup. We
return agai n to 1-.1crr ick , w ho now prel\ n, h 111 il d.t ll'<;~ Kl-!1cLaI, but
w hen he tUfIlS in thc I\lid ~ t or c!Oillg \11, 1'" Idlll ,~ \II S tri jI shut of the
(,O f H( I MP OSS I O\ ( OAVII) IYi'H fI
night porte r, now present in Mcr ri ck's room. The subsecuent scene in
volves the torture of Merrick: aman fo rce s a woma n to k,iss him in
front of the group, the crowd pours alcohol down his throat, the porter
forces him to look in the mirror, and after the to rture ends, Bytes, hid
den among the crowd, stea ls Me rrick away fr om the hospital.
This scene is perhaps the most trau matic in the film not just because it
depicts the abuse done to Merrick but beca use it links this abuse, through
crosscuttmg, to those who treat Merric k w ith kindness amI compassion.
The cut from Merrick preparing to address Kendal to the image of the
nigh t porter there m her stead revea ls the truth ofher position. H er com
passion-and ours as spectators-becornes visible as part ofthe mistrea t
ment ofMerrick, not an altcrnative to it. Lynch's crosscutng es tablishes
the speculative identity of compassion and cru el ry. Watching the film,
we are constantly reminded of our link to this negative side offantasy. 12
Both compassion and crue! ry treat the objec t of their concero with
condescension . T hese attitudes allow the subject to ensure its own ele
vated sta tus as the one g iving com passion or administering cruelty.
F urthcrm ore, compassion recu ires a certain amount of cruel ry in o rder
to existo W ithout the cruel ty comm itted by other~ there woul d be no
need for my compassion . Even Merrick's disfigurem ent would req ui re
no compass ion if \Ve did not I ve in a cruel world that brutalizes those
w ho ha ve a distorted appea rance. rn arder to sustain oneself as compas
siona te, one must not act to change the cruel world th at crea tes oppor
tunities where one can display compassion. '3 Wh ich is not to 5ay that
co mpassion an d cruelr)' a re equivalent, that there is no difference be
tween Kendal and the nig h t porter, but simp ly ro ins ist on the inextri
cable link, the speculati ve iden tity, between them.
Li ke Merrick 's fantasmatic integration into society, every fantasy
scenario has both l pos itive and negati ve mode. In The Elephant Man
more than in any or Lynch's oth er films, the link between the positive
and tbe negative fantasy is appa ren t. Merrick's acceptance into polite
Victorian society is de penden t on the nighttime visits of the nigbt por
ter and his entourage. As the film suggests, one cannot simpl y o pt for a
positive fantasy and avoid its dark unde rside . W ith out its underside,
the pos itive fantasy woulJ cease to prov iJe rhe eoj oyment that it pro
vid es because it would no longer pro vidt an y indicat on of the trau
matic natu re of the im possiblc ohjccr. Hflt h Merrick ane! lh e spectato r
mll~l l;:n dllr l' 111 (' nq~arivc fantas y in I1rdn 111 ~1 "I; il1 Ihl; PIJSi li\ e olle.
ill l , 1t(, PliONT MAN '01
 Fantsy afIers the subject cn joyment tb roug h a n a rra ti vc sccna rio
that accesses that impossible obj ect. H oweve r, in addition to access ing
this object, fantas y must sus tai n the idea of this obj ect as threatened in
order to sus tain its desirability. This is w he re the n egativ e moJ e oCtn
tasy comes into play. Whereas the positi ve moJ e of fan tasy allows the
subject ro access the impossible object, the nega tive mod e of fa ntasy
threatens that access an d works to convince the subj ect th at its rd a rio n
ship to the object rem ains in peril. In this way, lhe obj ect manages to
hold onto its des irability e ven when it becomes acc essibl e for th e sub ject
in the fantasy. The negative m ode of fa n ta sy-the horri fi c visits of the
night porter and his customers- allows the positi ve mod e offan tasy to
continue to provide the su bject wi th enjoy ment.
This allows us to answer the fundamental question raised by the
night porter's visits to Me rrick's room. Ra ther th a n protest, Me rrick
endures these visits as if they we re the price that he m ust pay for th e
kindness he receives during the daytime. Gi ve n hi s det: p fri en dsh ip and
the trust that exists between them , vvhy d oesn 't he protest to Treves?
Merrick accepts this trea tm em unq uesti oningly not bec.lUse he is a
masochist or suffers from sorne k ind of fa lse consci ous ness but beca use
di
he understa nds um:ol1Sci,ousl y that the ell joymen t of his d ay time accep
~ tance depends on this nighttime exploit:ltion. The exploitation se rves as
a const:mt reminder to M errick oC the threa t to his enj oyment. A t the
same tim e that this dueat impe rils Merrick 's enjoymen t, it ~usta iJlS hi s
ability to en joyo F an tasy can a llow Me rrick ro cn joy the impssible ob
ject, but it mu st p reserve the ob ject as e ndangered if ir is ro remalo e.n
joyable. If the [h reat to me objecr disa ppeared en tirely, it wou ld lose its
abili ty te prov ide enjoym enr. T h is is the role thar rhe night porte r's vis
its pla y in Merrick's fant asy ti fe and in me fiLn , ami thi s is w hy these
visits are just as crucia l for Me rri ck as the day tim e vi sits of Madge Ke n
dal and the other respected mem bers of soci ety.
The negat ivc sid e of fant asy is necessa ry for us as spectato rs as weU.
The threat that the nigh t porter represents constantl y remincls us of rhe
tenuousness oHvIerriek 's en tra nee into no rmal society. The n ightly re
turn to the experience of the carni val that the n ig ht porte r imposes on
Mcrrick indicates the possi bility of an actual retu rn to th at ho rrifie ex is
tence. This threa t sLls t:lins :1Do rmal life tr Mnri,-k .l ":1 privi k gt.:d object
of desire rathe r th an a\lnwing l10rm al ity It) ,CC! 11111 11l1l l HJanc and ord i
nm y. On its OWI1, thereis nrlt hing inhcrl' (11 1) .\. :-." Ihl,I"lIl1 IIl1rmaliry,
/, 7 TH [ IMI'OSS I UI " DAV I O ,n"
but as an imperiled object, which it is fo r Me rrick , the status of normality
ehanges dramatieally. And in fa ct. the nigbt porter's visits do eventually
k ad to Merrick's retUril to th e carnjval. The inclusion of Bytcs's capture
of Merrick <.md Merriek's mel odIama tie return to Treves-he escapes
from Bytes through the aid of om e r si deshow performers who take pity
on him-highlights even m o re the difficulty, ami henee the desirability,
(lf normality for Merrick.
T he depicti on of the t\Vo sides of fantasy in The Elephant Man does
not transform the film into a cond emnation of fantasy. Inste:ld, this du
ality mirrors the di videcl atti tud e that the film takes toward fant:lsy, On
th e one hand, Ltntasy p ro vides a n enjoyment that the subject otherwise
lacks, but on the other hand, it does so onl)' by adding to the trauma
that the subject has faced. As a result, one can render no eJsy verdict on
the role that fantasy pbys for society ami for the subjeet. T/e Elep/ant
M an seems to suggcst that fantasy is \Vorth the cost. But what the film
absolu tel y insists on is mat when we opt fo r fa n tasy \Ve mu st pay this
cost for the enj oym ent rh at it provides uS.
The Norma l and the Abnormal
L ynch shows the spectato r th e cost th at accom panics fantasy: fa ntasy
prov ides us w ith me
obj ecr, but it d oes so by stripping the obj ect of the
very impossibili ry that mak es ir an ob ject-cause d esire in th e first place,
L ike Eraserhead , The Elephant Man sho'vvs liS w hat results when one
fully real izes one's fantasy. T he film realize.s a fa ntasy in three different
ways: for the spectator, fo r T reves, and for Me rrick himself. The film
g ives us preci sely what we desire as specta to rs, but it d oes so in order to
show that we don 'l really desi re our desire. That is to sa y, the appear
ance of tb e im possible obj ect w ithin the second part of the film cannot
but d isappoint the spectator w ho eagerly longed for its presenee while
wa tehing [h e first part. After Merrick's body beeomes plainly visible
w ithin the film's mise-en-sce ne, ir loses all th e potential for enjoyment
that it form e rly embodied , O ne watches Merrick in the second part of
the film wi rhout :l ny se nse that o ne is expe riencing a moment that tran
seends the timits of the orde r of tbe pssible.
By re.1lizing our d esire ro see M crick's bocl y. Lynch forces LIS to con
fro nr rhe 11: 111.11 il y (I r Ihe object, ro recogn i7.t rila r il is not the obj ect itself
rh:lt prr ,d u\ 1' .. .] t,ire lalt nur clcsirc th:1I C k- v ; lI l'~ :U l o nJ ina ry ob ject in to
r'/1 II l pI ,,.,,,,r MAN 6J
 an impossible one. As we watch the second part of the film, \Ve see lhe
strangeness o f Me rrick's bod y beco me ordinary. This is what separa tes
The Elephant Man (and Ly nch 's films in gen e ral) from the rest of Hol
ly wood. An ordin a ry H ollywood fi lm wo uld a ttempt to preser ve Mer
rick as an objet pctlt a e\ en as it allowed liS a qui ck fa ntasmatic glimpse
of th is object. It would, in short, blend togeth er the expe rience of desire
and fantasy in o nl e r to sustain the power of fa masy ove r us as subjeots.
The typical Hollywood film is fan tasmati c to the extent that it holds
back from a full imm e rsion in fantasy and thus p rese r ves the fantJ. sy's
fundamenta l illusio n-that it can really provide access to the impossi
ble object without destroying the object's impossible status. By refusing
to turn wholl y into the real m of fantas y, film sustain s oUr belief that the
ultimate enjoyme nt is possible. This is precisel y w ha t The Elephant Ma n
rejects.
Just as the film fo rces the spectator to realize he rfhis desire and face
the cost of this rea li zati on, it does the same for bo th Treves and Merr ick
within the film . Trevcs begins the film ck siring to m a ke a name for
rumself as a doc to r by di sco ve ring M er ri ck a nd presenting his case to
t he medical world . N o t onl y does Treves rea li ze this d esire, but he also
!ij succeeds in introd ucing Merrick into el ite Victo ri a n society. He he
:~
comes a famou s doctor a t the same tim e m a t he rescues Me rrick fr om
the depredatio ns of Byres ano changes Me rri ck's life u n imaginably.
Treves reali zes h is desire by playing o ut the perfect fantasy scen ario.
But this sce na rio d oes Do t p rovid e T reves w ith the sati sfactioD lil ar he
expects. It leaves him ucspo ndent heca use ir expo ses an aspect of his
character that could remain hidden as lo ng as he w as onl y an ambitious
you ng doctor and not the discove rer of the Elep ha nt M a n. H e becolO es
aware that ambitio n a nd the desire for renow n, not the dri ve for sci en
tific knowledge, was the m otiva ting force behind hi s acrions.
As the tra jec to ry ofTreves sh ows, fantasy lays ba re the hidd en k ernel
of the desiring subj ect to the subj ect itsel f, and thi s is o ne rea son wh y we
resist fully imm e rsin g ou rsel vcs in fantasy (in the wa y th ar Thc Elephant
Man demands tha t we d o). A fter Mad ge K end al visits Merrick in the
hospital and hig h society beg ins to foll ow he r lead , T reves has a moment
of self-recognitio n. H e says ro Aune, h is wife , "l'rn beg in ning to beli eve
t hat Mr. Bytes a nd 1are ve ry m uc h alik e . . . _W h:11 was il . dll ; , r ~ Why d id
Ido it ? A m 1 a good m an , o r a m 1 a had lil a n ~ . ,\ lit I 1"1\.\1;\ u tl l: r:. I h is fi
n alline, the scene end s w ith;: fade lo hla l k ..II I1 I " l. d,'! 1111,111. " A ll ne re
/' 4 T H~ I MPOSS I BlE D A V I D LYNC tl
spond . Lynch uses the facle-out a nd the a bsence of a respo nse ro punctu
ate the ques tio ns a nd m a ke c1 ea r rha t Treves has g rasped so m ething
essential abo ut hi s own d esire. He couldn 't ha ve se ripted m e narrativ e
any better: he gai ns noto ri ely for d iscovcring Mer rick , d octors th rough
out Englanu now kn ow ofhim, a no M e rri ck fecl s in de htcd to Treves fo r
savin g h is life a nd giving him a no rma l ex istence. Bu t preciscl y becau se
of the degree of success he cnjoys, Trev es bcgill S to suffer. The fantas
matic rea li za ti on of hi s uesire m ak es evident the simila rit y hetwee n
Bytes and hi m sel f. Ra ther tha n acting for the goo d of M e rrick or for the
good of sc ie nce itself, Treves has acted as he has in ord er ro become a
noted scientist, to increase his cultural capi ta l, just as Bytes has actee! in
order to enrich him self ma teri a Uy.
The compl ete success of Treves's fa ntasy lca ves him, as ir lea ves th e
spectator, with no alternative bu t to confron t his own desire. The seem
ing purity ofTrev es's d esire initiall y all ows us to experie nce ourselves as
pure specta to rs. But T reves's recog nitio n abo ut his own desire indicts u s
as well: we recogn ize th a t there is no p ure vicw ing position fro m whi ch
to wa tc h Thc E lephanr Man. W ha teve r is the dr iving fo rce bc hind O UT
decisio n to see the film , it is no t just a sim ple desi re to see. T he d es ire to
see, Ly nch suggests, is co nnected to an unconscio us desi re that we do
not avow. O ne is not simply curi o us to see Merrick 's story; o ne wants ro
see his Ji sfi g ureme nt. The E lephant Man fo rces th is latte r aspect of d e
sire to becom e visible. Th is is w hat sepa ra tes the film s of DllV id Lyn ch
from oth e r fi lms. By d ivid ing meexperience of d esire and fa ntasy,
Ly nch 's fi lms show w ha t results whcn we im rne rse o ursc\ves completely
in fan tasy. T hi s irnme rsioD reveals tbe rea l of Our d es ire, and such a
revela tio n is necessari ly traumatic. Th e successful fantas y [ea ves us no
possibiliry fo r cl a im ing that this is no t w ha t we wa nt.
In additi oD to reve,11ing the h idd en k ernel of o ur desire, the full im
m ersion into fantasy also demon stra tes th e cost tha t our fanta sies exact
from usoT hroug h the final gcsture of Merrick himself, we see Me rrick
sacrifice hi s life in o rd er ro complete hi s fam as)'. Throughout the film,
Merrick h as sustained th e fant asy of becom ing a normal subj ect, and
w hen the film en d s, he ach ieves mis fan tasy as he fi nally lies down to
sleep in the way th at eve ryo ne else Joes. Ea rli e r in th e film, Me rrick
tells T re ves, " Tw ish ( could slec p li kc no rmal pco ple." By Iying d o,vn to
sleep, howcvc.: r, Mer rick k nowingly cul s off' hi s ;Ihili ty to breaw e a nd
suffoca lc ', llill1w lf.
" " t L1 ' I/ ANT MAN
 Lynch shoots this final seyuence of the film in a way that emphasizes
its fantasmatic y uali ty. W e see Merrick sign m e m odel cburch thar he
has complcrcd building, and then we see a long shot of Merrick remo v
ing the pillows from hi s bed. L ynch l110ves the cam era slow ly towa rd
Merrick as he begins to lie down. F inally, Merrick closes his eyes and
lies Rat. The camera pans from Merrick's fae c ro the pic tures on his
des k and to his moJel church . As the camera moves up th rough and
into a brilliant starry sky, an imagc of Merrick's mother appea rs an d
then faJes to whi tc as the film ends. In this scen e, Me rrick achieves the
perfect fantasmatic bliss: he becomes a normal subject, and he recon
ciles w ith an image of his beloved mother.
But this success also dcstroys him. In a scenario in w h ich the subject
can achieve the im possible-Merrick can become norm al- the subject
must disappear. As Lacan insists, "the 1 as such is precisel y exclud ed in
the fantas y." '41t is rhe position ofrhe subjeet that rend ers the object im
possible, and th us fantasy im;lgines the object without the presence of
the subject. The subject's very jC1cntity is tied ro its status as lacking; if
one eliminatcs this Iack, one simultaneousl y elimina tes (he subject. This
is w hy every fantasy, not just that of John Merrick, is a fantasy of the
subj ect's disappearance. Most of the tim e, however, we indulge in fan
tasy w ithout recognizing w hat it entails. The R/ephant Man dema nd s
thar we becorne cogni zant of the ramificati ons of fa ntasy as ir condudes
with the fantasy-d riven death of Mcrri ck. h asks us ro see famasy fo r
what it is and ro opt for it, if we d o, wh ile embracing m e sacr ifice that
it d emands.' )
The conclusion ofthe film complets a radical reve rsa l for m e spec
tator. T he fi nal image of Merric k sleeping on his back forces the specta
tor to experi cnce the speculati ve iden ti lYof norm ali ty and abno rm ality,
of w hat is normal and what is most opposed to the no rmal. Despite h is
position as an extreme outsider, Me rrick vvants nothing other tha n to
exist as the norm al subject does. According ro the logi c that the fi lm de
velops, the normal subject is the Elephant Man . W e don't just observe,
as Jam es Keller contends, that "the misshapen indi vidual is show n ro
be ... fully human ." d, l ns tead , Merrick's alienation and abj ection h ig h
ligh t that of the norm al su bjcct.
ur very abili ty ro in Vest oursc! ves in hi~ 1: 1111 a ,y (,r 11 t H m:d 11 y nnd lo
find his fin al gestu re 3 C()1ll pell i ng aet test ji It ~ 1' 1 " ' 11 t ' \~' II HI j l~ II ;1led rda
tion ro nor m al ity. If we sim r ly in ha'il t'd 1I1~ItI I " dil ,\ . tl 1II111 11 :tllly pr..
66 THr IM POSS' O L ~ O"Y IO LVN ( 11
vid ee! a seamless identity for us, we wo uld nOl have the psychic spaee to
take an interest in Lynch's presentation of Merrick's story. Ly n ch con
cl udes the film as he does in ord er to force the spectator into a position
o[ speculative identity with Merrick. Recogn ition of thi s speculative
identity de prives the spectator of any sense of distance from him and
his abnormality. One can no longer view h im compassionately beca use
compassion always implies the idea of safe distance from the object.
O ne feels compassion for Merrick or for starvin g children on the other
side ofthe world only as long as they don't come too close. L yn ch 's film
has the virtue of bringing Merrick too close and clem anding that w e see
ourselves in what first appears as his im possible difference. In so doing,
we accomplish the imposs iblc ourselves.'7
If one watches The Elephant Man and experiences one's speculativc
identity with Me rrick, one accomplishes an eth ical act. It see ms silly, of
eourse, to talk abo ur tbe bare act of watching a film as an ethical act,
si nce watching a film inv ol ves disco nnecting from m e omer and expe
riencing a prvate in te raction witb the screen. Su t \vatch ing Lynch's
film in the way that it dern ands to be see n has [he effcct of fac ilitating
the transformat on of one's mode of relating to the othe r. T he film en
cou rages us to see sa mcness o r identity beneath the other's di ffe rence. ,8
S u t what the film p rofre rs is not a uni ve rsa l humanism in which al!
subj ects share an essentiall y hum an core that th ey never lose and on the
basis of w hi ch they can idcn tiEy with each oth er. Th is is w hat occurs in
m ost monster movies, which ai m ro affirm the com m on hu manity h id
den bencath me monstrosity. Acco rding to the logic of T he Elephant
Man , w hat we have in common is our monstrosi l)', a kernel of desire
m at p revents LIS fr om eve r adopti ng a positiol1 of neu trali ty and from
ever being simpl y human . Mc rrick's bod y is the ob jective correlative of
our m onstrosi ty, and insofar as we see o ursel ves in its deformity, we be
come the erhical subjects that the film asks li S to become.
r!l r ti t "'I AN r MAN 6'

THREE Dune and the Pa th to Sal vation
A Hollywood Narrative
After the succt:ss ofThe Elephant Man(1 98o), Lynch had nu m e rous op
porrunitics to ad va nce his status as an up-an d -com ing director in Hol
lywood, including an offc r from George L ucas to direct the third in
stallment of the Sta/' Wars trilog y. Believ ing m at thi s fi lm would aJl ow
him little creative freedom , Lynch opted inste~J d fo r anoth cr scien ce fic
tio n project, this one o ffered by prod uce r D ino de Laurentiis. T h is
project wa s based on th e novel D une by F rank H crhcrt, a nd it pro \ iJ ed
Lynch a budget of $42 mi ll ion, m e largcst budget for a ny fil m up to th a t
time (and more money-not ad justed fo r in Aatin- than Lync b ob
tained for a n y subsequen t film) . Because o f the ppul~l r i ty of He rbe rt 's
novel (and its seq ucls), a buil t-in a udience existed fOI" the fi lm. W ith the
success of Star vVa/'s and th e return of the Star Trek franchi se in the carly
1980s, an appetite fo r science fiction w as p resent ;:J. S we/ l. Lyn ch even
signed on not just for Dune (1984) bu t also for [Wo sequels. Despite
these positive signs, the film became Lynch 's greatest fai lme, making
back just $15 million at the domestic box ofnce and bom bi ng a mong
critics ancl am o ng m ost Lynch fans. I
Dune is not only the m ost llni vt:r~; lI y J, '\ d"" !t( rl, lvid I~y , , :h'l> I1L111$
but also rhe on e most assoc i:llcd \Vil h I\'I'". d I I,I1h \VI JI" I lillll/1J : Jking.
6a
This beco mcs the standard wa y o f excusing its f,Jilure. W hen he makcs
D une, according to th e standard n a rrative of Lynch 's ca reer, Hollywood
swallows Lynch, and the result is a H olly wood failllre and not an au
thcntic Lynch film. When Erica Sheen, who laments that "a lmost noth
ing of intcrest has becn w rincn about it," attempts to fill in this lacuna,
she does so with an essay that stresses, in contrast to the other essays
collecteJ in The Cinema of David Lynch, th e economic ba ckground of
thefilm rather than the filmic text itself.2 Sbcen's essay focuses on "the
production histo ry (lf Dune as a paradigm ofLynch 's often difficult and
always critical relations with the film industry."3 For Sheen, the ve ry
structure of the film is the site o f a power struggle between the type of
film that H ollywood at the time d e mands and the innovation charac
teri stic of Lynch 's style of fil rn making. Lynch him sel f takcs every op
portllnity to support this vcrsion of the film's co nstruction. He daims
that, in Dunc, "f n ever carried anything far enough for it to really be my
own. "4 Despi te th is conte ntion and despite irs narrative dissimilarity
w ith Lynch's other films , Dune rt: mains a Lynch film. f t is not just that
Lync h place s his styJjstic o r fo rm al stamp o n the film (though he does)
but that the film echoes the fundam en tal thematic preoccu pation of
ynch's o ther fil ms. L ike bo th Eraserhead ([977) and The Elepham Man
bcfo re it, DUlle explores w har occur" w hen we full y im m erse ourselves
in the w orld o f f;m ta sy.
Thoug h a c1ear lin k exists berw een Dune and Lynch's other films, it
is nonetheless rme thar DulU' deviates less from d assical H ollywood
na rrati ve structure tha n th e othc r fiLms . Ir this is the remIl of the ex i
genci cs of a m a jor studio prod uction, rhese ex igenc ies he/p to create one
ofLync h's m ost theoreticall y co rn plex films . In o rder to de/ve fully into
th e wo rld of fa ntasy and ro reveal fantasy's cost, L ynch constructs a film
with a narratve trajectory that seem s com pletel y in keeping with D a
vid Bord well's descriptio n of the dassi cal Hollywood plot or syuzhet.
Bordwell notes, "Usuall y the elassical syuzhet prese nts a douhle causal
strueture: Qne involving hete rosexual romance (boy/girl, husband/ wife),
the other line in volving ano th er sphere-work, wa r, a mission or a
q ues t, other pe rso nal rel ationships. E ach lin e will possess a goal, obsta
eles, and a elim a x."5 Dune, likew ise, brings together these two causal
struc tures--rom a nce and adventun:- a nd both conduJ e in a d enoue
rn en l th al I idil y Wr:lpS u p the loose ends in c:J('h . T h u5. d es pi te lhc co m
p!<linls II O IJI ''' IIH '1t \:l rtl:rs ahour Ihe ( tlJllu \ illg 1l:11 ll r c; (J I' rlw pl ot in
UN! 69
 Lynch's versi on of DUlle , it is actually more indebted to the classical
Hollywood structure than the plots of any of Lynch's other films. But
Dune does not simply fall quietly into Hollywood's conventions. Rather,
it imme rses itself in the classical H ollywood structure to such an exten t
that it pushes this structure to a breaking point and exposes, as few
films do, the radical possibilities implicit in the fantasma tic resolution
that classical Hollywood structure promises.
In spite of their reliance on the enjoyment that derives from fantasy,
most classical Hollywood narratives provide only the hint of a fa ntas
matic resolution without fully investing themselves in the logic of fan
tasy. They employ fantJsy, and yet at the same time keep fantasy at
arm's length, allowing the spectator to remain at a safe distance. The
logic of fantasy is one that accom plishes the impossible: it overcomes or
at least finds a way around the antagonisms-e~pecially the sexual
antagonism-that haunt every social order. 6 The social order as such
continues to exist through antagonism: its fa ilure ro constitute itsclf
fully is at once what enables it ro endure. Irs existence depends on its
ahil ity to produce desiring subjects becau se only clesiring subjects
~
lacking subjects- act as prod ucti ve citi ze ns. A fi lm thJ t fu ll y io vests it
self in the logic of fantas y would necessari ly depict a radical trao sfor
mati on of the soci al ord e r itsel f, since th e soci al order is construc ted
around the impossibility of what tanta sy envisions. But this is not w hat
cl assical H lly "vood narrati ve does. [nstead, the narrativ e offers J pa r
ti al fantasmatic resolution wh ile embedd in g that resolution w ithin the
continuecl existence of a world of desire ancl antagonismo
At the eno ofJohn Ford's Stagecoach (1 939), fo r im tan ce, \-ve see [b e
Ringo K.id (John Wayrre) successfull y defend a trou bled stagecoach
from Apach e attacks anu w in the affections (lf the rescued prostitu te
D alias (Claire Trevor}- precisely the "double causal structure" that
Bordwell identifies and th at Lyn ch employs in Dunc. This conclusion
heals both the sexual and social antagonism s and thereby promises an
existence free from antagon ism-or at lea st an existence in w hi ch we
can imagine oursclv es fre e from antagonismo The film suggests that a
compl ete healing is possibl e, that the threats to soc ial stability are em
pirical rather than on tologica\.7
Stagccoach deceiv es us concerning w ha t 1hl' Ril1)!" K it! lI1 ust undergo
to Jccom p lish this im possihle heal ing. I k o, lllI ply ,d"!, I ' , ti\, pnsition uf
the hero in order to savc thc pco pk 0 0 d lt ;,I.ll!.' :fll ,lil ,111 ,1 ckfcat the
70 lH ~ , M'OSS l n Lt I'JA V I f) I. YNCI I
Apaches. His underlying id enti ry aoo that oCsuciety itsclf remain con
stant. Thc fantasma tic resolu tion req uires no radical transformation
or radical destruction. Ir is in this sense that class ical Hollywood narra
tive uses fantasy ro accomm Qdate the spectaror ro exi stin g social relations.
These narratives impl y tha t we can attaia a Fan tasmatic en joyment while
remaining with ,in th e security of the current social oroer. We el n achieve
the impossiblc \vitbou[ disruptin g the world that cannot accommodate
such an act.
Dune enacts t he same healing of antago nism that play s itself out in
Stagccoach anu num erous oth er classical Holl ywood films. But it does
not go about it in th e sam e way. If Stagecoach and the classical H olly
wood narrative reduce an ontological antagonism ro a merely empirical
one, DUll' ele vates an empirical antagoni sm to the status ofan ontologi
cal one and heals it noneth eless. T hat is ro sayo P Jul \.treides (Kylc
MacLachlan) is not simply a hero w ho overcom es an oppressive adver
sary and ge ts the wom a n; in ord er to save the F rem en and have Ch ani
(Sean Young) as his lov er, he becomes the Kw isa tz Hade rach, \-vhat an
other cha racter in the fi lm cal}; ''[he uni ve rse's super-being."8 H e is able
t en d opp ression as such , hea l th e sex ual anmgonism , and even m irac
ulousl y defy the laws oCnature. At the end of Dune, Lynch depicts Pa ul
as a subject who has ove rcome the p roblem of subjcctivity i tsel f.
T houg h Dune em pl oys classical HoLl ywood n:nr31ive structure,
w hat st;: nd s ou t abou t Lynch 's fi lm is its refusa! to perrnit the spectator
an y es cape from its full im pli ca ti orrs. Fan tasy prom ises the sub ject th e
ul tim ate enj oyrnent, w hich Dune d epicts, bue by showing thi s impos
sible act, the film exposes the traumati c natu re of the ultimate enjoy
ment. It is en joymeDt com pletel y opposed to pleasure: achi ev ing it
sh atters tbe stabili ty and securit y chat consti tu tes our eve ryday life. In
fantasy, one enjoys beyond the signifier and the o rder of meaning,
which is why ful ly accessing this erlj oyment forces one to recogni ze its
iden tity w ith the ultimate ho rro r. Usually, our h3lf-hearted ap proach ro
fantasy obscures this identity, and we can find a certain pleasure in fan
tasy by indulging in it bu t not taki ng it ser iously. D unc places us all the
way into fan msy's logic and dem ands th at we suffer the enjoyment it
produces just as Pa ul does.
Total immersio n in fantasy all ows (he fi lm to wnrk ou t fantas,y's po
litical conseq ue nces. W hat Dwc a dd~ l o I-y ll eh\ ;xplor<1 tion of me
logic nI Cllll . I'V in Tlw E lephant A1uI1 IS 11m '!l(" ' dll ((ell s . T he pla yi ng
/'"11 1 1I
out ofthe perfect fa ntasy scenario not only transfrm s me subject (Paul)
but a lso leads ro a pol tical uphea vt! , which ccurs because famasy n
herently undermines all external positions of a uthority in orde r ro ac
cess the impossiblc object.
The revolutionary denouement in D une follows from the com pletely
fant;lsmatic naturc ()fthe film's narrati ,'e structure. The trajectory tha t
Paul follow s in the film is the perfcet fan t as)' sccnario: it fits into a n O ed i
pal flarrative structure without requirng P a ul to be rcsponsible for the
death of his fath er or requiring him to marry his moth er. That is, the
narra tive allows Paul to have the triumphs m a t Oedipu s d oes without
sharing the latter's guilt . Like O edipus, Paul becomes th e libcrator of a
subjccted peoplc with his mother at his side, and a fte r this liberati on he
avcnges the death ofh is famer. By becoming the liberator ofthe F re men,
he assumcs the d estin)" that his father has predictcd for him. Though,
unl ike Oedi pus, Paul d oe s not pla y any part in the de lth of his faLh er, this
d eath is nonetheless necessary for his ascension as th e sa vior of Arrak is .
I t thrusts P a ul anu his m other into the society of the Freme n, who a!en
Paul to his des tiny. In the process of assull1i ng his des Lin y, he finds a
spouse among lh e subj ec ted people, and the romance and ad venture
plots un ire in the manner of m e c1assical Hollyw ood narra tive.
In te rm s of this n a rrati vc structu re, Dune is too m uch o f a cl:J ssica l
H oll ywood fi lm, foll o wing the model too perfectly a nd the reby ex pos
ing the hidd en radical ity of the m odel itsdf. This is wh at accounts for
much of the nega tive critica l reacti cm to it. In the aet of gi ving us w hat
we wan r as specta to rs, Ly nch gi ves liS too much, for cing us to see the
consequenees of nu r fantasy, to sce w har hap pens w hen we WQ uld es
cape the constrain ts of antagonism o Lync h's film fo rces us ro co nfro nt
the fantasy w ithout the distance tb at this type of fi lm making ryp ically
offe rs.
No Sofe Place to Desire
N ot only cl oes D utle represcnt a break fro l11 Eraserhead a ncl Elcphant
Man through its narrati ve :;tructure, hut il also depa rts from Lynch 's
earlier wo rk through the w ay that it deploys desin.: ;l nd hll t . l ~y. In bOlh
Eraserhcad ami E lephat21 Man , rhere are two dl \' 111< I wc "leI, -<I1U: char
acter izecl by ahsencc and dissa ti~ fJctOIl (.1 \\'c,rliI 1-" ", . 11 1) al1d the
other cha rac terizcd by Ilcig htUlt:J Pl c-"""'-'':.lllId 'lIhl\'lrll~ lll (:1 wo rl J of
7' TrI! IM" O~r. l n l ( O AV II~ LYN Ctl
fantasy). As w e have seen, Ly nch cmphasizes the di vision through
changes in mise-e n-sd:ne, cditing, camera m ovem ent, and sound . The
distinction in Dune is not so exrre m e, in d ica ring the increased power
and extent of the fantas y in DUlIe. Ly nch establishes tbe two worlds of
dcsire and fantasy as actual different worlds-the planets of Caladan
and Arrakis, respectively. A rrakis is th e center of th e fantas)' amI the
site of the ultimate cnjoyment, but th e film shows m is c njoyment pro
liferating elsewhc re. Only C a ladan, the home planet of che Atrcides
farn il y, offe rs a degree of res pite.
Both r.h e inte riors and exte rio rs on Caladan look diffe rent than the
other sets in Dune. 0 0 e very other plane t, we see extremes in dcor,
costume, character, and atmospher e. Bu l C al ada n seems lik e a normal
planet where people act li ke we expect them to act. There a re no char
acters here like the diseased Baron Ha rk o nnen (Kenneth McM illan)
flying arou nd the room or the com pletely blue-eyed Frernen clressed in
suits that recuperate a l! their bodily w aste, nor are there creatures like
the malformed G uild na vigators or the worms of A rrakis _ T he mise
en-sccne reveais Caladan as a sta ble place that is la rgel y bereft of oven
fa ntasma tic in tr u sions.
L ynch establ ishes Ca ladan as a wo rl d of des ire pri m a ril y th ro ugh
the place it occupies in the nar rative. Ir mark s the starting point of
Pau l's quest. E very scene 00 Ca lad an conveys an attituele of expecration
for the future and helps to generate a d esire in the specta tor to see it. We
see Paul t raining w il.h the mentors that his father, D u ke Le to A ueides
(J rge n P rochnow), has assigned to a id in his development. He spars in
a kni fe figh t w ith G umey Halleck (Patrick Stewar t)i he de monstrates a
new wcapon (the weirding modu le) that wi l! help in the upcoming
war; and he submits tO a test of pain th reshold given by the Bene G esse
rit Reve rend Mother Ga ius Helen Mohiam (Sian P hillips). E ach sccne
is important not in itself but for w hat it suggests abou r w here the film
is headed.
The depiction of Paul's nighttime confcre nce with his father punc
tuates the attitude of the film's C aladan sequence. As Paul and Leto
look OUt ove r the beautiful sea with wa vcs cr,lshing into rocks creating
a mist around them, Le to defe ncls bi s d ecision to !cave fo r A rrakis, a
desert planet w he fe it never rai ns. Ly nch shoots the scene in a w ay that
e mphasi z~" P.lIJI \ (uturc. In d osc-up. Lt, to s ay~ , "Wirhout change,
sOl11el hll\f~ ~Ic ( p ~ Imlcle liS a nd scl dolll :Iw:lkl'm." Ly ll ch Cln s to a cl ose-
DIINf 1:'
 up o f Paul li ste ning ;.md back to Leto finishing his statcmcnt: "The
sleeper m us t awaken. " The cut to Paul just after L eto says rhe wo rd
"awa ken" and t,he final command to a\-vaken implicitly directed towa rd
Paul indi cate the prospec t ofhi m awa kening iota a new wo rld , a w o rlJ
in which hi s fantasies becom e rcali zcd.
Before leaving ealadan, Paul has a dream that Lynch depicts th ro ugh
a montage sequence. W e see a drop of water fa lling into a pool th at d is
sol ves ro a close-up of F ey d-Rautha (Sting), a mem be r of the House
H a rkonnen (the enemy of the Atreides), say ing, 'T U kili you ." A nother
dissolv e leaos ro the mage of a moon (as Paul's voi ce-ove r says, "the
second m oon"), and this dissolves bac k to more drops of water falling
into a pool. The fi nal im age depicts the F rem en C hani, who says, "Tell
me of yOllr home world, Usul. " Through rhis dream mom age, Pa ul
foresees rhe res t of rhe film : he wiU becom c a F rem en w ith the name
Usul, discover vast amouots of wa ter on Arrakis, fi g ht and kili Feyo
Rauth'1 after freeing Arrak is, and fall in love w ith C hani. Su t from the
pcrspective of the world of d esi re, this is ooly a d ream , nol yet a reality.
The promi sed enjoyment ex ists here only in a futural sc nsc.
:i
j Sut enj oy m ent does penetrate in to the wo rlo of Calada n in the for m
of the threa tcning othe r. In Dune, th e worlJ w he rc the imposs ible ob
ject is absent has onl y a Aeeting existencc ano finds irscJf u nd er assault
from the beginning. Calada n is an island that enj oymenr rhreatens ro
overru n . When Paul spa rs witb G urney, Lynch shows them fi gh ting
with shieJd s to protec t themselves. T hese tra nslucent fo rce ficl ds CQve r
the eotire body and protect each person from m e opponen t's knife
thrusts . But at th e end of the fi g ht, both Paul and G uroey penet rate the
other's shield and hold each other at knifepoint. This is poss ible, as they
explain, beca use the shicld can not dcfend a slow movement ofthe kn ife.
One has protec tion fr om the th rea t, but one rem ain s vu ln erable.
The threa t m akes its presence more keenly felt w hell Reve rend
Mother Gaius H elen Mohiam tests Paul. She forces him to place hi s
hand in a green box that produces pain, and if he removes his hand , she
will stab him with a poison d an. As she acti vates me box, L ynch shows
an imJ ge of Paul's charred ha nd wim Aames su perimposed and smoke
coming from ir. H e alternates a se ries of shor~ sh mving incn.:a.jng dam
age to Paul 's hand wi th shots showing hi s aglllll zn l LllT llI d I he Rcver
end Mother administering (he pa in . \ 1 11", 1' 1111 "(ti,, ' " nt'~srIJI test,
Pau! removes hi s hlnu frorn th!.' 11t )\, .1 11.1 Wl' ~r,' I'lItl \ll\d:llnnged
,.\ 111\ \ M~OSS llll1 D~ v\n \ Y,.,l' lI
hand . Hc co nfronts-ano we co nfro nt-an irnagc o f burning, but not
actual burning. The world of oesi re depicted here is a ",orld in which
the rcal thr::ats and the real enj oymen t are elsewhere.
Voices Unhinged
Seyond Caladan, the world depicteo in DU17C is co mpl etely fantasmatic:
enjoyment is present throughout lhis world. The ind iea tions that the
film fuHy immerses us in a world offantasy are apparent in the nu ances
of the film's formo The form lacks the stability ;l nd distance that we find
in social reality; the barricrs ano limita tions that constitute Our experi
ence of ex ternal rea lity are absent. Thi s becomcs espee i:dly ev ident in
the film 's yoicc-over narration. Dune begin s with the image of a narra
tor, Princess J rulan, speaking directly into the ca mera. Rathe r than pro
vide a se nse of narrativ e stability that would allow us to loeate ourselves
w ith in the narra tjve as spectators, this initial direct addrcss and subse
quent vojce-over has the oppos ite effect. In mis sense, the role of voice
over narration in Dune co ntrasts with the role that it plays in most other
films, especiall y in film noir.
W hen film noi r em ploys a narrato r, hc- almost al ways he-has the
cffcc t of provi d ing a g uide for our journey in to the darkness of the film
noir world . I n such films , the na rrator se rves as our Virgi l, guiding us
and providing us w ith a se nse of stabil ity in a world lack ing ir. T he film
noir voice-ovcr work s ro offse t the radicali ty of the fi lm's explorati on of
soci ety's underside. lt locates the spectator safely wi thin the social order
wh ile invcstigating challenges to it. S ut thc voice-ove r narration in
Dune works in almost exactl y the opposite way. lt se rves to destabilize
the spectator beca use of its u nusual deployment.9
Lynch demonstrates the lack of stability in Iru lan's narra tion in the
opening scene and in the patte rn-or lack of patte rn-in her subse
quent narrati vc intrusio ns. The first shot of lhe fi lm is a close-up of Ir
ulan's eyes. T hc camera pulls ba ck to a shot of he r eotire face, and she
narrates the backg roun d for th e film's story. Sut as Trul an begin s to dis
cuss the spice and ts ce ntra l role in the economy of the filmic world, the
image of her face disa ppears fr om th e scrcen. She subsequent ly reap
pca rs, and then, as she oisappears a sccond rim c, ~h c quickl y reappears
again :11 11 1 nOf es Ih ;lr she fo rgot to disC ll ~, li le 1I1/" L im p' )rwnt detail
the loC II jlll l ,,[ 11 " 'picc. T h is om i:;sillll .11111 ( elf n'~ I <I n ttnrlc rcu t!. f ru-
U UNl , ,,
lan's ;lUthority (as films scldom do wirh their narrarors) and subverts
the sense of srahil iry rha t vo ice-ove r narra tion tend s to proviJ e for the
specrator. Th e di sappearance and reappea ra nce of her image on th e
screen disconnects vo ice from im age, furth c r destabilizing the spec tator
in relation to the na rrariv e. r o
Bur what is most significant about this opening scenc of direct ad
dress is rhe timing of the initi al disappea rance ofIrulan's image. Irulan's
face disappears when she talks about the spice and its power. By linking
the disappearance of the film's narrato r to her discussion of the spice,
Lynch impli es th e incompa tibility of subjecti ve mastery and enjoymcnr.
The spice, a substance of pure enjoyme nt, oerails the mastering powe r
of lrulan's narr:ltion and eve n causes he r to forger momentarily a c ru
cial part of he r prese ntaton. In the fanta sy world of Dunc, cnjoyment,
not the mastering powe r o f voice-ove r narration, hold s sway. This is
also why Irulan 's narration during rhe rcsr (lf the film is so inconsiste nt.
After her ini rial d esc riptions of the n a rrati ve situarian, he r na rration
disappea rs for long period s of time and reappea rs at random . This is
one of rhe ways in which L ynch departs from his source text, Frank
H erbert's novel DI/ne. Whe reas Lynch esrahlishes lrulan 's narra tive
voice as unreliabl e anc! incon sistent, He rbert uses it as a consta nt and
reassuring p rese nce. Thi s depa rture from m e novel suggests the fantas
matic narure of the world Lynch sets up in tbe film. Here, the mas ter
ing voice no longe r holo s sway: the fan tasma tic world of the film seve rs
rhc voice from its role in stabilizing our cx peri ence. Mastery fails in the
fantas)' when it comes up against the prolife ra tion of the impossible
objecr.
The role of Irula n's voice in her narration exem plifies Ly nch's trea t
ment of the voice rhrough our hi s film s. Fo r Lynch, the voice functions as
an impossible object e mbod ying the ultimate enj oy m e nt. Rather than
quelling our d esire by providing a sense of m aster)', he depicts the voice
as an eng ine for our desi rc-on e of the objecr-causes that triggers ir.
Slavoj Zizek cla ims thatDunc isolates "the obseene, cruel, superego-like,
incom prehensible, impenetrable, trauma rie dim e nsion of th e voice
which is a kind of foreign hody perturbing the balance of our lives.""
This conception ofthe voice is apparcnt nor only in (rlll, lI narra ti on but
also in the way the voiee figures wi thin rlw fi 1111 \ 11.11 1.1' 1\"('. 111 {)Ul1C, m e
voiee is a weapon rha t the wome n oh 111" (k ili (tl .\ll I ;' 1'1 11"\1hnod-a nd
eventuall y Palll- L1se ro sunvc rt lit e ,1111 11t}l ll V ,,1 1.111 ' ,'tlll',1 1I 'Il~ wi ll.
7/ TH r IMP OSG 'fll l DA Vln lVNC It
When one employ s "t.he voice," 0 I1 C'S OW11 voi ce alters in piteh a nd
ronal ity, a nd thi s alte rarion allows the speaker ro ca use ot.he rs to aet in
ways thar they do not consciousl y intend . Lynch's presentation of the
voice 'cmphas izes its ability ro thwart the mastery we usuall y associate
with speec h. The sOll nd of the speake r's voice loses the disrincuve ehar
acrer of the speaker, beeoming d eep and completely hollow. W hat a
cha racter say~ while using m e vo ice lacks the usual tim ber that we hea r
in he r voice and reso un d s in a haunting register. It is as if durin g rhe
im plemenrarion of the voice th e characrer's voiee detaches from the
characrcr herself and beeomes an indc pe ndcntl y cx isring objcct. This
accounts for its ab ili ty to unsettle both cha rac ters within the fi lm and
specta tors wa tching, as the use of the voice by Pa ul 's sister A lia (Alicia
Roa nn e Wi tt) a ttests m os r cl eady. W e see A lia, who is jusr a young girl,
use rhe voiee on Baron H a rkonnen. The sound of th e voi ce coming
from Alia is especially disturbing beca use its dee p souncl conrrasrs to
sueo <In extent with her appea ranec. F urth erm o re, the voice en obles her
to destroy th e Baron d espitc his powe r and super io r stre ng rh . Rat he r
rhan work ing to reinforce a regime o f power, the voiee challe nges a nd
unde rmines eve ry such regime . Li ke the absence o f 1r ulan 's narra ti ve
voi ce in the extrad iegetic realm, the film 's d epic tion o f rhe voice as a
wea pon w ith in me di eges i~ con firm s its status as a dis rupri ve objecr
cause of d esire.
T he voice doesn't just disturh o thers; it de p rives the sub jec t using ir
of he r/ h is OWll s<."nse of sy m bolie identity. To use the voice is to id enti[y
wieh a detached bject. Its power to alte r the m ateria l wor ld d eri ves
from this process of tbe subjeel recogni z ing her/b imself in an obj ecr
thar has no su bstance. Few in the film have the powe r of tbe voice not
just because it is a secret held by a small grou p but because few can sub
mit t O th is ide ntification. T he loss of symbolic identity, the recognition
thar onc's subjectivity is reducible to an in significant ob jec t, mak es the
use of the voiee es peci all)' difficult for men , w hose symbolic identity is
tied ro hav ing rhe object ra ther tha n be ing reduced to ir. Pau l, rhe only
man in rhe film w ith thi s abil iry, lea rn s the voiee from bis mother.
T he weapon rhat P a ul gi ves the F remen to facilita te their revolurion
lnvolves an other fo rm ofthe voiee as an ob ject. I t is a m a re rial wcapon,
bu t one fi res it by prod ucing a ccrtain pirch w irh ont: 's voicc a nd alrer
ing this ri leh in a speein e W;l y. H e train s Ihe Frcm t:n to ma nipulare
rhci r v.. in" 111 II ldn lu activa t!.! d1t: Wl" pOll. 1\... w ilh lhe v"icc. rhis
[l ll Nf
weapon requires the subject to identify w ith the voice as an obj ect--or
at lea st to cxpc rie nce he r/ his voice as a d etached objcct. This wea pon
d oes not appear in H c rbe rt's novel; Lync h adds it in the film , as he ma
ni pulates Irulan's narratio n, in orde r to stress the radical powcr of the
vo ice as an im possible obj ec t a nd the prolife ration of this object rh roug h
out the fantasy world of D une .
E ve n the reru rn of Irulan's narrat iv e voice fails to reassert a se nse of
stabili ry to thi s wo rlJ. Instability arises from th e use of the audible in
ne r voice-we hea r thoughts-of so ma n)' oth e r cha ractc rs in the fil m .
This technique, as M ichel Chion notes, is "a lmost uniq ue" in thc his
to ry of cinem a. But Ly nch uses it here for a ver y precise reason: the au
dible inner vo ices indicate the absence of a cleady del ineated sense of
external rea lity. Beca use its w urld is so completcl y a world offa n tas y, in
Dune one cannot distinguish betwcen the inte rnal a ne! the exte rnal
bet ween psychic rea li ty and social re::di t)'. Thi s is o ne of the results of
fanta sy. Part of w hat makes fa ntasy en joyablc is its abi lity ro erase this
barri er a nd to permit us to imagi ne acts rha r wou ld have rea l cffecrs.
Th e absence of d elinearion betw ee n the inte rnal a nd the exte rnal
vo ice has ram ificat io ns fo r the spccta to r as w el l: it furth e r di sturbs
our ahility to g ain a sense of mastery ove r the filmic real jry. A s C hio n
pu ts it,
Th e film 's in ne r voices, often spoken softl y, belong to the same
space as the exte rnalised voices, thus bl urring our rd a rion to rea l
ity. T he rea 1i ry on show rests on a discourse proffe red as if in a
d ream. Lynch's intention was indeed to m ake a d ream -film, thoug h
this is not to S; y th at he w holly m aste red me p roj ect. The problem
w ith such a Rock of me ntal voices is that they jam the othe r voice
over, th e traclitional na rrative voice of P rincess [rul an , so that she
seems like an intrud e r, out of pbce. w he n she return s an hour a fre r
the begin ni ng of the film . 12
Th ough Ch io n adroitly anal yzes the effect that th e inne r voices h a ve
on the spectator, hi s cri tic ism of Lync h fo r lhe confusi on they generare
relative to l rulat na rration mi $sc$ the rok Ihal t1l i~ l"<mf'llsi<) n pla ys in
the expe ri ence of the fi lm . By cre:l ting CIII1 1'11\ 11111 111"1Wl.:l.:rl
voices an cl the rcby und e rm ining t111' :111 1111 11 tl y ,,1 11 11 IHl lllary VOi C
ovcr narra lion, Lyn ch crca tn; li h ll \, I lI'lt~ ~~" lIh", 1 1I Ill fh ll r il } i~ Iack
76 1111 tMPOS:. t Ult [)IIV lI l i VNr. 1I
ing. No sy mbolie authority exis t~ 11) :.tnbil ize rhe se nse of what is real
and 'vv hat is not or to police th e b:lr ricr bctwee n th e inte rnal and the ex
te rnal. In this wo rld, there ha s beco no origina ry loss of the pri vileged
object: one ca n still have direct a.ccess ro en joyrnen t, and as a res ult, it
prolife ra tes.
A world withou t an o rig ina ry 105s- a world that enables direct ac
cess to e njoym ent- is neccssa ril y a fantasmatic world . T he p rivileged
object does not cx ist prior to its lossj th e loss of this o bject is the crucial
evcnt, which gives it its privileged status aod constitutes it as the object
embod ying the ultimate enj oyrne n t. A world wi thout me o riginary loss
of this obj cct can ooly exist retrospectivel y after one has lost it. Fantasy
providcs the retrospec tive look thar en visions this impossible world
prior to the loss of dircc t accc ;.;s ro enjoyment . By nostalgically imagin
ing a tim e befo re loss, fantas)' produces a world where barri ers and
limits do not hold .
Inside Is Outside
Both th e prolife rat ion of enj oy m e nt and the breakdown between the
im e rna l and exte rnal m anifest themsel ves prom ine ntl y in the character
uf Ba ron Vladi mir H arko nne n. Ba ron H a r ko n ncn is a fig ure of pure
enjoy rnen t. as bot h his bod y and h is be.havior ev in ee. H is bod y is n ot
on ly ov erw ei gh t h Ul ravaged by di seases that distort h is appearance.
Open and ooz ing sores co ver his fa ce. These visi ble Jiseases do oo t
transfo rm rhe Baron into a fig u re of pity-that is, they do n ot ind icate
his failure o r inability to enjoy- but insleaJ ser ve as an index of th e ex
tent to w hich he does enjoyo T h e diseases appear to be the result of h is
proA.igate li fe, a nd this p roAigacy continues to exist in the ve ry open
sores th e mselves. Ba ron Harkonn en's rcl a tion ship to his ow n diseases
m a kes this clear. Rat her than being ashamed of his grotesque complex
ion, Ba ron H a rkonn en ta kes pridc in it. H e employs a doctor to nurse
his w ound s a nd profess their beau ty. A t one point, the doctor says to the
Ba ron, "You are so bcautiful , rn y Baron. You r sk in , love to me. Your
diseases loving ly eared fo r, fo r all etc rn iry." Thi s state rnent (which cen
sors removed from the tel e\' ision ex ten cled-lc.ngth vc.rsio n of th e film)
Cu lTl pet ing re veals that th ese d iseases functio n as a so urce of prid c for th e Ba ron
insofar as tlwy m ark hi s p ri\ ikgcd rc la tions hip ro cnj oymen t. They
a lso il hl\lt.th' ti \( hr~a k d()\v n hc rwl~' 1\ tlli' illllTll : .! :In.! ex te rna\; the
1IIJN f /'
diseaSed parts o fth e Ba ron's skin are paints at which his sk in no longe r
covers the insio c of h is hod y. ' 3 Through the diseases, m e Ba ron's imides
bubblc to the surface, suggesting that his body exis ts w ith out the limits
that define the typical body.
The Barnn also openly d ispl ays his u nrestrained sexuaJ e n joyment in
almost every action he performs in the film. Most obviously, he Aies
around while al! th e othe r characters in th e film rem a in confine u ro the
ground. Through th e way mat the film depicts h is fl ying, its assoc iatio n
with enjoyment becomes elca r.' 4 For instance, afte r he avo ids the assas
sination attempt b y Duke Leto that kills his assistam P ite r de V r ies
(Brad Dourif), the Baron cireles the room near the ceiling and shouts
repeatedly, ''I'm ali ve." An ea rlier outbreak o f even more excess ive eo
joyment occurs when the Baron first plans the e!ea th of Le to. After de
scrihing his pIan to eliminate the duke, he fli es to the ceiling of his
chamber where a liquid oil-like substance spews fo rth froIn a pipe.
While levitating below the pipe, the Ba ron barhes in tb e li quid , all ow
ing it to flow over his head and body. Lynch shoors thi s sce ne so as to
emphasize the sexual dimension of the experie nce for the Ba ron . We
see the Raron tilt hi s head back as the liquid falls o n hi m ane! a look o f
great satisfaction comes ac ross his facc.
He flies back to [he g round w here his g uards holJ a young boyo The
Baron carcsses the boy, then pulls o ut the boy's hea rt plug, w h ich causes
all the blood to ru sh from his body.1 5 A s the boy is dying and as his
blood spurts on the Baron, the Ba ron h un ches o ve r hirn w irh a nothe r
expression of sexu al satisfacrion. For the 8 3roll, th is type o f perve rse
enjoyment occurs publicl y anc! at the expe nse of o th e rs wbo are not
sharing his enjoyme nt (and w h o even die as a result o[ it), ano yet he
experiences no shame in his acts . A s his relationship to his diseases a lso
indicates, the Baro n pr ides him sel f on his ability lO cnjoy a nd d isp lay
publicly this enj oyment. These displays a re onl y possible beca use of the
absence of any symbolic a u thority in the fantasma tic wo rld thal Dutle
depicts. ,6
Everything about the Ha r k on nen world $uggests an absence of ;lO y
limitation on enjoyment. In the scene w here rhe B;.lron pl nLs rhe d eath
ofLeto, we see one (lf the Baron 's n ephe w s, Rahh; 1l (f'; lld :-;rnith), crush
an in sect in a smalJ cOIltQine r lnd then driJ) k tlll' li' llIlI l ll l ti llrms [rom
this process. A fter drinking from thl: l ll lll.llllt 1 H 11111.111 \llill'ly lOsscs it.
aside into an open pool of w aWr. 11 i, '"1,, "111 lit 111.. 0\\'1 1 , ti I"YIllCnl, nn t
80 rHf- I MP or.S l nu DAV I D I YNC II
cloing his part to sustain a n orderl y w o rld. The ;tcti vities a nd the dctlr
of th e Ba ron's palace chamber suggest that bodily enjoyment holds a
priv'eged place here. The Ba ron and bis nephews enjoy excess ively
a nd show no compunction about the ra mifications of mis en joyment on
others or the w orld. None ofthe restraints OIl en joymc n t th a t we w ould
expect to govern social interaction are ,in effecr on the H arkonnen
planet of Giedi Prime.
Tbe perv asiveness of sexual or bodily enjoym en t in H a rkonnen so
ciety indicates that the fan ra sy scenario of Dum: h,lS successfully by
passed sy mbolic law and prohibition. The unrestrained cnjoyment that
we see in H a rkonnen soc iety an d in the Baron himself is the direct re
sult of the very fantas m atic structure that produces Paul 's victory and
apotheosis at the end of the film. In th e primal fantasy that Dune enacts
that allows the subiect to access sllccessfully total enjoyment (in the
form of the spice). the re can be no symbolic la w barring th is access. The
symbolic la w places an interdicti o n on th e ki nd of total cnjoyment that
the spice prov ides, a nd thus the sce na rio tha t would render this enjoy
m ent accessible must lack thi s law. The result, as Lynch's film shows, is
a figure lik e Baron H ar konnen . He is the pricc th a t one pays for access
to the inaccess ible.
By de picting the Ba ro n and hi s socieey in the w ay th at he does, Lynch
shows the necessary und ersid e o f the c1assical Hollywood fa ntasy that
we seldom see in the c1a ssi ca l Holl ywood fi lm . S u t we shou ld see it.
Hollywood fi.l m p ro m ises IJS a fa n tas matic escape an d th en excrcises
great restrain t in its dep iction. Th is restra int creates na rrative desire by
with holding the fu ll d eploy ment of m e fantasy; by not exercising re
straint in this regard , Lynch occas ions a negative reaction from specta
to rs w ho want to ho ld on to some of th eir desire. An absence of restrai nt
allo ws Paul to reali ze d irectl y his drcam iosof:lC as it breaks dow' n
the ba rrier between dream an d reality: Paul dreams of the vast stores
of water on Arrakis, of C h ani hecom ing his 1over, and of becoming a
sav ior- all of w hich he reali zes . This same ahsence of restraint facili
tates Baron Ha rkonnen's public display of his private enjoy m e nt . A
complete irnmersion into the log ic of fa Olasy d e m ands the inelusion of
the Ba ron. Rather th an hiding this cxcess, Lynch 's film foreg rounds it.
Th c fi gu re oC H arkonnen and [he obscc nity uf G icdi P ri me are part
of the price \Ve pay a ~ spectators (or t11l' ranla ~ y Ihal Dlll1C r r~)ffe.r s . This
is 1101 111 ',,y dl.11 \!WClII l llrs can't e lljll)' 1 Ltr kll ll Dl'l l. They ('an ane! do.
a UNE 111
But our enjoyment ofhim renders the obscenity of our own enjoym ent
visible tu ourse! ves. The depiction of the Harkonnc n world forces us to
sce the aspect of our fantasy that we would like to disavow, and yet it is
integral to the way that fan tasy delivers on its promises. This is what
the proliferatin of en joyment in fanta sy looks like.
The Worms and the Spice
The fantasmatic \vorl d o fDune is a world without a n effectivc prohibi
tion and without the restraint on enjoyment that such a prohibitin
brings.'7 H ere, unlike in our cxpericnce of social reality, one can have a
direct experience of an impossible enjoyment. This absence of restralnt
on enjoyment provides the key ro understanding the role th at the spice
plays. In the world of Dune the spicc functions as w ha t Lacan calls das
Ding , the maternal Thing, the substance of pure e njoym ent.
Oroinarily, the Thing occupies the center of our reality, ano yet it
cannot appear within our cxpe rience of rc::d ity. Reali ry itsclf is con
structeo around the exclusion of th e Thing . As Laca n notes in Seminal"
Vll, "das Ding is a t the center onl)' in the sense that it is excl uded . That
is to say, in reality das Ding has to be posited as exte ri or, as the preh is
toric Oth e r that it is impossibl e to forget .. . som ething strange to m e,
although ir is a t the heart of m e, something that on m e leve! of th e un
conscious only a representation can represent. " J8 In Dune, howcvcr, th e
Thing is not excluded from the filmic wo rld but exists w ith in it. Though
access to it is dan ge rous (in volving the ri sk of a lethal encountc r with
the worms), one can noncthekss reach it. O n ly in th e world o f a funda
mental fantasy can the Thing exist on the same pl:lOe as othcr objects.
'vVhcn Paul first encou nte rs the spice, the film registe rs its link ro the
ultimate enjoyment: he smells the spice on hi s finge rs, and th e sc reen be
comes completel y w hite, as it does when He nry touches the Radiaror
Lady in Eraserhead. Lyn ch assciates the spice with enjyment through
its qualities, cffccts, and rarity. frulan's opening narration tells us that
the spice is the m ost valuablc comm od ity in the u nive rsc and that it is 10
cated on only one plane t, A rra kis . The desolate nature of the surfact of
Arrak is-its near-totallack of wate r- ancl the prcscncc ()f the worm s,
which pro tect the spice from sp.ice mine rs. hnth St r\ t' 1<1 m:tkc me spice
ve ry difficult ro obtai n. One must consl:tllll y 1"'1 II I I! \ li /t il l ris k because
one mu st mi ne in rhe open dcscrl :tll.] '\. !~ Y I II IIIIII ~', 'pcr: ll ioll b ri ngs
81 rHf I MP OS~ II.Ill DA VIIJ I 'iN ' 11
the worms soon after it bcgins. T hcsc d ifflcul ti es testify t,) the spice's
pr(:cious nature. Ir has such a g rea t vallle that it can not be meas ured
against other commodities. But this value cloes Ilot de ri ve simply from its
preClous ness.
The chicf property of the spice is its abily ro fold space, which is the
use the Guild naviga to rs put it towa rd. Thi s use ofth e spice allows space
traveLe rs to trave rse immensc distan ces w ithout actua lly mving: it
causes distancc irse!f to disa ppear (wh ich m akes it an id eal substance for
Lynch's cinema of proximity ). W he n we enjoy, we mom e nta rily evade
the confines and limitations ofou r sym bolic ide nti ty; t he spice represents
the ultimate enjoyment beca use it allows one to evade the spatial ancl
temporallimitati ons of reality irself. Ir p rovides a n actual experience of
w hat Freud calls the "ocea nic feeling "- a.n experience in whic h one 's
distance from the res t of th e univ erse evapora tes. For Freud, rhis fee!ing
is always on1y imagina ry insofa r as th e T hing rem ains consrituti vely out
of reac h. ' 9 Bllt in the fantasm atic world of Dune, the T hing exi sts on th e
sam e plane as the r em pirical objects w ithout losing its p ri vileged status.
T h is is rh e feat th :1t the fantasy iu Dune accom plishes, an d it rend ers visi
ble an im possible cxpe rie nce-total en joymenl.
Much of the negativc rea ction tu D ullt: stems from Lynch 's at tempt
to show Lhe exper ience of total en joymcnt. Most film s promise lh is ex
perie nce, but a1m ost none dc pict it. W hy not? T he depiction of total
cnj oy m e nt cannor but stri ke th e spectato r as absurd and incom mel1SU
ra te w ilh the cx pectation th a t precedes it. We prefer just a hi n t of this
ultimate experience rarher than the experience itsel f so that we ca n COI1
tin ue to anticipa te its (infinite) magniLU d e. But Lynch 's film cloes not
allow rhis. T h e fig ures of total cnjoyrnenr in DU12e are me G uild navi
gators. T hey ex ist in constant contact w ith the spice and use it ro fold
space, bu t this co ntact w ith the T hing d eforms them . In our first view
of a Gui ld nav igatu r in the E mpe ror's palace, we scc a fi shlike creature
w ith a n enl a rged head and a sm~]1 body. Throug hclose-ups on the un
dulating m outh a nd a bulgin g eye, the disgust ing form of this creature
becomes cv iclent. A n imme rsion in com plete en joyment transforms the
G uiJd nav iga to rs, acco rding to Ly nch's vision, into grotesque beas ts.
This is thc spectato r's im agc uf th e ultim a te en joy ment.
Lynch pushes rhe depictio n cvc n furrh cr w he n he shows the G uil d
na vigato rs ; lld ing space so th at Hous(" Alrc itll:' c m Ira vel to A r rak is.
We S(;~ ll w " lIl lrl hody of a G ui ld n:t v;g;t l, Ir \ i, ,k in ;tll extreme long
P UNF .1.1
sh or, and thi s shot reveals the ahsurd form of this creature. Th e n aviga
tor does not a p pea r frighterring, powcrful, or attracti ve-j ust sil1 y. T h e
poor special e.ffects in this scenc add to this sens e. But the silliness of the
imag c does no r m ark a point of Lynch's failure in Durze; ir re presents
che successful depiction ()f complete enjoyme nr. W he n one imme rses
oneself in enjoyment, one loses onc's sym bolic anchoring and becom es
absurdo One no ves bcyond the bounds of sense. The subject d oesn 't
enjoy by possessing the object; t'tle object tak es control of and d cforrm
rhe sub jcct.
The Jbsurdity continues in Lynch's depiction oh he fo ldi ng of space.
We see the Guild na vigator moving through a giant ship that holds the
ships that \v il1 travel across the folded space. W hile m oving, che n aviga
tor shoots a beam ofl ight ou t o f its midsection . Se vera l other streams of
lig ht burst fort:b fr om the G uild navigator as we begi n to hea r a rdi
gious chant on the audi o track, w hich adds a sacred qu ality to rhe expe
rience. The stream s oflight are visible aga ins t a bac kg rou nu of sw irling
an d fticke r ing points of brig htn ess . We see pla ne ts en com passed by
wa ves cf the di fferent streams of light tha r then return to the G uild
navigato r itsdf. Lyn ch 's use of images ofbri g ht: Iight and sa cred mu sic
he re create th e sense of a complete ly fantasma tic ex pe rience . Whe n
s pJce fo ld s, on e experiences a ki n d of en joymen t ma t one can n ot access
w it hout the speci al qua li ty of the sp ice, but the film re vea ls th is en joy
m en t as nonse nsical. lt is difficult to cnjoy the de p icti on of total e nj oy
m enr in Dune bccause lhe excessi ve images d etach this en joyme n t from
the rea lm of sig nifica tion.
As th e T hing , the spice is the site of the ultirl1J te enjoym en t, but as
the em bodi me nt o f the ultimare en joym en t , it rep resents a ho rro r as
wen-the com p lete loss o f sig nifica tion and mastery. Accord ing to
L acan, F reud's great insight is his grasp of the ident iry hetwcen rhe
high est good an d the greatest horror. He show s, in o the r w o rd s, th at
tl1e ohject thar would provid e th e ulti mate enj oyment, th e T h ing, is at
th e same tim e a fo rbidden incestuous obj ect. DUllc initial1 y de picts these
:lS distincr: one must run th e ri sk ofthe ult.im are ho rror (lhe worms) in
order to o btai n rhe ultimate e nj oyment (the spice). BU( w he n Paul un
J ergoes his fioal tram fo rma tion into th e Kwi);;wl. H ~d e rach a fre r
drinking tbe water of Ji fe, the fil m ;]ssc rI " !I \(' id L11111 >IIr ,lit: ~pice and
d1C w o rm s-the ide n tit y of the ul li lTl :l c "IIJ Ct~ " H 111
h orror. By d cpicting Paul com in g 1.. 1111 ' 1<:, 11 17;1111 11 1
~4 1111 IM I'n S&1 11l 1 " "'V I lO l YNC II
ascend s fully to his fantasmatic role ufthe un iverse's super- hein g , Lyn ch
illustrates the traum a involveJ w ith the complete reali zation of one's
fantas y.
Clearly, the idea of anyone as the uni verse's super-be ing is fanta s
m a tic, and ye t, w hen P aul tak es up this position, h e is a bl e to make a
connecti on that no sub ject ca n actually slIstain. G ra spi.ng the identity of
the wor m s and th e spice means see ing rn e inccstuous o bj ect, the object
tb ar a lways threa tens to swa ll ow me su b ject, in the object one fa ntasizes
abollt. L yn ch reveals rhe tra uma of rh is recogn ition in his depiction of
P 3u l's transformation. We see a variation on rhe mo ntage sequen ce that
repeats seve ral ti mes in the 111m: a sho t of <el d rop of water fal1ing into a
pool, fo llowed by a shot of a worm mouth ope ning, ;md then anoth er
dro p fa ll i ng . Lyn ch c uts bJck to Pa ul's face with a loo k of agony as h is
voice -ove r says, " T h e wo rm is the spice. T he spice is the w orm." A.fte r
this rccogni tio n, h e ha s a look ofhorror and screams, " N o! " In a se ries
of sh ors w e see th e Bene Gcsseri l wom en al1 regi ste r the trauma o f me
recogn ition as well: L ynch sh ows Reve re nd Mothe r G;: ius Heleo Mo
hiam , P nul's moth er Jessica (Francesca An n is), an d his si ste r A lia a ll
bleed ing fr om th eir lDou th s. W h en one recogn izes the id eJlt ity of th e
wo rrns a.nd rhe spi ce, one loses rhe di stancc w ithin on ese lf dlar makes
ne a su bject, lranscendi n g the p rimord ial repression ch at inau gu ra res
subjccti vi ty ilself T h is is possi ble o nly in fant asy, and even in fa n tasy
we stop fan tas izing be fo re We reach this po int.
T he en joyme n t th al Pau l find s in hi s fantaS)' o f saving th e w orld is a
fem ini n e e nioyment. He tells the Revere n d Mm h er Ga ius H elen Mo
hiam, "Try looki ng into tha t p lace w here yO ll cia re not look . You 'lI fincl
me there sra r ing bac k a t yOll. " Thi s place inside herself w here w o men
"dare fl ot look" is the site of fem in ine enjoymen t- an ex perience that
overw helms the fe m a le sub ject ro such a n exten t that she can n ot h ave
a ny know ledge of it. As rh e Reverend M other tell s Paul ea rly in the
fil m , no m an ha s ever su ccessfu Uy accessed it, tho ug h m an y ha ve "cried
a nd died."
In orde r to depict Pau l's access to fe minine enj oym ent, Lynch high
ligh ts rhe fc m inine na t ure of the sp ice and th e worms. T h is in[orms the
mosr important cha nge rh ar L ync h m a k es t CI Herbnt's ll ovel. W he reas
H~r b~ c mp hnsizes th e immense size an d p ha llic na u lre o f the wo rms,
I lld Ihe u lti mate Lyn ch's i ma gc~ of rhc.:rn foc ll s aJmost sn ldy IJ I1 lhl..' ir hugt, rceth -lined
q 1\ 11" 11 1lllnCnt he m oul h ~. ;111 (IPIIIIII.\I IIHII s uggests :1 vlg in a d" I1 I ; I! ,1. Ol'lcllIi l1lo, Lync h
" UNI Wl
shoots the worms as thcir mouth~ open, anJ we ~ee th e gaping hole that
threate ns to swallow everything. By gi ving the wo rms this vag inallook
and associating th em with the spice, Lynch suggests that the enjoymcnt
ofthe spice is specifically fem inine enjoyment.
Masculine enjoyment is tied to the soc ial o rder beca use it occurs
through an identification with the ccnter of this o rder-the master or
phallic signifier. Enj oying lik e ama n means getting off on the illusion of
phallic potency. As phallic enj oyment, it nevcr threa tens th e ph::tllic so
cial arder. But fe minine enjoym ent or jouissa nce caonot be red uced to
this order beca use it does not d epend on its connection to the ma ster sig
nifier. Lacan has feminine enjoyment in mind in Seminar XX when he
daim s, "There ,is a jauissanee ... ' beyond th e phallus.' "20 Thi s enj0Y
ment transcends the phal lic order in sofar as it is al ways outside of itsdf,
always elsewh ere. Ir is the enjoyment that one feds when one is over
co me and experiences an eve nt that goes beyond one's abil ity to rcgister
il. 2 1 One experiences w ithout knowing precisely w hat one is experienc
ing. The difference betwee n m::tsculine and feminine enjoyment is the
difference betwee n the finite and the infinite. T he fini te nature of m as
culine enjoyment rend ers it qua ntifiable and containable; th e infi n ite na
ture of feminin e en joyment renders it diffuse an d u ngrasp::tblc. W hereas
masculine enjoy ment can- and most often does- ass ist in the funct on
ing of powe r, femi ni nc en joyment necessarily disrupts ir.
T hough control of the spic e appea rs to provid e power, it rem ain s, as
the substance of enjoyrn ent, fun damenta ll y beyond an y con trol. In fact,
it controls those who tIy to wield the power that it promises. Th is be
comes apparent in the c::tse of me G uild na vigators . T hough the G uild
uses the spice to retain a monopoly on space travel, the fi lm illustrates
how the G uild is actuall y enslaved to the sp ice. Not only is the Gu il d
completcly addicted to t he spice to the exten t th at it can not live without
it, but th e G u ild 's excessi ve exposure to the spice has deformed the
Guild navigators into grotesque creatures. T ltey exist in giant tanks of
liquid and have large vagin al openings in their midsections. T his spe
cifically vaginal opening is wh al facilitates th e fold ing of space. W hile
using the spice to fold space, one enj oys beyond th e phallus.
The appearance of fe minine cn joyment in a fantasmatic film Iike
Dune is not simply happenstance. The thrill ()r r; lltil~y-cv cn rbe mass
produced fantasi cs of c1a ssical H oll yw,,, ,d ,il ll'l ll.1 111''' in Cantasy's
a bil ity to approach [em in inc.: en JOY" I' 11 1 I d 111 .I .. n ~ 1" 111 111\1' lIS
86 l11 f l M POSS 1[1 l~ DAVI D l YNC~
ment that goes beyond th e acceptable an d transcends the constraints of
the social o rd er. Howeve r, most de pictions of fan tasy avoid approach
ing too close an d thus allow our experience to rem ain safely pleasur
able. Dune becomes unpl easurable beca use one loses one's safe distance
and en joys too much o The result is th e mass ive disavowal of the film 's
achicvem ent-a disavowal tha t extends eve n to Lynch himself.
The Perfect Ending
T he ending of the film shows Paul's triumph both as (he new ruler of
Arrakis and in his romantic union w im C hani. By bringing the two
narrative lincs of adventure and roma nce together in the fil m's conclu
sion, Lynch follo ws the classical Hollywood conventon, offering a
qu intessen tial fa ntasma tic resolution for the spectalOr. A fter the depic
ti on of the military victory, Lynch even neludes a g ratuitous knife fight
betwecn Paul and the Baron's ne ph ew, Feyd-Ra utha , w h ich allows the
spectaro r to en joy Paul's sk ill with the k nife and me grucsome death of
the evi l Feyd. Thc fi lm goes out of its way ro resolve all sense of dissat
isfaction through the fantas m aric conelusion tha t it la ys o ut.
In the fi nal scene of tbe fi lm , Paul accompli shes rhe impossi ble: he
brings rain LO A rrak is mrough apure act of w ill. The camera moves LO
wa rd a close-up of PauJ's bl ue eye that dissoJ.ves into me image of the
seas of Cal ada n, suggesting mat Pau l creates the rai n by bringin g the
wa ter f ro m Calad an ro Arrak is. H e completes rhe realization of his
fantasy of saving A rrakis by bring in g Lhe external w o rld of social real
ity into the fantasy. T he ba rr ier between these wo rl ds disa ppea rs at this
poinl. A s the ra in becom es visible in an exterior shot of A rrakis, we
hear Al ia using the voice and proclai ming, "A nd how can this be? For
he is the Kw isatz Haderach l" T his is perh aps more enjoyment than the
cinem a has eve r crea ted: Paul sa ves the oppressed F remen, kills his ri
val, overpowe rs the d es potc E mperor, crea tes rai n for a desert planet,
has his fantas y object C han i as h is lover, and ascends to the throne of
the un ive rse's super-being-w hile Alia's distorted voice, representing
the impossibl e object, provides th e comm enta ry. The fa ilu re of D une, if
that is wh at we wan t to caU it. is its succcssfu l en actm ent of en joym cnt
for me spectator. Lynch aUows us no di~ t;lI1 cc rrotn thc cnjoym ent that
wc scc, a nd bis d('p:lrture from h is so u rcc matcr iJ I fu rthcr indicates this
an en joy direct illll in tll' t1 I1I ,
/JlllU 111
 Likc Lynch, F rank H erbert io the no vel Dune depicts the victory of what an impossible compl ete cn joymcnt would look like not so that we
Paul and the Fremen ayer the Baron and the Emperor. Rut Herhert might em bark o n a sea rch for it, but so that we might recognizc how ir
taints this vicrory in ways that L yoch J oes noto H erbe rt explicitly links has already been rea lized. The fin al 3cl in Paul 's fanta sy proyides the
Paul's conquest to religiolls fuodamenta lism , to a jihad that Paul him kcy to the fi lm: in ord er to compl ete the famasy narratiy e, Paul must
self tries to avert. H erbe rt em phasizes Paul's internal conflict about the return to the social reality rep rescnted by Calada n to find the rain . The
struggle he llnleash es , and thus we cannot vie w the conclusion as un dissolve to an imag e of the Ca lacl a n sea from Paul's bluc eye reveals a
ambiguously as in L ynch's film. In addition, He rbert informs us that lu rn back ro the wo rld uf d esi re at the d ecisive mom cnt in the fantasy.
the Fremen lege nd of a sa voir who w illlea d them is in fact an ideologi The fantas)' of esca pe can onl )' complete itsclfby looping back to what
callie, imp la nted by the Bene Gesserit in order to render the Fremen ir esca pes from.
more docilc. By excluding this material that complicates and even un Through its con clud ing im age, Dune, L ynch's most overtl)' political
derm ines Pau l's victory, Ly nch allows us to enjo)' this victory to the ut fi lm , asks us ro lLnd erstand pol itical revolution-and the fantasy that
most. A nd in doing so, he shows whe re our en joyment Hes and the costs drives poli tical revolution-in a new way. As the film sho ws, we can
of this enj oymen t. He ineludes the element of religious fundamental transfo rm soci ety in line wi th our fa ntasies, b ut th is transformation
ism present in H erbert's novel-at the moment of his victory, Paul pro will, in me last insta nce, insert us back in the soc ia l rea lity that we haye
ela ims, "G od created Arrak is ro train the faithfu l. One cannot go again st Aed. There is a speculati ve iden tity between the new society we will
the w ord of G od " -but doesn't allaw us to mainta in distance from it create and the old one we w il l have left behind. T his is not to say that
through Paul's internal struggle in the way that H c rbert does. In the poltical change is not worth the effo rt. Dune clea dy takes the side of
film version, we enjo)' the fantasm a tic reso lution an d then must con Paul dnd revolutionary change as opposed to the conserv ariye forces of
fro nt the ra mifica tions of this enjoym ent w h ile th e novel's distance thc Ha ron and the Ernpe ror. But we must see m e revolu tionary alterna
spares us fro m th is enjoym cnt altogether. O ne fi nds oneself llnambigu tive not in terms of difference bu t in terms of ident.ity. By d oing so, we
ousl y on the side of resolution wh ile watching th e film and thereby ex effecruate a rcvolu tion thar embri.lce~ rhe necessity of repetition freely
peric nces fully the ramifications of one's fan tasizing. rather th an bli ndly su ccumbi ng to it.
Ma n)' science fiction films place LIS on the side of the working-cla ss
revolll tion---o r at Icast revolu tion aga inst oppress ion. Even films as
mainstream as Star Wa rs (George L ucas, T977), Total Recall (Pa ul Ver ho
even, 1990), and The [stand (Michael Bay, 20(5) sympatheri call y portra)'
the prospect of revoluti ona ry change. In each case, liberati on occurs
through the agency of an enlig htened avant-garde. Th e revolutionar)'
elite acts w ith certaint)' even w hen the ma jori ty of the population to be
liberatcd doesn 't agree with them . But the films de-emphasi ze this total
itarian d imension implicit in the revolts: we ha ve revolutionary change
without coercion. Dune makes the coercive force of Paul conspicuous
through th e fundamentalist dimension of his revolution. The film sug
gesrs rhat if we are seriousl y embrac ing revolution ar)' change, w e must
accept the coerci ve form in w hich it neces sarily comes.
By going too far ami offeri ng LIS too m uch c li;I 'yrn l' l1f , the fa nta s
matic re50lution in Dune e1 imina (c.;s fhe i. ka .,1 .1I1111[('r place, an al ter
nativc possibil ity, more th an any ofl.ylll 1.\ IIdll 1 Irl lIl' I.Vlh:h shows us

88 1111 I M ~OSSIBl[ CAV ID lVNC II tllJN e 89


FOU R F aotasizing the F ather in Blue Velvet
A Different Kind of Separation?
Ch aste n ed by tbe failur e of D une (1984) a nd h is se n se that he h ad lost
control of th e film. Ly n ch re tu rned to a sm aller sca \e fo r his next pro j
ect. He vo wed never again to g ive up fin al cut on a p ictu re, and thi s ne
cessitatcd ma king films for less m one y. B ut one could not imagin e a
more reso undi ng response to critical a nd popu lar failure th an Blue VeL
vet ( 19 86 ). Ir becam e Lynch's sign at ure fil m : if someon e knows onJy one
L ynch fil m , ch a nces are tha r th e fi lm is BLue Ve/veto A fter it ap pea rs,
David Lynch beca m c David Lynch-a cine m atic a u te u r. H e e ve n re
ceived a noth er Acad em y Awa rd nomin ation for Best D irector. No
prior o r subsequent fi lm genera ted aS m u c h popular aoc! scholarly in
te rest or as much criticism (a m ong fe minists fo r the violence towa rd
w ome n, among conse rvatives fo r the pe rverse im age o f small-tow n
A meri ca, a nd among Nlarxists for the seemin g nostalgi a for the 1950s) .
The interest almost inev ita bly focused on the conspicuous division be
twee n tw o o pposing wo rle!s rha t Lynch creates in the film .
F ollow ing Eraserh~ad ( 1977), The Elephant Man (1980), andDune, the
split between the public soc ial reaJi ty a nel it ~ b n l;\s Il1:11ir lllld crsicle seem s
eve n more p ro nou nccd in B/ue VdVtf . j\ lt IIml 1'\ l.'fy Vil'\vc'r of rhe film
n oticcs lh at it de picts "w n sc paral e w" rld~' tll ll l WI. I ' 1It" I ll'nuo: JS
',H l
rea l \Vo rle! , t ha t wh ich we can sC!e 3nd hea r an d to uch; and a subcon
SCi OU5, drea m wo rlJ whic h must re m a in hi d d en , so potentiaUy da rk and
viole n t a re its wand e rings.'" Lynch foregro un ds the o ppositi on between
(hese two d isti oct wo rl ds to such an extent thar d etecu n g it d oesn't e ve n
require a sop h isti ca tecl in te rpre tive aet. As L a ura M ul vey r ig htly points
out, "the binary o ppos ition be twce n the everyd a y an d the n ethe r w orlds
is there fo r all ro see and ro g rasp. "2 D espite th e obvio usness of m e op po
siti o n betwee n filmi c w o rld s- the p ubli c rea lity a nd its unde rsid e-the
m ost vi sible oppositi o n in Blue VcLvet d oes n ot revol ve a ro und d es ire a nd
[aotasy, but bctween two c1 iffe re nt m od es offantasy.
The binary o pposirion th at e vc ryon e notices while w a tching Rlue
Ve/vet is on e be tween tw o eguall y fan tas m atic world s: a n excessi vely
orclina ry pu blic w orld of L umbe rton m a t coexists w ith a simiLHly ex
agg e ratecl un der world po pu la ted by Fra nk Booth (Dcnnis Ho pper)
a n d hi s associa tes. Acco rcling to Slavo j Z izek , in "the Blue Ve/vN uni
ve rse . o. we enco unte r tbe fant asy in its two poies, in its paci fying as pect
(t he id yl\ic fa mi ly ti fe) as w ell as in its destructiv e/obsce ne/cxcessive as
pect. ,oJ Thro ug h th is o pposi tion , Ly nch develops more full y w ha t we
saw at wor k in [he st ructu re of The E lephont Mallo B ut in Blue Ve/vet,
the d iffe re nt aspects of fa utasy eme rge as fu lly developed wo rl cl s ra the r
ma l1 remaio ing, as in Tlle Eiepllant Man , opposing m od es o f su bjective
(John Merr ick 's) expe rie nce. A s a result, w e a re able to see their logic io
a way we cou ld no t in (he earlie r film .
T he publ ic wo rl d tha t we see when rbe fi lm opens is not " lhe rea l
wo rlcl " b ut a p urely fantasmatic one lhar co rres po nd s pe rfectl y-eve n
too perfectl y-ro an American id eal. Th e ope ning sh ots show a br ight
blue sky, g low ing red roses next tu a shi ny w hite p ickct fence, an d a
wav ing fi refi gh te r riding cl own the str eet on a red fir c e ng ine with a
D almatiln by his sid e. T h ese images suggest th e k in d of perfec tl y real
ized fa n tasy wo rld th a t One n e ver en cou nters in rea li tYo4 O n rh e other
h a nd , the ho rr ific und erside o f m is public fa ntasy is equall y extreme.
F r a n k Booth a nd his ga ng rev el in their perve rsi ry and total disrega rd
for the public law. Mere exposure ro the m endangers me life o f Jeffr ey
Bea umo nt (Ky le M acLachla n) :m d rc su l(~ in a severe bca ting . If the
public w o rld o f Bte Velvet rep resents ~tn A m er ican ideal, ilS uJl d e rside
r eprcscnts an A m erican nig htm l rl:. \-V hal di still,l!;u ish t:s BLue Ve/vet
f rorn th e lypicil l A m e rican fa ntas y is Ihe ('1'1(' 111 ," whir h i1 h ~)ld s these
''the twa w lllt d, "11.111
11 11/1' VflVf 1 ."
 Beca use Blue Velvet depicts two competing [a11 l:l SY wo rlds, it con
sta ndy violates narra ci ve logic in ways that are possiblc onl y w ith in the
structure of fantasy and in ways that reAect I he SI ruggle between the
twO fantasy worlds. Or, as C. Kenneth Pcllow pues ir, "Over and ove r
again, Lynch commits blun de rs (both in his seript lnd in h is directio n)
in the are.as of sequen ce , causation, and consiste ncy."5 Pellow's scathing
criti cisms of the film have the ironic cfrect of d erailing precisely how
Lynch 's film e m ploys fa ntasy. F or in stance, according to Pello w , the
setting for the film, Lumberton, "is a small town w hen that's co nv e
nient to his them e, and il is a b ig city whcn that se r ves his need."6 This
ability of Lumberton to be at once a sma ll to w n and a big ci ty indicates
not the failure of Lynch's filmmaking abili ty but the fac t tbat he has sit
uated us on the terrain of two opposed fa ntas)' structures: in the idea l
fantasy, Lumbe rto n is a sm all town , but in the nig htmare fantasy, it's a
big city. lt has th e quaintncss of the small town an d the problcms of a
big city (d rug deal ing, m u rder, etc.). Each of the "vacillations in na rra
tiv e logic" tha t we might derect in the film- an d the re are m any-point
LIS in this direction . By p resen ting LIS with these two opposed fa ntas y
world s, Lynch lays bare how fantas y necessa rily work s.
Fan tasy always fu nctio ns in these twO m od es, one com fo rting a nd
the other disconcert ing. As Sla vo j Z ize k notes,
the notion of fantasy offers a n exempla ry case of the dialectical Cu
incidentia oppositol'um: on the one hand , fan tasy in its beatific side,
in its stabilizing dim enson, the dream of a state w ithout distur
bances, out of reach of hum an deprav ity; on the other ha nd, fa ntas y
in ts destabilizing dimension, w hose e1ementary form is envy-all
th at "irritates" me about the O the r, images that haunt me of what
he or she is doing whcn out of my sight, of how he or she deceiv es
me and plots against me, ofhow he or she ignores me and indulges
in an enj oyment th at is intensive beyond my capacity of represen ta
ton, anJ so on and so forth ,7
These two modes of fan tasy have an interconnected rela tionship, as we
sa w in th e case of The Elephant Man . But Blue Velvet furth er shows us
w hy we cannot sim ply conten t ou n;e\ ves w irl! tlll' \ Llhili 'l.ing fan tasy: it
fail s to provide rhe stability tha r it prnllll .. n, .\IId IIl i.. I.li llm: ofstabili ty
gives rise ro the destahiliz ing or lIi g ltllll .11 ~ 11 l i lll'" ~Y Ib.1! provides a n
Y1 THf I MPOSS l n l r O AVl 11 I VI'l c.:1!
explallation for thi s failu re. Though the stabili zing fanta sy fails in he r
entl y, on its ow n term s, the existenee of the nig htmare fantasy enables
us to resc ue the stabili z ing fantasy and explain its fai lure w ith reference
to a n exte rnal rathe r than an in le rnal cause. It is in this sensc that the
fantas)' of rhe ideal depends on its un derside.
Thi s inte rd ependence of the two m odes of fantasy causes us to expe
ri ence them at the sam e time and in an inte rrelated way. In thi s sense,
the di vision of the two opposed m odes of fa ntasy in Btue Veh'et sepa
rates what we ex per ience together. Just as we n ormally ex perience de
sire and fantas)' in a11 inte rrel ated way, we also cxpe ri ence the two
modes of fantasizing-the famas)' of the id eal and the nig htmare
simultan eously. That is to say, w h en w e fa ntasize about our ideal, we
fantasize sim ul taneously about the threats that imperil that ideal. If, for
example, we e nrertain a nostalgi c fantasy abo u t small-town America,
we al so fantasize the imm inent d estruction of thi s id eal duc ro the rise
of the Iarge city. [n our ty pical expe rience of fanta sy, the nig htmare ex
ists within the sa mc narrati ve structure as the ideal.
Even cinemate fa ntasies te nd to affinn this marriage of che two
modes. A romantic comedy th at strives to show a fantasy of an id eal ro
m antie un ion always rehearse s m e threats ro tha r union. And a horro r
film m ar delves into a nightma ri sh fantasy stages this nightmare against
the backgroun d of the iJea l that ir threatens. T bis is w ha t gives Blue
Velvet ts in itial d istinctivencss as a fi lm . By sepa raring the two m odes of
fa n tasy, Lyneh allows us to see their simila rity. lron ically, w hen the
idea l and the nig h tmare function together, we cannot see the u nderly
illg sim ilarity thar bi nds rhem together; their very in te racti on has the
effcc t of making them see m comp le tcl y d iffe rent. Bu t in the act of sepa
ra tin g a nd oppos ing th em , Blue Ve/ve! rend ers visible thi s simil a ri ty be
tween rhe ideal a nd the n ightmare that fa ntasies usually obscure .8
Despite the obv iousn ess of the oppositi on betwee n rhe ideal world
a nd the nightmare world , as is also tr ue of The Elephant Man , this op
position is not the m ost impo rtan t one that Lynch co nstruets in t he film.
le also creates an oppostion be twee n a w orl d of desire a nJ a wo rld of
fa n tasy. Between the two eompeting fa nta sy st ructures, Lyn ch inse rts a
spacc of desi re and loca tes this space in a nd surrnund ing the apa rtm ent
of Do ro rh y Vallens (Isabell a Rossel li ni ). Thc fundamental di vide in the
film is t h ll ~ 111'1, , I ~ is oftc n tho ugh t. hl' l w~'t' n t\~ p rorc r public wo rl d
ami i h l l lllltll.d Iflldl[,idc: rhey are IWfI ~idl'\ IIl l h(' S.II II( lll in. \V hat is
radicall y differcnt is th e space of desirc centered around D orothy's
apartm ent.
The div ide betwee n fantasy and desire in Blue Velvet is at once a di
vide between masculi nity and fc mininity. That i~, the film opposes
mascul ine fan tasy to feminine desire. In this rela tionship, feminine de
sire is a des ire that no ob ject can satisfy, a voie! that threatens to over
whel m both the desir ing subject herself and the men who become
caught w ithin her desi re. Masculine faOlasy provides respite insafar as
it imagin es a scenario in which th is desire has an identifiable ohject.
The fi lm depic ts the strugg le between these two positions, and in the
process it reveals the inabi lity offaOlasy to tame completely the disrup
tion of desi re.
Most femini st criticisms of the film focus on the seemingly complete
male dominance that it d epicts. F or instance, Jane Shattuc claims, "As
opposed to H itchcock's melodramas, wh ich often ceOler on a ,""oman,
Blue Velvet is a man's world; it trades on wom en as passive objects of
male voye uristic gazes and sadi stic impulses."9 This interpretation ac
cepts tb e COmpellng ran tasies as the sole film ic rcal ity. Though the ideal
and the nightmare faOlasy a ppear to dominate the film (and beco m e lhe
foClls of mos{ inter preta ons), D oroth y in fact occupies the central posi
ti on. And sbe is nm simply central as the object ove r which m en fight.
She desircs, and rhc men ~ue left in t he position of reacting ro this de
.. ir~', lI\,:vcr an ing ind cpendently.
Unleoshed Desire
The ir.kalized fan t:lsy wo rld t hat opens the film lasts for less than two
minutes. Afte r a seri es ofbright faOlasmatic images including roses in
front of a whitc pi cket fe nce, a fireman wav ing from a passing engine,
and a crossing guard helping chi ldren across the street, Lynch dericts
Jeffrey 's father Tom BeaUIDont (Jack H arvey) wa tering the lawn. The
image of the father figure watering the lawn is not simply one in the se
ries of idealized images but the key one. The father holds rogether and
anchors m e other idealized images.
The father w ho collapscs in this scene is nOl a figure of pro hibitian,
a paternal authority ba rring sub jec ts access tll e n jny lTI~ 1I1. 1 re is a good
fath er w ho enables raler than rcslri CI\ Ihr ~ 11 [, in 1\ ( '11 jn)'rncnt; he cre
ates a stablc rclationship to t1H' ill lpm~dll,. ",1\ d, fin I nhlcct. Wb ar's
94 1'I1r , MPOSSIB t f OAV I O I VNC II
more, he acts as the support for the enti re fa ntasy structure ev ,inced by
the brigh l and cheery montage th at opcns the film. Because he plays the
crucial role in the idea l fanrasy, his colia pse necessa rily appcars as a dev
asta ting eve nt. Fredric Jam eson clai ms that the film treats Tom Beau
m on t's stroke as "an incomprehens ibl e catastrophe-an act of God
w hich is peculiarly an Jct of scandalous vi olence within this perfect
Am erican small tOWII ." '" The nonsensical, trauma tic status of thi s event
stcm s from the idealized father's role in the fantasy. \Vithout him, the
fantasy loses its a ppearance of sea mlessness.
Immed ia tely after Tom Bea umo nt's coLlapse , the tone ofthe film un
dergocs a dram atic change. As he lies on the ground, hi s hand coOlin
ues to hold the ga rden hose, and we see slow-motion shots of the pet
dog repeatedl y ~n apping at the jetting stream of water. The subsequent
trave!ing shot at rhe leve! of rh e grass rc vea ls the violent and acti ve in
sen Jife that lies beneatJl lhe surface of the la w n, as the audio track
turns louder aod mo re voracious. T he seq uence of shots here-as is al
most al ways ch e C:lse in Blue Velvet-ill ustrates the rela tionship be
lwee n the ideal izcd Worl d of L Ulnberton and its obseene und erside rep
resented by tbe in sects. Tom Bcau monr )~ collapse from a stroke creates
an open ing between the idea li zed world and its undersi de w here Frank
Boo th dom inares. Whercas lhe stabJ c fathe r fig ure keeps this underside
hi ddcn, his frai lty renders ir aecessible. Bu t d espite the foc us of most
spectators an d cri ties. w hat is most importan t is not th is underside but
the opcning lO it.
T he sequencc of seenes tbat foIlo w ~dso indicare the rel ationship be
twecn paternal insuffic ie ncy ano the emergcnce of an opening ro an
other world. After t his unnerv ing stan, we see Jeffrey wa lking to the
hospital ro visit h is fath er. He walks th ro ugh nn abandoneu lot and
pi cks up a few rocks tO throw. This scen e is im portant only insofar as it
sets up the nex t tW(). Jeffrey sees hi s fathe r in the hospital, and we see a
look of horror on his fa ce as he observes hi s father 's d ebilitated co ndi
lion, After the scene al rhe hos pital, Jeffrey again walks rhrough the
same lot ane! again picks up a few rocks to th mw. Th is time, however,
while searc hing for rocks, he finds a detachcd hu ma n ear.
The ract that the hospital scene inkr\ent:!> betwee n the tw o scenes at
the abandoned IOl suggests a causal rda l iOIl~hi p hctwedl Jeffrey's cxpe
rience ~It thl' hospital and wha t he find s dllring Iht ~c:c on d sccoe a t the
loto Tlll' ; d '~llIn .. 1 r11( ra rhcr wilh in ti \!' fa lll :I'>Y ~I f\!l' ll lrl' a lll)w ~ fi)r rhe
1111 Vrt 'In Q'j
intrduction of desire. 11 View i.ng the incapacity of the father allows Jef
frey to see the ear, w hich m a rks an opening within the fantas)' world f
Lumberton. As Lynch himself points out, the spccific hdy part that
Jcffrcy finds is not simply a contingent element in the scene. He says, "It
hao to be an ear hccause it's an opening. An ear is wide and, as it nar
rows, you can go dO\vn into it. A nd it goes somewhe re vasl." i2 The
opening that. the ear provides in the fi lm is the opening of desire itself.
It represents a gap in the fantasy structure that allows the desire fboth
Jeffrey and the spcctator to emerge.
In addition to thc opening inherent in the very form of an ear,
Lynch associates this particular ear with castration and thus with the
emergence of desire. Smeone has used scissors to cut the ear off
the head of:l person, and when thc medical examiner pronounces the
\vord "scissors," Lynch cuts back to the abandoned lot where we see a
dose-up of scissors cutting the police ta pe. This filmic emphasis on the
act of clltting [urther links the ear to the eme rge nce of dcsire. The cut
of castration-or the castration threat-gi ves bir th to desirc by separat
ing the subject from its priv ilcged object. It has nothing to do w itb
anatomy but with the subjection of the subject to the exigencies of the
social law. The ea r thus acts as a th reat to Jeffrey, a warning about the
da ngers of too much en joyrn cnt (w hich De tective W illiams [Geo rge
Dickerson] repeats to Jeffrey), but at the same time it incites his desire
hecause of the opening th;lt it creates.
After Jeffrey's discove ry ofthe detached ear, the film 's for m under
goes transformation. Though the fantasy world of Lumbenon re ma ins,
it loses its per fect coherence a no poc kets ()f desi re becme ev ide nt
w itbin this wor/d . The evening of his discovery, we see leffrey wa lking
in the dark to visit Detective W illiams, an d rhen Lynch cuts to a dose
up of the ear in w hi ch th e camera moves r.o ward a nd appa rentl y into
th e ear. The camera movem ent here indicates that Jeffrey h imself is
plunging into the openness of desire. When Jeffrey lea ves D etective
Williams's house, Sandy (L aura Dern) confronts h im, ancl it seem s as if
she emerges out of a voie! of compl ete blacknes$ in th e micldle of the
image. This is another of the openings tha t begin to populatc the fan
tasy wor/d of Lu m berton after the colbpse /11' 1he fll!llt'r Figure at the
beginning of m e fi lm. As they begi n lo 'i ~L \I ~' d lc II ly~tc r y \)( rhe ea r
amI of Doroth y Vallens, Jeffrcy :lnd S .III d y \\' dI: dil\\ 11 . \ ,1 I n: l' tha l has
th e appea ra ncc of a tul1llc1 or ;ln " p t'l lI lIr 111 .11111 1 1.ldt. 1 ,dlllr. A ~ Jan et
91> TH~ I M POSS IOll DA VID I VNC II
Prestan notes, tunnel imagery domi nares the film , but it becomes espe
ciall y prevalent as th e film 's na rra tive ap proac hes and enters Do roth y
Vallens's apartment. She says, "The inte rio r of the clecaying apa rtm ent
bl,l ilding on Lincoln Street in whicb the victim protagonist, Dorothy
Vallens, lives is th e m os- significant tunnel image. It . .. Iluminates the
lheme of initiation i.nto k110wledgc w h ich cohe res much of the film's
imagery."13 T hough P reston correcdy sees D oroth y's apartment as the
cul mina tion of the film 's tunnel image ry, a site w here openness and
ga ps exi st throughou l me filmic space, ir does, in itsel f, provide no
knowledge for Jeffrey. In fact, Doroth y's a panm ent marks a point of
Jeffrey's non-k no wledge, a ncl th is is w h;lt nas the effect of stimulating
his dcsire.
The non- k no wled ge, or im possibili ty of m eani ng , is epirmi zed by
the mi se-en-sc~nc of Doroth y's a partment afld the surrounding area.
Whe reas Ly nch depicts both th e Lumbe rton public world a nd the un
derworl d as colorful and full, Do rothy's apartm ent is a world of em pty
spaces and d a rk voids, a world bereft of the fllllness that fantasy adds .
When Jeffre y en tCrs Do rothy's a pa rtment usi ng a stolen key, Lynch
shoots the scene wi rh very link lig h t. lnitially, rhe screen goes corn
ple tcly black as Jeffrey cnters, a nd then we see Jeffrey walking aro u.nd
in t he apartment in near-tota l da rk ness. Even after Do rorn y re tu rns
hom e and tu rns 00 the apa rtme n t g hts, the lig hting in the scene re
mains dim , leaving cl a rk spaces witbin he mise-en-scene. Just befare
she discovers Je ffrey hiding in her dosel, D ororny moves into one of
these cla rk spaces: we know she is in rhe a pa rlment, but she appears to
be in (h e m id d le of a void .J4 T hi s type o [ lighring sl,lggests a world of
desi re w he re nthing can be known. Even th e ex termll shots of the
apar tment hig hlight our lac k (lf k now lcdge about it thro ugh the use of
lig h ting , We lea ro tha r D oroth y lives on the sev enth Aoo r, and yel in the
firs t ex terna l shot o f th e apa rtm ent, t he apartment appea rs to havc o nly
th ree Aoors. We see th e first thrce Aoo rs and nothing but darkness
above th em. The ligh tin g produces an apartmem that is present as a
visible absence.
Ly nch constr ucts a rigid barrie r be tween the wo rld of desire w ithi n
Doroth y's apartm ent and m e fantasy wo rl Js ou tside. One cannot easil y
access th is a pa nment: since the elevalOr is nU l (lf o rd e r, it requ ires tra
ve rsj ng WH' II ll ight sofst:1 irs. Lync h f l,l rt her il1 di cali:~ 1he ti fferent worl d
of ,ht Ipanl l l' 111 h" l, lIlgi ng che sClllnd \VIII' II kn , ~,y ;t pp roach cs ir-
I;L ll t v/l vrr VI
sometimes cven eliminating nondiegetic sound allogelher. W ithio the
diegesis, a simila r sou nd ba rrier ex ists: D oroth y catches Jeffrey in her
doset because a ftushing toilet prevents him from hea ring Sandy honk
the car horn four times to warn him . Though it seems as if a contingent
event-the toilet ftushing-block s the passage of the sound, it foltows
necessarily from the barrier that Lynch establishes in the film . Dorothy's
apartment is an isolated space in w hich fanta sy breaks down and ceases
to provide the explanations that g iv e the world its coherence.
Blue Velvet reverses the trajectory, moving from a world of desire to
a world offantasy that Lynch employs in his ti rsr three films . Here, the
film initialty imm erses the spectator in rhe fantasy and subscquently
depicts a space of desire w ithin the fantasy world. This reversal of
trajectry-w hich L ynch would repeat in Mulholland Drlve (2001)
iltustrates that the relationship between desire and fantasy is dialectical
rather than temporal . Eve n though fantasy attempts to solve the prob
lem of desirc, this solution emerges simultancousl y with the problem,
not afterward. Neither desire's question nor fantasy's answer has a tem
poral priority, wh ich is why L yoch can begin Blue Velvet w ith a worle!
of fantasy and later thrust the spectator into a world of desire w heo he
introduces Dorothy's apartment.
To 5ay that the one site in Blue Velvet w here fantasy ccases to operate
is Dorothy's apartmeot seems counterintu itive. If a critical consensus
exists about any aspect of the fil m, it coocerns the fantasm atic nature
of th e scene in w h ich Jeffrey observes F mnk's sexual assault on Doro
thy. Michcl C hion poines out that " the k ind of fantasy on di splay"
here is ooe that reenacts "the surrealisti c sex ual theories of child ren ." '5
Echoing Chion, Betsy Berry is one of many critics w ho specifies this as
"the primal scene," which is "both man's and child 's most terrifying
scenario: the vision of violent coupling between one's parents.", 6 Sam
Ishii-G onzales goes even further, noting,
This episode not on\y spectacularly cvokes the primal scene, it also
conjures up the two other fantasy scenarios identified by Freud as
the primal fantasies-namel y, the fantasy of seduction and the fan
tasy of castration. T hese fantasies are not ime rchangcable, but they
often become intcrrelated or co-existt: 111 [n r rhe inq uisiti ve sub ject.
This is something; Rlue Ve/vd ll1 ah~ d ralll.1l n .dly , k a!. W ithin the
confi nes of D orotby\ livill~ Sl'alT, 1111 rt'V li, ,lIlIlI tl lI l , ronfrontcd
9~ TII' IM~ 05S IIlI r OAV l r) I.n~C If
with each of the primal fan tas ics in all thcir enigm atic force; not in
strict succession, but in continuou s ftuc tuation. ' 7
Th c problem with this otherwise exem pla ry anaJysis of this scene-and
the others that see fa ntasy at wo rk he re-is that it w roogly idcoti fie s
the attempt to coostruct a fantas)' scenario with the successful elabora
tion of ooe.
W ithin D orothy's apartment, both le ffrey and Frank Booth con
front her desire, and cach fails , despite their efforts, to fantasi ze a way
of making that desirc meaningful. The fil m ceoters around Dorothy's
desire and her status as a desiring subject; the responses to thi s d esire
remain seconda ry and after the fact. Throughou t Blue Ve/vet, it is com
pletel y undear \-"hat Dorothy desires, or if she desires anything at all.
As Jeffrey tells Sandy after his encou nter w ith Dorothy's desire, she
seem s to desire nothing. H e says, " 1 think she wants to die. I think
F raok cut the ear 1 found off her husband as a warning for her to stay
ali ve." As Lyoch depicts it in the fi lm, Dorothy's d esire is apure desire:
it desi res noth iog, and it re fuses ro satis fy itself with any pathological
object. T oe ve ry p urity of Do rothy's desire-her unwi llingness lO ac
cept an y fantasm atic suhstitutes, her refusal of ever), satisfaction- rnay
lead us to thi n k that she has no des ire at al!. BUI p ure desi re is in sorne
se nse equiva lent to the com plete absence of desire. In both cases, th e
subject experiences every possihle object as in herently u nsatisfying.
As the em bod ime nt of dcsire, D o roth y draws m en to her. T hey want
to d iscove r lhe secret ofhcr desire, wha t it is that she w an ts, and the fact
that she wa ots nothing, tha t nothing can satisfy her, com pels them all
the more. At the samc time, soe rh reatens the men th at pursue her be
cause she reveals the void upon w hich all subjectiv ity is based. As
]acques-Alain Mi ller notes, bccau se of her relatiooship to nothingness,
HA true woma n .. . reveals to m an the absurdity ofhaving. To a certain
extent, she is man's ruination.", R
This rui nation becomes eviJen t in Jeffrey's response to Dorothy.
W hen Doroth y discovers ]effrey in her doset and con fronts him, she
tinds hjm in a state of desi re. She as ks , "What are you doing in my
apartment, effrey Beaumont ?" and "Whal do you wlnt?" Bu t ]effrey
i~ u nable to answe r, saying onl y, "1 don't know." Late r, after F rank's
sexua l aSS<l lIl l no Dorolhy, shc ask s h im again, "What do yo u want?"
This lim\,. kl( y rl"Sponds, "Noth ing. " Each of these resp() nses indi
~IIJ E VfLv n 99
cates that at chis moment-w hile he is in Dorothy's apartment
Jeffrey's desire lacks a fantasy frame through w hich it might ohtain
some direction. T o say "1 don't know" or "N othing" in response to the
q uestion "What do you wan t ?" is not (necessariJy) to lie or to procbim
thar one does not d esire at aH. It is ra ther the way in which one asserts
oncself as a dcsiring subject in the purcst pos sihle formo The desiring
su bject doesn't know what it wants beca use iL wants nothing-the im
possible objcct that cxis ts on ly insofar as it remains inaccessible. This is
why the anorex ic who literaH y eats the nothi ng is in sorne sense the
pure subject of d esire. The subject who can na m e what it wants has ac
ccpted a fan ta smatic substitutc for thi s n othing. At this moment in the
film, Je ffrey experiences desire w ithout the surrounding narrativc that
would dumesticate it, and he occupies this position beca use he encoun
ters Oorothy and her desire. And rather than ex perience desire in this
way without rh e s<.'c urity of a fantasy frame, he asks Dorothy to a\low
him to lea ve.
The absence of any c1ear direction for Oorothy's Jesire becurnes ap
pa rent in her behavio r towa rd Jeffre y. E ven Ourothy hersclf has no
id ea wha t sh e wa nts, anJ as a result, she d oes con tradictory things. She
holds a knife on Je ffrey a nd thrcatens to kiH him, and yet she forces him
to undrcss and performs fella tio on him. She says to hirn, "Oo n't touch
m e, o r 1'11 ki li yuu. D o you like it w hen 1 ta1 k 1ike thar? " T hrou ghou t
this and a later sexual encounter with Jc ffrey, O oroth y see ms to be
performing--often acti ng like F rank acts towa rd hcr. She performs
bccause she doesn 't know what she WJms, and t he performance lea ves
upen the question of wh at Dorothy actu aJly desires.
Ont m ight sa y, of course, th at O orothy's perfo rmance with Jeffrey
occurs in respon se lO F rank's a buse, that she plays the typical rol e ofthe
vic tim acting out the vi olence that has been done ro her. Bu t such a
reading te1ls us m ore about the subject who p rod uces it than about
D orothy. It posits suprem e agency in male agg ression rather than in fe
m a1e desi re, ~ h ich leaves ir unab1e to exp1 ain Frank's behavior toward
O orothy. Something a bout Doro thy c1early distu rhs Fra n k, which is
why he goes to such elaborate leng ths to perform in front of her.
F rom the momenl F rank e nters Do roth y's apa rtment, he appears to
be staging a fH n tasm ati c scena rio, actin~ 0111 ; d r~tt n<1 f~ I r w hich the onl y
audience (lO b is kn owlcdgc) is Do ro! hy 111 r\! 11 1. t1'l'h ; ,~i z in g lhe pe r
formati ve aspccl nI' Fran k \ \)(' 11.1 \ \1" , r..t'idll ' ( 1111111 "'Il tcn ds tha t
11111 1111 I M !'I';l', ~ I[l11 I l~V l n 1\ ," 11
"F rank behaves as if he were the :lctor in a show designecJ to move the
wo man sexuaJl y. His way of repea ting certain se ntences may be .che out
pourings of a rnaniac, bm m ight ir nor also be che mechanica1 repetition
of a panicular sen rence d esignecJ lO excite her ?"19 Even if Frank does
nor aim to excite her in a typi cal way, he does c1 early aim to arouse her
an d ro give a directio n to her desire. By doing so, he hopes to avoid
what M il ler calls the ruination thar she portends for him as a male sub
ject. As Ch ion says, F ran k attempts to prevent Dorotny "fmm becom
ing depressed a nd slipping into the void ... by bca ting he r, kiclnapping
her chil cJ and husba nd anJ then cutting off the man's ear." 20 In this
1ight, we can see all of F rank 's extreme behavi or in the film as an effort
to dom esticate the d esire t har Dorothy embodi es.
W hil e he remHins within Dorothy 's apa rtment, howev er, Frank's at
tem pt to translate Oo roth y's desire into his fantasy structure comes up
short. C learly, Frank domina res Do ro thy physically, hut he never sol ves
the problem o fher desire or succeeJ s in locating her w ithin his fantasy
~ cc n a rio. From her nrst telephone con ve rsatio n with him, Oorothy
continuall y fa ils ro enact the fanlasy p roperl y; her d esire intervenes and
dis ru pts the na rra ti ve that Frank attempts ro cstablish. On the tel e
phon e, shc c:tlls h irn " F rHnk," and F ra nk cor rects her, saying that she
mustadd ress h im as "sir." When FrH nk arri ves at the apa rt ment, D oro
thy makcs a sim ila r m ista ke. She says, "Hel io, baby." Frank responcJs,
"ShUl up. Ir's dadcly, you shi thcHeI. " T hese slip-ups reveaJ Do rothy's
d iffi cu lty w ith rhe famasy structure th at F rank lays out fo r her. She
can 't perform hc r role correctly beca use F ra nk 's fantasy c.an't success
fu lly loca te her desire. She rema ins a disr upti vc force that he striv es to
domestica te.
The status of Dorothy's dcsi re completd y change s when she lea ves
be r apartment ami appears in the fa ntasm aric underworld that Frank
domi nates. Her dcsi rc becornes cl ea r: she wa nts to care for her son, to
be a proper mothe r. Ma te rni ty, as a sym bolic role, represents a retreat
from desire beca use it fill s in thi s desire's fundamental absence with a
discernible objecl. As Mi lle r paints ou t, "The truth in a woman, in
Lacan 's sense, is rneasurcd by her subjective d istance from the position
of mothcrhood . Tu be a mocher, lhe mother of one's children, is to
choosc to ex isr as Woman ."'I T hat is to say, tak ing up the symholic po
silion of mother represents an aban d onmc nt o f one ':; desire. ~Then
OOfl")thy evinces maternal co nce rn for hc r son, she indicates that shc
tUf VfLVfT 101
has left the terrain of pu re des ire anJ entered the "vnrld of fant ;1s)'. As a
mother, she is on male turf: the image of me maternal plenitud e is a
m ale fantas)'. By kidnapping her son and prompting Dorothy into the
position of rhe protective mother, F rank creates a fantasy sccna rio in
which Dorothy's destre ceases to be trauma tic for him. 22
Fantasmatic Fathers
What m e iJealized public worl J of the film and its nightm arish unJer
side share is a father figure that provides support for th e fanrasy struc
turcoThe coherence ofthis structure depends on the activity of the father,
which is why the collapse ofTom Beau mont at the beginning of the film
has such dramatic effects. Within fan tas )', the father exists in orJer to do
mesticate feminine desire and provide a Jirection for it. He na mes this
desire and thus works ro eliminate its resistance ro signification.
In rhis sensc, F rank's violence is an attempt ro arouse D orothy's
desire-ro motivate her to desire something rather than nothing. Like
Jeffrey and like the spectator, Fra nk experiences th e tra uma of an en
counter w ith Dorothy's gaze an d m e horror of her desire, and he uses
violence in ord er to provide a solution to this trauma tic desire. This is
why the spec ta tor can fin d sorne degree of pleasure in the cha racter of
Frank , despite his disturbing violencc. Frank is a fantasy figure and of
fers relicf from Dorothy's ck sire through the fan tasy scena rio that he
stages for her. Even his sexual assau lt on her-the fil m's most fam ous
sccne-wor ks to mitigate the trauma of Dorothy's desire by g iving it
direction and forcing ber ro m ake d ear wha t she wa nts.
After witnessing F ran k's assault on Dorothy, Jeffrey rcturns ro Do r
omy's apartment on a later nigh t an d has sex with her. Ly nch film s m is
sex act in a way that indicates its traum atic status. Before they have sex,
he asks her, "What do you want? " She replies, "I wa nt you to hurt me."
Though Jeffrey initiall y refuscs, telling Do rothy, "No. 1 want ro hel p
you," he ends up striking her. Wh en he does, the scree n turns white.
After the white screen, we see a d istorted shot of Jeffrey and Dorothy
ha ving sex in slow motion. This depiction of their sexual act registe rs
how disturbing D orothy's des ire is for Jeffrcy. It not onl y d isturbs Jef
frey ano pushes h im into uncharactc ristic vioknn', hll t il :lIso disr upts
the filmic representation itsel f. Ly nch can ll'" lilll\ Ihi, ~( 1'Il\: in the typi
cal way beca use ir unhingcs the -eld ,,1 1' I " "1 I\llt lllll il \d C. Do roth y's
102 THf IMPO SSI61 E DAV ID IYN' 11
des ire for nothing res ists all <1t tempts--bnth Jeffrey 's and the film 's-to
signify ilo Ir produces the failurc implicit in Jcffrey's violcnce and the
failure of represen tation cmbod ied by the wh ite screen.
Seeing the traum a attacheo to Jeffrey's encounter with Dorothy's de
sire in this scene allows l15 to understand rhe role rhat Jeffrey's subsc
quen t joy rid e with Frank pla ys in h is psychic ecol1omy. Jeffrey runs
into Frank and his gang as he i5 leaving Dorothy's apartm ent, and
F rank forces ]cffrey ro acco mpany them on a joyride that almost results
in Jeffrey's death . Frank ex poses Jeffrey to a viol ent and sa d isric under
world in which P ran k is the sole fig ure of authority. W hen Jeffrey de
hes this authority and pu nches Frank (for hitting Dorothy) , Fra nk
rhreaten s to kill h im and nearly beats him to dcath . D uring this beat
ing, a bond between Fra nk and Jeffrey emerges. Ea rlier, Frank teUs
Jeffrey, "You're like me," and befo re beating him, F ran k srn ea rs lip
stick al! arouncl his lips and ki sses Jeffrey. T he bond berween them is
the ie sharcd retrea r fr om Dorothy's desire. E ven though his nigh t wi th
Frank nearly leads ro his death, it actual ly provicles reli ef foc effrey af
te r hi s encounter with Dorolhy's desi re. T he ch rooology of the fil m :tI
m Ost seems to suggcst that Ieffrey fantasizes th e encou nter w ith Fran.k
and the abuse that results in ord er tu find respite from Dorothy. Far
better to be beatcn by Frank rh an to face the trauma of Dorothy's un
sign ifiable desire. Even if F ran k ho rr ifies us as spectators, he nonethe
less provides a horror that m akes sense.
The bond between Jeffrey and F rank is a homosocial one, and th e
fil m sugge:sts th at this powerfu l bond devd ops in response to rhe trauma
of female des ire. T he viole nt nature of hom osoc ial bon d ing- the fr a
ternity haz ing rituals, the h um iliati on of outside rs, and so on-docs not
d erive simply from an excess of tcstoste rone. This violence has a clear
l1leaning: it ass ures th e subj ecrs pa rticipating in it tha t a powe r ex ists
with the abil ity to conta in the desire for nothing (the desire rhat we see
in Dorothy). T he abyss of this des ire th reatens to swal!ow men up, but
homosocial violence implic itly promises to control it. Even th e victims
of homosocial violence gain th is assurancc, which is why they are ofi:en
as attached to masculi nity as the most aggressive meno
Frank also prov idcs relicf for Jeffrey nsofa r as he occu pies the posi
tioo of paternal aurhority. Unlike lhe oth er farh ers in th e film . F rank,
desp ite his secm ing comrnitm ent to unres lrain ed enj OYOlC nt, u pholJs
proh ibition and supports the symb()l ic law. Th i~ lX'com cs cv ide nt du r
1I1II r VftVI I 1'"
ing the joyride sequence when F rank stops at Ben's to discuss his drug
dealings and a110w Dorothy to see her son . Hcre, despite loud ly pro
claiming "1'11 fuck anything that moves," Frank also enforces codes of
civility. When Frank toasts Ben (Dean Stockwel l), Jeffrey doesn't 5ay
anything. We then see Frank walk aver to }cffrey, punch him in the
midsection, and sa y, " Be politel " Though this command appears wildly
incongruous in the mouth ofFrank given what we have just secn him
do, it fas with the idea of him as a figure of paternal authority. And as
the sole effective paternal figu re in the film, his presencc offers assur
ance to Jeffrey that Dorothy can be contained.
Frank equally reassures the spectator watching lhe film . Even
though he is clearly an evil character (a ki11er, a drug dealer, a sexual
preclatar, a kidnapper, even a drunk dri ver), F rank remains a thor
oughly pacifying figure on the screen. Dennis H opper's performance as
Frank accentuatcs his hu morous qualities even when perpetuating vio
lence. For instan ce, when he kid naps Jeffrey and forces him to go to
Ben's, he does so through wo rdplay reminiscent of Abbott and Costel
10'5 "Who's on first?" routine. Lynch also uses music to diffuse ra ther
than enbance th e threat that Fra nk rcpresents. Typicall y, film s associate
vi11ains with ha unting music. The song we associate wirh F rank-and
that plays as he beats up Jeffrey the night of the joyride-is Roy O rbi
son's "In Dream s," a song that defies an association with vi llain y. F rank
attcmpts to disto rt the mea ning of the song: we see h im in a close-u p
telli ng Jeffrey, "in dreams, you' re mine," implying th at he will haunt
Jeffrey like a nightm are. But the ve ry soft and mcl odious nat ure of the
Orbison song be1 ies this threat ancl , along w ith the lipstick sm earecl on
Frank's face, renders it lcss intim idating. Lynch's de picti on of Fra nk
the night of the joy ride and throug hout the film em phasizes that he
23
functions as a figure of psychic relief rather th an t rau ma.
Jeffrey's fl ashbacks the next morning confirm that Dorothy repre
sents the real trauma for him. not Frank . Rather than dreaming about
his horrific beating at Frank's hands and his near death , Jeffrey remains
fixated on Dorotb)', seein g her in a fla shback sa)'ing "Hi t m e" and see
ing himself hit her in response. Dorothy is a trauma tic obj ect-cause of
desire precise!y because no one can fantasi ze away he r J esire and she
seems to desire nothing. Tt is against this ba ckgT()\lnd oC Dnroth y's de
si re for nothi ng-or th e noth ingness of Dllrll ' h ~ -., dl',in' ,h:l t the dc
sirefo}" her emerges. As an im po~sihk IIhl' ~ t, II 1 Ol'lt'l p l'lil (1, Du rothy
104 THr IMI' OSS IRl t D AVI D lVN C '1
represents a far greater threat to Jdfrey than the father figure. Frank
can merely kill him, but Doroth y can forc e him to confronr his desire.
Both the idea l father and the ni gh tm are fa the r are fantasy construc
tions wh o work to ta me the im possible objcct-cause of clesirc. Even
though these paternal figures do violence to the subject ancl represent a
barrier to the subject's enjo)'ment, th ey nonetheJess provide a sen se of re
li ef. W ithou t the father, the fantasizing su bjeet experiences the unbear
able wcight of the impossible object intrude into its fa n tasy screen, caus
ing the very structure of the fa ntas)' to disintegrate. This is precisel)' what
occurs when Dorothy enters the ideali zed fantasy world-a world
where the father has become incapacita ted- near the end of the film.
Fa ntasy and t he Trau matic Encounter
T he function of fantas)' is to rend er the imposs ible object accessiblc for
the subject. In doing so, fanta sy provides a way for the subject to enjoy
itse lf that would be u nthi nka ble outside of fantasy. H o wever, rhe act of
mak ing the impossible objcct accessible for the subj ect involves a dan
ge r. This obj ect remains pleasu rable only jnsofar as it rem ains absem
and impossibl e. An actual enco unter dislocates th e entire sym bolic
strucrure in w hich th e subj ect ex ists. T hu s, most fa ntasies are very ca re
fu I abo ut the kind of access they offer to the impossible obj ect.
F antasies di sta n the obj ect by never all owing il to appear in a pure
fo r m oWe see an im age ma sk ing the obj ect, not the obj ect itsel f. O r we
see this object indirectly-as ir d isappears or moves away. The d istor
tion of the obj ect in the fantasy is the resu ll of a failure to play out futi)'
the logic of fantasy. When full)' dcve1 oped , th e log ic of fantasy leads to
an cncounter with the object in its real, traumatic dimensi on, but most
fan tasics neve r go this far. T hc separation of lhe worlds of clcsire and
fa ntasy in BIt/e Ve/ve! allo ws Lynch to avoid this failure that plagues
most films. The film displays the fantasy in its entirety, and thus we ex
per ience a direct encounter with the im possible object. 24
T he ideologicaJ function of cinem a depencls on tbe limited access it
provides to this obj ect. Fi lms provide a hint of en joyrnent rh rough the
fantasy scenarios tbey d eploy, but not too much oT hey remain pl easur
able rather than hccoming authl:nti cally enj oyn bJ e a nd tb us threaten
ing. Tht: p lt:a~ lI n' Jcpends on an ahbn:vi" tI:d dcploym ent o f fantasy,
om: that cll d~ 1.. 1,, '1' It re: lc: hes its tra ll l1l;til' J1llill l. Bu t the tra u ma is [he
li l U I! Vl l VfT In' ,
key to the enj oym ent that fantasy offers: when films avoid trauma, they
avoid enj oy ment. L ynch gives both by continuing th e fanta sy w here
other fil ms stop. If it we re rhe typical film, Blue Velvet would end when
Jeffrey and Sandy proelaim their love fm each other while dancing at a
party. But just after this scene, Ly nch unl eas hes a traumatic encounter
w ith the impossible object.
Dorothy, her body naked and beaten, appears in the fantasmatic
ideal world of Lumberton. This scene begins with Sandy's former boy
friend Mik e chasing Jeffrey ane! Sa ndy through the Lumberton streets
with his caroLynch shoots this chase so as to create a sense of dange r: we
see the p u rs uing car onl)' in a series of long shots that don't allow us to
see who's driving. W hen Jeffrey assumes thar Frank is in the car, the
film encourages us ro agree wi th him. A fter Sand)' recognizes Mike
dri ving, we experience the same rdicf that Jeffrey and Sandy do. Ten
sion persists as they stop in fron t 00effrey 's house as Mike prepares to
fight Jeffrey for stealin g Sandy from him , but M ike does not represent
a threat like Frank . We are thus un prepa red, lik e the characters in the
film, for "vhat happens next.
W h ile Mike is in th e p rocess of con fronting leffr ey, Dorothy gradu
all y en te rs in to the ba ck lc::ft side of the image. She seems to appear out
of thin air, appearin g at nrst as an indecipherable bl ot that no one
in cl ud in g the srecta to r- initiall y notices. W hen the other ch aracters
do noti cc, thcy beco m e com pletel y diso riented . H cr intrusi on into the
fan tasm atic rea lm rips apart th e fama sy structure. M ike abandons any
notion of figh ting w ith leffrey and begins to de pa rt. Bu t to lessen the
traum a of Dorothy's ap pearan ce, he adds, "W ho's th at, huh? Is that
your mother r " 0 0 t he one hand. Mike's comment see ms to support the
reading of rhe film that id entifies Dorothy with m aternity, but on the
oth er, it attests ro the bntasmatic role that rhe irnage of Dorothy as
mother plays. T hat thi s wo uld be Mik e's fi rst nss umption w hen he sees
her walk ing th rough the yard naked anJ beaten suggests that he is re
spondi ng w ith w hat immediately comes tu mind-i.e., w ith his uncoo
scious fant<1sy. Mike's comm ent says m ore about him as a character than
it docs abour Dorothy and her actua l status io th e fi lm.
The threar of the ng ht suddenly seem s absurdl y illSign iricant in com
pari son w ith the traum a orDoroth}'\ h"d ) . J lc' [ hliol ), J I ~ I 11I place w ith in
the fan tasrna tic public w orlcl , and d J(: [, lIH 1\\ " l . (ill \lI.. I I.. ~ dnwn. T he
for m in w hi ch J)oroth y ;lP(1I:';1" 1'1T1,11I;ly l'I~d lill ol l"'ggi llg ( Ir ItJ
10/, Hll I M ~O~~ IIIII 11A V ln I YI' i: 1I
[rey's belp--reveaJs the spectato r's investment in the fantasy and de
m ands rhat lhe spectato rconf ron t he r qua im possible object. She doesn't
fi t in the picture, w hich is why we becom e so uncomforta ble watching
her naked bady in the mid dle ohbe suburban neighborhood. When Jef
frey and Sandy take D oroth y into San dy 's ho use, Do rothy cLings to Jef
frey and repeats, " He put his disease in m e." D o rorhy's presence is un
bea rabl e both for characters in lhe film-Sandy begins to cry, and her
m other retrieves a coat to cover Doro thy- a nd for the spectaror.
Here the realm of d esire interscc ts w irh thar of famas)', forcing an
en counter w ith the real dimel1sio n of the imposs ibl e object without ilts
imaginary g uise. The fantas)' structu re of Lumberton 's ideal ized world
can only maintain its consistency as long as it exeludes desire . Hence,
wh en D orotby's desire intru des into th is structure, she shatters it and at
th e same tim e sha lters th e specta tor 's d ista nce from what's happening.
As a fo reign body in this mise-en-sd: ne, Dorothy cmbod ies the gaze,
a nd our anxiery in seeing her indicates our en counte r with ir, revealing
that We are in lhe picture ae ts nonspec ul ar poinr, the roiot of rbe gaze.
F or L aca n, "Tlle obj et a in thefield ofthe visible tIJe gaze."2 5 That is, rhe
gazc is rhe impossi ble object- not a ~ ub jecti ve look but the point at
w h ich the obj ect m a rk s tht:. subject's desire. T he gaze inelu des the sub
ject's desire w ithn the visual fi eld aS'an imposs ible poin t irreducible to
thal neld o As this scene illu strates, in the fo rm of the ga ze the ob ject
looks back at uso O u r des ire becomes embodied in the traurn arie poi nt
of Dorothy's body on tll e screen. Blue Ve/ve! uses a strict sepa ration of
desLre and fan tasy in arder t depict the tra wnaric poi n t of their inter
section. T h<.: fi lm show $ thar by imm t:.rsing ou rselves in fa ntasy w ith out
the securiry o f the fathe r, we can cncounter the im possi ble object. And
it is rJl ro ugh mi s encounter thn t we cn joy.
A Utopia Without Disavowal
The film condudes w ith what seems like rhe resto ration of the ideal
ized [antasy, now clea nsed ofboth its nigh tm arc undersid e and ofDor
otby's desire. At Je ffr ey's house, we see Jeffrey's and Sandy's family in
teracting with each other on a SUDn)' summ er afternoon. leffrey's farher
stanJl> w irh De tec ti ve Wi lliam s in rhe backyarJ, his hea lth now re
stored. jcffrey anJ Sandy are together, w irh he r boyfri end M ike no lon
ge r a narri er to their romance. W hat's rno re, a robin appears on the
HII-IE VELvn 107
winuow ledge, seeming to confirm Sandy's fa n tas matic preuiction that W e mos t ofren rhink of the l urn to fantasy as a berrayal of d es ire , as
the re wiIl be trouble only until the rohins come. The re are, howe ve r, a w ay of compromising on the pu ri ry of d esire. On one level, Blue Vel
noticea ble stains within this iJeali zed imagc . vet confirms this idea through its d e picrion of fantasy as a retreat from
The robin itself, the rep rcse ntative of the ideal, also hints at the con D orothy's implacable desire. Bu r on ano the r leve! , the conclusion of the
tinued cxistence of the und e rs ide as we see it eating a bug. This bug film indicates how a certain mode o f famasizing ca n ta k e desi re in to
serves to reminu us of the o pening sequence, where Tom Beaumo nt's accounr a nu rem a in rrue to ir. By ta.ki ng fam asy ro its limit, by fantasiz
collapse opened up the undervvorld of bug life bcneath the surface of ing absolutely, on e sces d esire ree merge in the famas y. The bug that the
the grass. The idealized fantas)' thus rcveals its failure again, eve n a t the robin ea rs and the sound of "Blue Vd vet" o n the film's a udio track in
point of its apparent success. The limitation of this fantasy becomes the final scene bea r w itn ess to desire's reem crgen ce. F antasy allo ws us
even more ev iJe nt as th e fi lm ends. to rcu iscove r the desire thar it lea ves be hi nd so long as we pe rsist in ir
The fi lm e nds with a final imagc of D orothy that suggests that the seriously enough. Ir is only the ha lfhea rted fanta sy that forsak es desire.
restoration of the father has secured her desire. She n Qw ex ists as a T he absolute comm itment ro fan tasy prod uces th e imp ossible m omenr
mother, with only maternal desires, in the ideahzed fantas )' world of a r wh ich be tra yed desire returns.
Lumberton. The last image of th e film depicts Donnie , freed {rom
Frank 's threat, pbying \-vith his smiling moth er on a bright sunny d ay.
Thc idyllic see.ne offers visual confirma rlon of the clari ty of D ororhy's
d esire, but, as so ofren ha ppe ns in a Lynch film, the audio rrack bclies
the visual image. The lasr wo rds of th e film are D o ro rh y sing ing the
song she ha s sung throug h out the film . We hea r, " A n d 1 srill can sec
blue vel ve t through my rears." Th is line suggests that despite the image
of Dorothy pla ying peacefull y w ith her son, her desire can no r fit com
pletely in to th e ma te rnal role. He re the visual and the auuio tracks are
com pletel y ar odds w ith eacb other, as rhe aud io rrack reca lls Doroth y's
in vo lve m ent w irh F rank. Th is contin ucd d ivision w itJ1n Doroth y's de
sire indicares th a t nei the r alre rn a ti ve is e nti rd y satisfying lO he r. S he ft:

mains a subject d esi ring nothing a nd rhe re by staining tb e deno u eme n r

ofthe film.
In this way, tbe film show s us the limir that fantasy can nor eclipse.
As Blue Ve/vet makes clear, famasy wo rks in two differe nt ways to na r
rare the distur bance rhat desire brin gs ro the symbo lic order, but nei th er
of these ways is fully successful. The ultima re contenrion of the fi lm is
not rha t w e should aba ndo n our famasics-if this were even possibl e-
because rhey al w ays fail. W hat we must do, instead, is pay attention to
those mome nrs at which fantasy fails , not to guard against these mo
ments, in order ro see that [h e enjoyment "ve d er iV' from hmtasy de
pe nd s di rectly on th e moments of t3ilu re. r1 is 111 11 y a l I he ['on t at w h ich
they fail tha r fan tasies a llo\-" liS :K l'(' ~\ 111 ,111 lI r1w r w i,,' in;1cccssible
obj ect.

1011 111:' I M I' O~S I Il I I QI\V IU I Yt~ r. 1I

SLUf VElV ET 109

FIVE The Absence ofDesire in Wild at H eart
Lost in Fantasy
When Wild at Heal't (1990) was re!ea sed on Aug ust 17, 1990, Lynch was
at a high roint of popular ity and critical esteem. Tb e te!evision series
Twin Peaks, created by Lynch with Ma rk F rost, had ju st finished its
successful first-season run (rhe pilot episode h av ing aired as a mid
season replacement on April 8), and crirics an d audit: nces sti ll recallcd
favorably the impn:ssion of Blue Ve/vet (1986), his prev ious fil m . Ae
cording to most erities a nd viewers, Wild al Heart did not reach the per
ceived heights of JJlue Velvet, but neither dicl it fa ll to the depths of
Dune (1984)' Ir won the Pa lme d'Or, the top prize al the C annes Film
Festival, but those \Vho didn't like rhe film tended to fee! that ir went
too far in the direction of excess: where Blue Velvet had an ideal world
that counterbalaneed t.h e violent unde rworld it depiets, Wild at Heart
had only the unJerworld .
The typical Lyneh film, as we have see n, takes The Wiza1"d of Oz
(Victor Fleming, 1939) as its model for enacting a strict separation be
tween the wodd of desire ane! the wo r1d u f Fa ntasy. T hough Wild at
Hea1"t contains mort: ove rt ~lllusions to 7'hl' lh cdrd (1 ni; I h ~1D :my of
Lyneh's othcr films. its structu n:, iron in dly.l l.I " I l"~ 111 " " 111110 1\ w ith ir
than dot:s lhe rest of Lynch 's WOI k. f1',1d .,1 Ir,,/! ~ 11 1l\\' -",1 tlm (N icnhs
IIU
Cage) and Lula (Laura Dern) tal k ing abou t rhe Yellow Brick Roae! and
going over the rainbow, Lula im agin ing her morher i\farictta (Diane
Lad d ) as the Wicked \-Vitch of th e West, L ula wearing a ve rsion of
Dorothy's ruby slippers, anJ rhe good wi teh G linda (Sheryl Lee) ap
pearing to Sailor in a vision at the en d of the film. J Despite these and
other allusions, Wild at Heal't does not depicr cl ashing ",rorlds of desire
and fantasy that would correspone! to the division bt:rwee n the black
and-white Kansas and th e colorful Oz, bu t immerses us eomplercly in
a world of fantasy.
Wild at Hea1"t is The Wiza1"d ofOz wi thout Ka nsas. For rhis rcason, ir
shol.lld not be surprising th ar a l! the fil m's allusions to The Wizard ofOz
refer to Dorothy's fantasy world and not ro the mundane reality of
K ansas. Wild at Hea1"t p resents a world suffocaring under the height
ened prescnce of rhe object an d bomba rding the subject with exccss.
O nl y in a single sho t to ward the cnd of rhe film does Lynch suggesr rhe
alternarivc-,he world of desi re-tha t th is world uf excess obscures.
Just after rhe film's mosr m emorable sce nc (w hen Bobby Peru [Wi Llem
Da foe] $ex ually assaul ts L ula), we see l close-u p of Lula's feer in red
slippers. In l direc t a l1 usion ro The Wizal'd of Oz, L ula click s the heels of
her red shoes in an effort to remo ve herself from rhe wo rld of excess
and go " back to K ansas" - ro a worlJ of desire that ba rs and p rovides
protectio n from e njoym en t. Yet no such res pi te ex isrs: unlik e D orothy
in The Wizard ofOz, L ula cli cks he r h eel s to no avai\.
Tht: close-up of L ula clicki ng rhe hecls of her red shoes signifies me
absen ce of the world oEabsence and desire in the film. In this sense,
Wild at H eart does conti n lle the divi sion rh at mark s Ly ncb's other films,
bu r here che world of fa nrasy has completely subsumed the world of
desire. The wo rld of desire is present only th rough rhe al1usion ro irs
absence. 2 This allows L ynch ro explo re the ramifiearions of living en
ti rel y in a worl d of fa ntasy-a wo rld commirted at al1 rimes to maxi
mizing en joyment. Characters do not succumb to a sy mbolic law de
manding m e sacrifice of en joymen t for the sa ke of the social order. The
result is not what we might expect: rather than allowing Sailor and
L ula to enjoy themse1 ves fu!ly, tbe fanrasy world consta ntly rhreatens
their enjoym e nt.
Beca use rhe external wo rl d has rhe cha racter of a private fantasy
rathcr than a public realm, Sailor and L llla's pri va te fantasy ceases to be
l J isrincr p!:tce apart [roID the exte rn al wo rld. The more rhe worlJ ir-
I'III UA rH fA HT 111
self becomes fantasmat ic and over whelms us with images f excessive
enjyment, the more d ifficult it becomes for us to fantasize . Fantasy
depends on a public world of desire that bars enjoy me nt. We create
fantasies.-e ven filmic fantasies -in response to absence of the object
that constitutes this public worl d. In the completely fantasmatic world
that Wild at Heart depicts, the impossibility that plagues our desire <loes
not exist; the film presents tb e ultimate enjoyment as directly accessible
rather than impossible. Sailor and Lula's fantasy has no problem uf Je
sire that it must slve, and thus their relationship ends up simply repli
cating the externa! world rather than providing ;ln alternative.
The critique that Wild al Heart lcvels at contemporary society cco
ters on its proelivity for closing offthe space for fantasy. We live in a so
ciety that bom bards us with nonstop excess; the public realm tday pro
vides no relief from images of enjoyment and incentives to enjoyo
Images that once were confineJ to private fantasies noy\! proliferate
publiel y. But the point is not that this societal turn to public dis plays of
private fantasies has gone too fa r; it doesn't yet go far enough. It seems
as if we' re suffering from too many people publicl y liv ing out th eir fan
tasies, but they're living them out in an abbrevia ted formo Obscssed
with the image of enjoymen l, we miss the real o r traumatic dimension
of fantas y. W h at Wild at Heart shovvs is tbat the fantasma tic contempo
raey world requires a more profound com m itm ent to fantasy on the
part of the subject if this subject is to experience fantasy in its real d i
mension, to expe rience fantasy beyo nd its visual d imensiono The sub
jecr constructs fantas )' ou t of im ages, but th ese im ages [rame a nonspec
ular point-the impossibl e object- that is the source of the enjoyment
tbat fan tasy provides.
Th e Excesses o f W/d ot Heo rl
Wild at H eart is Lynch's mst exces sive fi lm. The film ineludes more
graphic violence, mOre open displays of sexuali ty, and m o re acts of ex
treme criminality than an y other Lynch film. Its excesses cause Blue
Velvet to seem subdued in ret ros pect. We see, among mn ny other tru ngs,
brain m aner spill from the head of Bobby Ray Lemon (Gregg Dan
dridge); Bobby Peru's in lense sexual ;lSS:llI lt 0 11 I.lIla; BlIhhy Pc ru inao
vertent1 y blowi ng offh is ow n he;, d \V iril .1 , IHIII ' 1111 ,11 H I 1lit' ':l di ~1 ic tll r
ture ane! murder f Johnn ic F:Il, tI~~ " 1 Cl I III} 111_111 ~ldlllll ll ). Wha t
117 THt I M 'OS~IOIl : nAV l 1l IY'' : II
makes these and ther excessi ve even ts so d isturbing is thar Lynch does
not prov ide any alternati ve spa ce w he rein we m igh t esta blish our bear
ings as spectators, a space m at we could contrast with the excessive
events. Imtead, the excess pervades cach and eve ry scene. Lynch critic
Jeff Johnson claims, with somc justice, that in this film "Lync h took lit
erally Blakc's metaphysical musings abour me roaci of exccss leading to
the palace of wisdom."3 O nly one character advocares any degree of
restrai nt-Johnnie Fa rragu t- ano he dies a ho rr ible death precisely
beca use his restrained pursuit of Sailor an d L ula displeases Marietta
and leads her su bscquently tu acquiesce to his murdcr.
The form of the fi lm ev inces a similar lack of restraint.4 Not only
does L ynch inelude g raphic imagery within the fram e, but he al so con
str ucls the narrative io a way that emphasizes excess. The movement of
the narrative suffers contin ual interruptions due to the film's excessive
events. This occurs, for instance, w hen Sailor and Lula are driving at
night through Texas aoel encounter a car crash. A s they stop to in vesti
gate, a wom an involvcd in the crash d ics befo re their eyes. T he enrire
scene has an cxcessive s[a tus re lative to the fil mic narrati ve beca use l
serves only to inter ru pt rather th an ad vaoce m e narrative. Ins tead of
m oving forward in a lin ear fashio n, tb e na rrative seems to ex ist in ord er
ro bring us to the next extreme image. T hi s dyn arn ic bcca m es appa rent
during Sailor and Bobby Peru':; attem pted robbery. As be shoots th is
el imactic scene in th e film, Lynch cm phasizes nat its role in the narra
tive but th e ex treme images that ir produces--th e a fo rementio ncd de
ca pila lion of Bobby Per u, and a dog seen walk ing away with the de
tached hand of one of rhe robbery victims in his mourh. Lynch creates
a form thar high ligh ts the extreme im age at the expense of narrative
m ovement , T wou ld argu e, in orde r to illustrate the eEfcct of unre
strained enj oyment. In the fi lmic world of Wild at Heart , there is no
norm al expe rience free of the stain of excess. 5
O ne of the chief ways that Lynch port rays visually the unrestrained
enjoyment that characteri zes m e fi lmic world is through the use offire.
Beginni ng with the fl lm 's opening titl es, w hich Lynch displa ys in w hite
against a black backg round w ith Aames rising up on it, ti re or fl ames
appear throughou t tbe fi lm. E ach ti me th at we see fire, characters are
en joying th emselves, even-or csrecia lly-when ~Lnoth e r character
bu rns t() tka th. W hen we see Sai lor and Lub ha ve sex fo r the fi rst tim e
in th\.: lil lll. 1.\I\,h nI ludes a cl(J~ l'- lI p ',(:1 Ib me ligh li ng a cigarettc .
WI ~ 1-' Al H(A RT 111
This image, repeated later in the film, points toward the ex treme enjoy
ment th at they seem to experienee. At othe r tim es, fir e illustrates the
enjoyment that eharaeters expe rience durin g acts of vio lence. Marictta
organi zes the fiery deaths of both Uncl e Pooeh (Marvin Ka plan) and
her husband C lyde, and their burning bodies demonstratc the enjoy
ment that she receives from their violent d ea ths.
Lyneh explieitly links Mar ien a's excessiv e cn joymcnt to th e excesses
that are ravaging the planet. Ea rl y in the film, Lul a tells Sailor, "That
ozone laye r is d isappea ri ng. One of these mornings the sun is going to
come up and bum a hole clear through th e pla net like an electrical
x-ray." A fte r Lula says this, we hear a woman's laugh in the backg round
and scc a c1osc- up of a pained look on Lul a's faee. The film dissolves tu
a shot of a house in flames-an im age of the Jeath of Lula 's father-as
the woman's disturbing laugh eontinues. This im age dissolvcs back to
L ul a's pained faee. Shc proclaims, "That woman 's laug h ereeps me out.
It sounds lik e someth ing r hca rd before. It sounds li ke the w icked
w itch." The laug h "creeps her out" beca use it remind s L ula of her
mother's laugh , her mother's obscene displ ay of enj oy m ent. We k no w
that Marietta is respons ibl e for thefire tha l kills her husba nd , and tite
image of the bu rning thus also m arks her enj oy ment. If tbe pla net. :lS
L ula claims, suffers from too mueh heat ane! fire, Marietta's excessive
enjoyment plays a pa rt in raisin g its tempe ratu re.
Ma rietta's exccssive en joyment also manifests itself in the spee tacle
she crea tes out (lf herself. We see her drunk, out of control emorionally,
and obsessed with destroyiog anyooe w ho stands in the way of her
desire. She d emonstrates no respeet for the typical bar ri ers that ma rk
re\ationsh ips , as she follows Sailor, the boyfrienJ of her J aug h ter,
ioto a men's room and asks him, "How would yOl! like to fuck L ula"
momma?" This ty pe of uncontroll ed w ill to eojoy even viol ates her
se\ f-interest, causing Marietta to act in ways that victimi ze hersel f.
Frustrated with Johnn ic F arragut's inabili ty to ap prehcnd Sailo r an
Lula, she all ows Marcel lo Santos (J.E. F reeman) to ha ve John nic rnur
dcred eve n th ough she 's in love with him. A fter consenting ro the mur
der of her love r, we see Ma rietta lose all restrai nt and srn ea r bri ght red
li pstick all over he r face. T he im age (lf ivfa rid l;1 \ h n e(lm pletely cov
ered w ith red lipstick is so dis tur bi ng heC II' '' 11 ill dll :I k~ hl' r 111 te r lack
of sdf-control. Eve n in her fecling oi" 11I11 ,1[" , , 111 tllII, 11"1 ';fOp ;It the
point rn()~t people do bu! CUlllilll ln 11) ,! :\ II 'r.~ I\"It'~ , 1.1, " . II ,,"" I ~ Jl i, ,(('ne::,
11-1 THE IMP OSSIUll I' ''V I ('I I Y"'~ 1I
Ja na Evans Brazicl notes, "Wld (/1 Ht'a /" presents Ma rietta as a woman
wh o is rapid ly spilling over towa r d~ bo u nd lcss ness."6 Thc result of this
boundlessness-and that of the C1t her characters in the film-is a world
in which enjoymcnt appears as :l n uoavoidable pub lic spectacle.
The intrusion of priva re en i oy m~ t in to the publi c world becomes
most evident in the eharacter of Bo bby Peru. Bobby is in Big Tuna
making a porn film , and we lea rn fro m another character that he was
invol ved in a massacre of civili anc; in Vietnam. But Bobby's exce ssi ve
cnjoy men t is not lim ited ro w hat he does; his appearance registers his
obscene enjoyment directly on t he surface of his boJy. His deforrned
mouth a nd teeth resern ble a vagi na d entata, and Lynch filrns th cm in a
way that emphasizes their rol e in Bobby's enj oyrn ent. Dur ing his sexual
assault on Lula, Bobby repeats "Sa y 'fuck rne.''' As he does this, \Ve see
repeated c1ose-ups ofhis rnou th, w hich looks rno re like the open mouth
of the \Vorrns in Dtme rhan an actual hurnan rn outh. Th e c1osc-ups sug
gest an enjoyrn ent that derives not from the sex act itself but frorn
speaking about it. This suggestion soon rcceives confirm ation w hen
Bobby refuses to have sex with L ula after he finall y coe rces he r into say
ing "F uek me." His private enj oyrnent mani fests itse lf in th e most pub
lie act of all-that of spea king/ Wheneve r he speak s in the film , h is
eoarsc language and ove rl y familia r m anner rend crs obv ious h is intense
en joym ent.
Eve n befo re bis assault on L ula, Bobby di splays tbe publ ic nature of
his enj oyment in his dialogue w ith her. He enters L ula anJ Sa110 r's
cabin and asks if he can "take a piss in your head ." Th is staternent
makes public acrivities th at are us ually kept pri va te. And his subse
quent explanation further d isplays h is obscenity, as he tells L ula thar he
m eans he r toi let rather than her actual head. He Baunts the extremes of
his ability to imagine perve rsions, evcn while deny ing that he will real
ize them . This publicizing of private enjoyment helps ro create a wo rid
w irhout a public realm constituted around abscnee anJ lack.
Marietta and Bobby serve as the primary figures of authori ty in Wild
at Heart, and each pushes Sailor and Lula towa rd enjoyment rather
rhan awa y fro rn it. In this sense, they represent the contemporary
wo rid's perversion of a uthority-the m aternal supe rego and the ana l
fat her of enjoymcnt. \Vhereas trad itional authority functions througb
absence and ar a di stance fro m the subject, contcm porary authority re
maim close at hand and exhibits its Own suffoeating enj oyrnent as it
WII rl /lo' H E/Io~T 11 ;,
commands the suhject to enj oyas we!!.R Marietta d emand s that Lul a
rem ain within their perverse ho nd and esc hew any o ther love object,
and Bobby driv es Sailor to commit a robbery that Sailor doesn 't wa nt to
commit. The p roximity of these two a uthority figures threa tens to su f
focate both Sailor anJ Lub. The exccssivc enj oyment that ch arac terizes
th e filmic world of Wild al Hearl lca ves no room for Sa ilo r and Lula to
constitute their relation ship. To expericnce too much enjoymcnt is al
ways to fee! as if one is n ot experiencil1g enough.
Publicized Privacy
It is tempting tu focus o n the appealing rom ance between Sailor an d
Lula-Michel Chion calls it " the most beauti f ul love ba ilad which the
cinema h as ever whispered into the night"9- a nd contrast this rela tion
ship with th e threatening external world in w hich it exisrs in the film .
The re! ationship , according to th is interpretatio n , providcs res pite froro
the unpleasa nt life existing ou tside of it. It is harmonious, pure, and in
n occ nt, while the surrounding world is d egradcd , violent, and perve rsc.
Though not as celebratory in his praise of t he relatio nship as C hion ,
Kenneth K aleta emphasizes this dyn am ic: " M utual sec uri ty in th e ir
un ion, romantic innocen ce, underlies the . .. rela tio nshi p, dis tinguish
ing them from the squalo r and frenzy Qf m eir w o rld ."1O Eve n critics
who see a connectio n betwec n th e rel ationshi p and the w orld sur round
ing it tcnd to sce this connection resulting from the influcnce of an im
pure world on Sailor and L u la. T h e fault does no t lie w ith meir rela
tion ship itse!f. For Martha N och imson, the distinc rion betwee n the
rom a ntic relationship and th e external wo rlJ in th e fil m b reaks down ,
but it break s JO'vvn when the "d issonant" nature o f tbe exte rnal wo rld
intrudes o n them. She c1aims, "T ensio ns in Sailor ancl Lu la's relatio n
ship are nev er resolved beca use , despite their mom ents of sex ual grace,
the y too are part of the disson ant w orld as it actuall y cxistS."11 IfSail or
and Lul a's relationship falls short of an ideal at some poin t, lhis is the
prod uct not of its ow n intern a 1 failing but that of the society in w h ich it
exists.
The problem with this apo theosis of the fi lm's f()II);1IK ~ a nd co rre
sponding d enigratiof1 of the rest of the SOCi" I)' ti 1;1 1 1h, h llll J cpicts lies
in its failure to ~ee the fund a mc nla l lillk 1,, ' I\Verll Ihl~ IW'-I , 11.11 th <.: film
itself makcs . ~Vitd al H elJl' f docs 111 11 "1'1'11\1 ' ~, rlllill 11111\ I Id.I\ r OI1 \;lll r "
11" '''1 IMIIO ~S " ,II UAVlll IYrIL "
to the violcnt world that surrouncl s it but shows the intimate link be
tween the two. Throughout the fil m , Lynch works on the lev e! of form
to dem ons trate the links between the romance an d the surrounding
world . The film even goes so far as to suggest that the society depicted
in Wild at H eal't les in such disarra y becauJe oJthe approach that Saill or
and Lula tak e ro their romance. That is to say, they expe ri ence the
world as vio1ent and threa tcning because of the position they occupy,
n ot necessa ril y beca use the wor ld is violent and threa te ning. Wild at
Heart brea ks clown the d istinction between the m e re1 y p riva te fantasy
and the external wo rld, allowi ng us to see how private fantasies work
to sha pe me external wo rld .
E ven a film as devoted to the exp loration of private fantasy as Wild
at Heart becomes a film about soci ety at large. T ho ugh the political di
mension of Emserhead (1977) and D une (1984) is pe rhaps more ev ident,
WlLd at Hea l't sho w s how the pri vate bccomes p ublic and takes on a so
cia l impo rt oIn thi s se nse, it d efies Sharon Willis's com plaint mat "while
Lynch's film s are all abo ut struggles wi th 'the pa rents inside o ne's head,'
they a re about protectin g and preserving th ose in te rnal imagoes, in ter
n al censo rsh ips . Conseq uently, th ey o ffe r the lure of protectioD fr om
histor y and poli ti cs by imag in ing th at cveryth ing comes clown to a p ri
vate psychosexual adventu re, o r dra ma. lt is aU in our h eads ."12 In Wild
al H eart (th e fil m I'ha t earnSthe m a jo rity of W illis 's critici sm), the d rama
m ay in fae r be in ou r h eads, but oue head s are leaking in to the outside
world.
Th is becom es most appa rent through Lynch's use of music in the
fil m , especialJy me spccd- meta l song "Slaughterhousc" by the band
Powe rmad . O n the one ha nd , the son g serves as something like an an
them for Sa ilor and Lul a's re1atio nship. Ir pld ys w h en we first see them
h av ing sex, w hen Sa ilor an d L ula d a nce to the ba nd playing it live,
and w hen they dance to it o n th ei r car radio on a d ese rted T exas high
way. According to A nnette D avison, "Slaug hte rhouse" exp resses "the
strength and pass ion of Sa ilo r and Lula 's love."' 3 But the song is not as
sociated only with images o f their roma n ce. We first h ear this song in
th e ope ning scene o f me fi lm as Sa il or beats Bobby Ra y Le mon to death.
Af te r a shot of Lerno n threate ni ng to ki ll Sa ilo r and a close- up on
Lemo n opcning h is sw ite hblade. th e twn heg in ro fi g ht, a nd just as the
fig ht c ()mIl H'll n'~, 1he v ole n l so und ()f "SI::! ug htu ) ouse" com menees as
wd !. I >a \'l~l1 ri d, ',( I i'\~ 1his song ~IS "a IlIlId :lIl d gralid i"se piccc nf rock
WII f) M tlfART 1I1
music that builds in strength through a combinario n of the emphatic
repetition and va riatia n of thematic fi gures w ith pe rcussive im errup
ti on. " q The lo udn.ess and building strength of the song creates a sense
of break ing free from restraint-and thi s out-of-co ntrol qual ity char
acterizes both the romance and Sail or's violence. If "Slaughterhouse"
expresses the passion in Sailor and L ula's relationship, it also expresses
the wa y in which chis passion exceeds the relationship itself and mani
fests itsclf in Sailor's rage tO\vard thc externa! worl d. Ly nch uses the
same music for their rclationship and for Sailor's lethal violence in or
der to indicate the abscnce of a barrier betwcen the re:lationship and the
external world.
Before it establishes the romance between Sail or and Lul a, Wild at
Heart dcpicts a thrcat to this romance in the form of Bobby Ray Lem on
(and Marietta, who hired him to kill Sailor). This woul d seem to suggest,
following Nochimson's thcsis aboye, that the film h ighlights the extern al
forces that tbreatcn the purity oF the romance. H owever, though the
opcning sccnc shows Lem on and Ma rietta as th reatcni ng fi gures, it
pl aces more em ph asis on Sa ilor's excessi ve reaction to Lemon's threat. As
we hear the po unding m usic fro rn Powermad, we watch Sa ilor beating
Lemon's hea d repeated!y against the rail ing of the stairs. A close-up of
blood spl atteri ng across the Aoor foll ows. Sailor th row5 L emon dow n
thc sta irs and sm as hes his head agai n st the ground until a po o! of blood
amasses. A fter we see Sailor sta nd ing victorious over the body, Lync h
cuts to a closer shot of the body that m akes vis ibl e bra in matter oozing
out of the back of Lemo n's head. Rathc r than di splayi ng remo rsc, SaiJor
poses ove r the dead body and lig hts a cigarette. The fa ct th at this sceIle
opens the film and thus provid es our first insight into Sailo r's ch aracter
suggests its importance for und erstanding him . T hough Sailor is cle
fending him se!f, me
leve! of violen ce he employs far exceeds wh at is nec
essary. This depiction of excessive violence emanating from Sai lor re
veals the link between Sailor and Lula's re!a tionship and the violent
world that surrounds them. Instead of marking a retreat, their relation
ship hel ps to consti tute the violent ex ternal world. J5
Lynch himse!f says that he included the ch a racter of O . O . Spool
(J ac k Na nce) making reference to T he Wi.zard ofOz in ore!er to ind iGne
the li n.k between Sailor an d L ula 's rela tions nip :md t he \Vorle! sur
roun ding it. The Wizard ofOz [Jrovides ti ,, , cl1"II1>' t.. r tlt, f;1n! 3SY th~l t
Sailo r and Lula try to real izc: hey [11>11111 d l'IlU h,', '111 d I!' Yd low
li S 111, I M I' O~5 I!H( U'V II ) I YN ~ I I
Brick Road headi ng for som ewhere aye r lhe rain bow, me naced on their
voyage by the W icked W itch . They tra nsfor m The Wzzard of Oz ioto
their own private Iang uage, but Spool 's presence in th e narrati ve sug
gests that others have access ro m is same priva te lang uage. Spool ap
pea rs in the film after Sailor and Lula arrive in Big Tun a, Texas, and
th is appearancc seems en rel } tange ntial to the fi lmic narrative, as does
the belaborcd story he tells about hi s dogo Bm whe n he men tio ns rhe
dog, he says, "A nd you may even picture Toto from The Wizard of Oz ."
T his statement from a com plete stranger discomfi ts L ula-as it should
the viewer-bccause it indicates th at Sailor and Lul a's private fa m asy
life has scepcd into the public wo rld. Discussi ng this momen!:, Lynch
says, "The idea tbat someone else was speaki ng about something that
Sailor and Lula sh a red secretl y was a dou ble wha mmy. ft n ts in with
the theme, hut it's scar y at the same tim e."J6 H ea ring an ou tsider's ref
erence to Toto, we mcogni ze Sailo r an d Lula's inabili ty t cons truct a
distinctive fa ntasy Efe in a w holly fantasma tic world .
At one point in the film, the distinctio n between m e lovers and the
world surrou ncl ing mem seem s most em phatic: as L ula d rives the car
aft er they lea ve New Orleans, shc sea rches for something to listen to on
the radio and n nds on ly d istu rb in g ne w,'; being c1 iscussecl on evny sta
ti on. Disgus ted , sh e pulls the car a ve r to the side of me road , gets out,
and deman ds that Sailor "find sorne music" on the rad io. After tuni ng
th rough more talk radi o, Sail or d iscovers a song-" Sla ug hterhouse" by
P owerm acl , the speed-metal song that pLayed w hcn S:llo r k illed Bobby
Ray L cmoll and when Sailor and L ula had sex fur thc fi rsr time in the
fi lm. Hece, th e song appea rs d iegetically (as ir d id on ce eaclier in the
film w hen Sa iJ or and Lul a l.istened ro the band perform it Li ve) ancl oc
casions a d ram atic change in Lula's atti tud e. She and Sailor bcgin to
dance wil dJy at the side of the road as the song bb res from the car's
sterco.
The music seem s to offer so me pri vate respite for Sailor and Lula
fro 111 the viole nce and traged y of the exte rnal worl d . But the song itself
is jus t as vi olent as the d iscussions on the rad io, and , for us as spectators
of the fil m , we associate it with me ex treme violence that 5ailor dis
played as he beat Bobby Ray Lem on to dea th. T his connotation indi
cates thn t despite Lula's belief tha t th is m usic offers an alternative to the
"sick " worl d, Sailor and Lula rema in firmly within this sick ness whil e
dancing on the sie! e of the road ro "Slaug hterhousc. " U ntil me ene! of
W/LDATI/ EARJ 119
II \!. fil m, ~ a h ' r (t nd L ula's rcl ati onship conti nues tu m ino r the external
worl J ralher than pose a genuin e alternati ve.
Not Enough Fontosy
Sailo r and Lula encounter so much troubIe in their attempt ro realize
their fantasy hecause they fail to commit them sel ves fuIly ro it. They
want the fantas)' ro he pIeas urahIe, a nd chus they cann ot sustain it w he n
it isn't. It is this dev iatio n, not the fantasy itself, that p rod uces cach of
rhe difficulti es they encounter. Rath er than warning us abou t the d an
gers of fantasm a ti c enj oym ent , the fi lm reveals w hat results from our
inability ro follow th e logic offantas y. This failure occurs w hen we turn
our attention tow ard the O ther a nd concentra te on how the O the r sees
uso W hen on e fu lly commits to on e's fantas y, one ignores rhe O ther's
look altogethe r, but th is docsn't ha ppen in the film , nor does it ha ppen
in our see mi ngly fa ntasm ati c contempo rary soc iery.
Wild at H eart beli es Lynch's own conse r vative comm ents ahout its
serv ing as a ca utionar y taje. C ommen ting on contem pora ry soc iety, he
cl aims, " Eac h yea r we give permission for pcople to gel away wilb
more. W e d o it by being di so rganized , bein g w it hou t Ieadershi p, not
m aking deci sions fas t cnoug h, and nOl hold ing tr ue to things that were
in place to beg in w ith. Then il gets easier to give m ore away."17 F rom
these com m ents , it sou nds as if rne excess tha t Wld at Heart c1 epiets is
the result of an absence of authority-a n absence that has al\owed indi
vi d ual subj ects too much leeway in reali zin g their p rivate fan tasies at
th e publi c's expense. And this is certa inl y how the fil m in itiall y appea r s.
But such a view m isses the deg ree of obedience th at Sailor and L u la ex
hibit towa rd fig ures of autho rity.
Sa ilor and Lul a cach fa il to full}' em brace their fantasy for di ffen t
reasons, and through the d e piction of their fa il ure, Lync h reveals the
common m ale a nd fem ate ways of avoid ing the real that fa ntasy actual
izes. Sailor avo id s fuJly commi ttin g him self ro thcir fa ntasy because of
hi s inves tm ent in phallic authority. From the very first sce ne of lhe fil m ,
Sa ilor sers out to prove hi s non-cas tration, to prove that he is potent
rather than lacking. He bea ts Bohby Ray Lem on lo dea lh an J lights a
ciga rette over th e body in ord er to u nclerl int: h i~ t rili ll1 r h. Late r, he cn
gages in a sim il ar- tb ough Icss v iolen t- IHltl ll lr\' whu\ ,11I11t1 lcr man
a pproaches Lu la at a COllccrt. T h is SCl: I H' i, l 'p' \ .. 11 1\ 1 t \ 1 I lle-'1 y itlsof:lf
I JO 1111 I M r osr. I ~LE DAV I D L'/MCl I
as it depicts Sailo r d efending Lul n's "h onor." Sail o r forces the rn an to
apologize to Lula for the offe nse he has gi ven her. Far from ind icating
Sa ilor's e1evo ton ro Lul a and th eir fa n tasy, these action s show Sailor's
in ves tment in p haIlic authority. He acrs as he cloes Dot for Lula but for
the anonym ous societal O ther- in order to e1em o nstrate his status as
non-lack ing.
Sailor believes him self free of aU the sy m bolic constra ints tbar bind
otber subjects. H is mantra concern ing h is snakcskin jacket ma kes lhis
id ea of h imself clea r: "M y sna kesk in jac ket . . . rep resents m y ind ividual
iry anel m y beliefin personal freedom." The problem w ith t his insi stence
on his indi vid uality is prec ise\y the ins tence itsel f. Th at is, the ve ry fact
that Sailor must p rofess his freeelom to th e O ther tes tifies to his lack of
frecd om and to h is de pend ence on th ar O th er to recogni ze him as a "free"
subj ect. Sailor claim s rhat he suffers from an absen ce of symbolic author
ity, noting that he "didn't hav e much pare ntal guid ance." E u t the film re
veals th e opposite. Sa ilor suffers from too much "paren tal guid ance"
the suffocaring prese nce of pa rental Or social au th ority.' 8
Sailor's investm ent in sym boLic author ity a nd its ideal of non
cas tration leads h im ultim atel y to go a lon g w ith Bobby P eru 's heist.
Bobby d ang ks the idea of p rovidi ng for L ula in front ofSailor, and this
is enoug h to w in Sa ilor 's acq u iescence. He sed uces Sailor w ith th e im
age of a "real m an" w ho co ul d sup po rt h is woma n. Al th e en o of the
film, thi s is also w hat p revcnts Sailor from initialI y going w id, L ula and
h is son Pace when they pick him up fro m prison. Feel ing that he c:ln't
be rhe perfect fathe r for Pace, Sai lor rejects arhe rh ood altogethe r. The
very id entifica tion w ith sy mbolic autho rity preven ts hi m from fully
embracing fan tasy.
And w here Sail or invests h irnself in sym bolic auth ori ty ar rhe ex
pense of fan tasy, L u la inves ts herself in an im aginary au thoriry- her
m other Ma rietta . She recogni zes rhe rol e t har her mothe r plays in kecp
ing her a part from Sailo r, and ye t never sta nd s up to her m other or
breaks off comm unicatio n. H er co mmitment to her im aginary bond
with her mother rem ains stro nger throughou t the film than he r com
mi tment to the fantasy of rornantic u n ion w ith Sai lor. She confesses to
Sailor, "Maybe my m omma ca res for me just a little too mueh," which
show s that Lula g ras ps to sorne ex tent Ma rietta's im p roper bun d with
her. Bu t the ver y wa y thar she p uts it- thar Ma rietta cares "too much"
d cm ons t ra tes her refusal to ack now led ge w hat's ar stak e fo r her.
WI l D A T Il fART l' 1
 In order to sustain her feelings for her morher, Lula lies to hcrself
and to Sailor about her ow n knowledge concern ing Marietta 's activi
tieso In narrating her childhoou to Sailor, she recounts Unele Pooch'~
rape of her when she was thirteen and the death of he r father. Both of
these cases reveal that Lula knows about her mother's kn owlcd ge of the
rape (and her involvement in Pooch's murder afterward) and that she
seems to know about her moth er's role in her father's death . A s Lula
discusses Uncle Pooch's rape, w e see a Aashback ofr h e ev ent, and when
she describes how ~Jngry Marietta wou'ld h:lve been had sh e known, we
see Marietta w alking in on the aftermath ofthe felpe and accosting Un
ele Pooch. Since this flashback occurs whi'le Lula is speaking, the film
suggests that she knows what we see-and has either re pressed it or in
tentionally ignored ir. From this, we can suppose that L ula at least sus
pects her mother's role in th e death of her father. Thi s avoidance of the
truth about her mothcr allows Lula to continuc to enjoy the securiry o f
her bond with Mariett a.
To succumb to the logic of fantas)' is to encounter a m aterializatian
of the gap within the symbolic order. F a ntasy, tbe narra ti ve appea ring
in this gap, primarily functions to assure us that the gap doesn't exi st,
that there is an Other outside th e system of sign ificaron w ho authori zes
it. But beca use of its locatiof] in the gap of th e sy mbolic order, fan tasy
also has the potential to desrroy the assurances of sy mbolic identity an d
the comforts (lf imaginary bonds, forc ing liS to expe rience an en joy
m ent tha t leaves us exposcd and vul nerable. T his is an enjoyment thar
we don't see throughout the film. W e see images ofSailor a nd L u la en
joying themselves, but eve n w he n th ese mom ents occu r p ri vately, the
rehearsal s of e njoyment are perfo rmances for the O rbe r. loan Cop jec
suggests that "jouissance flourish es o nly there whe re it is no! valiclated
by the Other."I9 One cannot perform one's enjoymcn t; one suffers it.
Refusing Any Absence
The problem with the en joyment that the characters in Wild at Heart
pursue is that it demands a n impossible total presence. The attempt to
secure complete e njoyment without Joss inevita bl y pf()duces prec ise1y
the experience of loss that one t ries to avoid . C OI n pk tL' r.:n juyrnem ha s
ao imaginary status: we see it- or imagin e il itl rll. r Irlll'r, hut cvery
auernpt to reali ze it b rings di sappoi ntmt'I\! 11 111, o!l ~, I J!J!' .\lIl1llllltl is lhe
122 Tlit IMP OSSln LE DA I/ ID ~ YNC II
gen esis of psyc hoa n alysis, whi ch comes into being in response to it and
reveals that all satisfaction d epends o n an initial renunciation of the
p ri vi leged object. As Lacan puts ir in Senlinar V, " it is insofar as the
child . . . cloes not renUI1ce its objcct tha t its d esire does not find it
sel f satisfied."20 The initial re nuncia tion p rov ides the a venue through
which desire travels. The atternpt ro su stain a relationship vvith the
privi,leged object inevitably fails beca use the object only becomes the
privi l eged objta-rhe obj ect e mbodying the subjcct's enjoyrnent
th rough its loss. Clinging to th e prescnce of the object thus devalues the
object and foregrounds the subject's failure to enjoyo
But the drive toenjoy is not so easil y sidetracked . Though consciously
me subject rnay remain fixated on the ideal of complete enjoyment, the
unconscious drives the subject to ward another form of enjoyrnent. Since
enjoyrnent can onl y be partial and depends on the experience of absence,
the subject d isappointed w ith the atternpt to achieve complete enjoy
ment soon works unconsciousl y to create the loss uf the obj eot whereby
enjoyrnent w ill become possibl e. T h at is to sa.y, the frustrated suhject
be nt on co m plete enjoyme nt engages in a for m of self-sabotage that actu
al! y deprives this subj ect of the privilegcd object that it desires, T he sub
ject's proclivity fo r self..sabotage -dream s that retu ro to trauma rather
than imag in ing its d isap pearaoce, the nega tive therape utic reaction , and
so o n-impel s F rcud to write Beyond the Pleaiure Principle (1920), in
which h e d iscove rs the cleath d rive a ncl asse rts its primac y. As Freud sees,
unconscious sel f-sabotage is the path rhar desirc takes w hen it initially
chok es ()n the stifl ing presen ce ofr.he privi leged bject.
Pe rn aps the fundamental co u nterin witive el aim of psychoanalysis is
tha t subjects do not act in thei r own sel f-in te rest. Instead, they sacrifice
thei r self-inte rest in o rd er to crea te or sustain them sel ves as desiring.
Sel f-in te rcst has val uc for the subj ect beca use it provides som e thing to
sacrifice. By sacrificing one's own inte rest in an act of self-sabotage, one
inaugurates the relationship of desire rda tive to the lost object. But few
consciously engage in the project of scl f-sabotage: the conscious pursuit
of self..inte rest allows the suhj ect to rern:lin blind to the unconscious
sa crifice of it.
This is rhe dy narn ic tha t becomes rampant in a world where every
one is bent o n obtaining complete en joyrn e nt. T hi s pe rvasive will to en
joy infects alm os! cvery cha racte r in Wild /Jt Heart, and Lynch ineludes
th e o thcr\\'i,\ I.illt!c: nt i::' story o f Jingle Ud l (C rispi n GI ()" cr) in o rder
WII IJ lIT " rR T 173
to exe mplify the link between the search for com p lete enj oy m e nt and
th e violen ce that characte rizes the wo rld of the fi lm. 2 1 W hile Lul a and
Sailor are talking in bed one night, Lula tell s Sailo r the story of he r
cousi n nickna med "Jingle Del!," as we see the story unfold in flashba ck.
Jingle Dell ea rned hi s name beca use he \va nted Christmas to last al!
year long, and when it didn 't, he concoc ted a par anoid th eo ry about
aliens controlling the ea rth and stealing the spir il of Christmas. 111 re
spon se to the absence of the spirit of Christmas, he bega n placing co&
roaches on his anus. As Lul a recounts this detail, we see an imagc of
Dell's mother finding his und erwea r covered "vith cockroaches. Even
though thi s seems like a biza rre and ex treme perve rs ion, it fol!ows logi
call y from Jingle Dell's sta rting point. Lync h has Lula tel! thi s story be
cause it demonstrates in precise te rms the tra jectory tha t res ults from
the pri\!ileg ing of com plete enj oyment.
Jingle Dell's desire for Ch ristm as to last all year lon g is a desire for
enjoyment without a bsence. But enjoyment depend s on absence, and
Christmas allows us to un dersta nd this in the simplest way. One's en
joyment is the result of th e absen ce of the privileged d ay throughout
the rest of the year: one e nj oys Chri stmas o nl y as an exceptional day,
w hich mea ns that one oblatns from it a partial enj oyme nt. In order to
ex plain the failure of com plete en joy m ent, Jingle D ell turns to a pa ra
noid exp lanation: the O thcr has stolen th is enj oy ment-the spi ri t of
C hri stmas-and t bus represents an externa l barrier to com plete enj oy
m en t. Th is type of explana tion allows the subject ro preserve the idea l
of complete enjoyment as a possibili ty in m e fac e of its faiLu re. Jingle
D ell can tell himself that even tho ugh we don 't cn joy the spir it of
Christmas all yea r lo ng, this failure is not necessary but the contingent
result of an alie n age ncy. In conjunction with th is explana tion, Jingle
Dell begins placing cockroaches on his anus in order to expe ric nce en
joyment in som e way a fter missing the complete enjoyment of a perma
nent C hri stmas . The masochistic tu ro to the coc k roach ap peals to Del!
beca use the cockroach allows himto suffer and, while suffering, he
feeb th e abscncc of the pri vileged ob ject, which is the modt' in w hich
one can c nj oy it. I n this way, DeLl 's tu rn to perversion p rov ides exactly
what his investm en t in the sp irit of Ch ristl11 as co ulr! nut-actual
enj oym ent .22
Tbe case of Ji ngl e Dcll lays o ut tite 1';111\ '11 ,11.1 1 Ih , pllw l , hllractc:rs
in Wild al Heart follow, ;[ hl.: i, k-\~ ' \11111 ,11" !), IIIIII . ." lf c!\\lrul.:l ive
1 7~ rHI I M I'..., ~~ I II I F, OJlVlr, 1YNc.:;p
acts-the killing of Hobby Ray Lemon, the robbe ry committed w ith
Bobby Pe ru-result ff()m lhe logic of Jingle Dell. Una ble to experie nce
the complete e njoy m e nt he dcsircs des pite the presence ofLula, Sailor
finds a way to introd uce abse nce into thei r rdati onshi p and thus to
m a ke it enjoyable. L ula, for her part, finall y sub mi ts to Bobby Pcru and
says, "Fuck m e," for the Sdme reason. T h is scene occurs in rh e midst of
troubles in her rel.mionsh ip with Sailo r, a nd il works to em phasize th e
ex perience of absence for Lula . Though they don'r go so far as to put
cockroac hes on their anuses, both Sailor and L ul a's behavio r mirrors
tha t of Jingl e Del!.
The Price of the Ho ppy End ing
Tbough other seten es (the shooting of Jo hn nie Farragu t, Hobby Peru's
assault on Lula) are more m emorable tha n [he ending, the film 's final
scene m ay be the most d is rurbi ng simply because it seem s to violate the
ov e rall tone of the fi lm a nJ rep resent.1 clea r in stance of Lynch's cavi ng in
to popular expectation s. Lynch hi m sel exprcssed awa re ness th at people
might say he "was trying to be COl11mercial" by p rod ucing a h app y elld
ing whe re Barry G ifford's sou rce novel did nO lo ' 3 Ly nch 's rew ri ting of
the concl usion of G iffo rd 's n ovel m arks a d ramatic ch ange. As Dav id
Hughes points ou t, thoug h he rnade other significant changes in w ri ring
tbe screenplay, "No single aspect of Lynch's adaptarian re presc nred a
m ore rad ical depa rture from the sou rce m ate rial ma n the c ndi ng."'4
hough this type of depa rru re is ty pical in H oll ywood ad a ptations, we
ca nnot simply cha lk it up to Lynch's desire ro creare a popular fil m, espe
ciaHy in light of his other fi lm s and the othcr ways in which lhis film es
che ws a po pul ar appeal . Why, men,does the film end ha ppily?
Lynch ineludes the h appy end ing in arde r to show just what it would
take for us ro expe ricnce enjoyrne nt a m id the conte m porary landsca pe.
In o rd er to secure the film's ba ppy end ing, Sailor and Lula m ust ful!y
commi t the msel ves to the real k ernel oftbeir fantasy aCld give up their
in vestment in thei r sy mbolic and im agina ry relationships. A fter Sailor
walks awa y from Lu la and hi s son Pace to wa rd rhe e nd of the film, a
gang of men approa ch hi m from a1l sides a nd surro und h im as he walks
dow n the m idd le of the road. Sai lor stops, ligh ts a cigare n e, and asks,
"W har do YOU faggols wan t? " This q ues tion prolllpts the ga ng to attack
Sai lor. lml . 1'; he l ic~ nn rhe g ruunJ aftcr rh e bc:'t ing, he h:1s a visi O)1 oC
\'.'11 J ~r II r llR I 11
 the good witch Glinda (Shery l Lee) from The Wiza ,.d olOz. G li nd a tells
Sailor that Lula la ves him and tha r he shuldo't turo away from love.
Sailor prote~ ls, "I'm wi ld at hea rt," and Glinda rcsponds, "If you're
truly wild at heart, )'u'lI fight fr yom dreams ." T hou gh it seems like
a maud lin clich, the corrective that C;linda offe rs to Sailor hef(" shows
how Sailor has m isunderstood what comtitutes "wild at hea rt" through
out the film. For Sailof, bei ng wild at hea rt means embodying an ideal
of non-castration, being a rea l man in the eyes of the O ther; but G lind a
points out that being "truly wild at heart " involves fully cornmitting
oneself to the logic of one's fantasy-"figh ting for one's dreams," as she
puts it. To do so one must adopt an attitude of ind ifference conce rn ing
the Other's recogn ition. G linda's redefi niton of the film's titul ar coo
cept spurs a revolution in Sailor.
In response ro his vision of G linda, Sailor apologizes to the ga ng an d
runs to Lula and Pace. The key gesture here is the apology, which sug
mother h<ls over her.
. gests that Sai la r has g iv en up the ideal of non-castration. Ra ther than
W hen Sai lor returns to Lula at th e end of the film after hi s own rev
seeking complete en joyment through refusing any experience of lack,
elation, Lync h cuts back to a picture of Ma rietta. We see her image dis
Sailo r now recogni zes that one caJl discover enjoyment through lack .
appear as smoke r ises from the empty fra me. Marietta's phorog raph
oe can becom e wild at hea rt on ly through emb racing the famasmatic
response to lack. When Sailor psye hically tu rns from his commi unen t
to full enjoyment to a full commiun ent to f<lntasy, he is able lO retur n t
Lula em e! accomplish th e filrn's hap py endin g.
T he sta tus of the gan g that beats up Sailor in thi s scc ne demon
srrates the effec r of Sailor's own disposition on tbe world arounJ hi m .
The gan g's m embers hrst <lpproac h Sailo r in a way that seems th reaten
ing, but the film sugges ts tha t th ey th realen Sailor not bec.luse they a re
threatening in th emsclves bu t beca use he is out lO prove his oon
castration. T he gang, in othe r words, stands as a bl an k slare that takes
a definite (aggressive) form a s a result of Sailor's attirud e towan; them.
Sailor a rticulates th e fi rst actual hostile rcmark bctween them with his
homoph obic slur, and thi s slur trigge rs the beati ng. After Sa il or apola
gi zes, the gang ev inces no more hostiJity. Thei r aggressive dem ea nor
occurs in respo nse to the demeanor and expectations of Sa ilor himself.
W hen these change, the external world changes too. By gi ving up hi s
in ves tment in the ideal of complete cnjoymenr :I n<l Cf)ll1 rnil lin g himself
instead to his fantasy. Sai lor in dfecl Ir. III ~I ' "II\~ ti ", I" !, rn.11 wn rl d .
Thc perverse ancl1.hrcar.c ning world il l \\ h l' 1I \\ '_ livl! i, tlll' p rodUC l .)1'
1" 1111 I MrO.~I'1 1 ",",V IO l ~tH: 1I
our fadure ro sustain investment in the logic of fan tasy when t touches
the trauma tic real. 25
We see a related dynamic in the case ofLula. W hen she goes to pick
up Sailor after his rekase from prison, Lula receives a call from her
mother, w ho asks her Dot to go. Lula rej ec ts this iJea, and Marie tta
asks, "Girl, what if 1totd you no t to go?" Marietta raises hcr voice as she
says this, and we see a close-up of her face as she screams into the phone.
Th e film cuts to Lula, w ho says, "Marnrna, if you get in the way of me
an d Sailor's happness, rll fucking pull your arms out by the roots! "
and slams down the phone. This exchange ma rks Lula's first opcn re
jection of her mother, and Lula 's wo rds themselves ind icate her w ill
ingness to break the bond that exists bet wee n them . Even though Lula
isn't li terally threatening to pull Marietta's arms "out by the roots," this
way of putting her rejection alludes to break ing the hold that her
d isappears in th is way beca use Lula has defi ed her and broken [he bo nd
tbar exi sts betwcen the m. T he bond continued ro exsr onl y insofar as
Lula sustaincd it. When she gi ves rhi s up and commirs hc rself fully to
he r fantasy, Marierra and her inil uence dissolve. T hc fun d am ental step
towa rd creating th e possibility of enj oyrn ent is brca king the bond with
the maternal figu re. As Laca n puts it in Semina,. XVII, "The means of
jouissance are open on the principie that one has aba ndoned the e n
closed anJ foreig n jouissa nce of the mother."6
The sacri fice of the pri vilegcd ob ject is 3n ex perience thar contempo
rary subjects are inc rea singly u nwill ing to submit too T he insi stcnce on
complete enjoyment and on th e absolu te presence of [he privileged ob
jeet creates an aggress ive and violent wo rld in which the subjecr finds
itself increasingly unable to en joyo W ithout an acceptance of the inirial
loss, one loses the space for fantasy.
The e!isappearance of Ma rietta's image in the pic ture fram e and rhe
e!ramatic transfo rmaton of the gan g surrounding Sailor are moments
when the impossible occurs in Wld al Heaft. A chan ge in Lula and
Sa ilor's relation shi p ro their private fantasy occasion s a ch ange in how
others trea r rhvlll . In rhe act of full y embracing their fantasies, even in
\VII D "T ~FAn 12
their trauma tic, real dimension-being "trul y \V ild at hea rt," as Glinda
puts it-th ey aba ndon their own isolati o n from rhe wo rld. I n doing so,
they change thcir world and demand a similar tran sform ation in the
spectator as wel!. Ironically, Lynch suggesrs that we can come to see the
connection between ou r pri vate fa ntasy and th e external world-their SIX Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with A/e and
speculative identity-through a d eeper imm ersio n in th e fantas)' itse lf.
To put it another way, we ca n see the link between ou r ex periencc in Identificatia n with the Object
the cinema and our experience outsiJe it only w hen we lmm e rs-c our
selves wholly io th e former.
According to this way of understanding the fi lm, Wlld at Hall'! re
mains a scathing piece of social commentary, but it loses th e conscrva
ti ve inAection that Lynch's own interpretation would giv e it. The film
depicts a deg raded society where verbal assaults a nd extreme violcncc
confront the subject at every turno But it allows us ro loca te the origin of
this degrad a ti o n in the prcvalence of too much respec t for th e law
rather than nor e nough . The filmic structure of Wild at Heal't thereby
undermines the typical conser vative jercm iads aim cd at the Iice ntious
ness of contcmporary cult ure a nd a ppropri ates their appea ls. Conscrva
Th e Contradidory Status of l auro Po lme r
tism (as ad he ren ce to the law) becomes itselft he sou rce ofthe probl em.
The onl)' freedom from the threats that popul ate con temporary society Wi th Twin Peaks: Fire Wa1k with Me (1992), Lynch returned to the telc
lies in the full emhrace of fantasmatic enj oymen t rathe r rh an the Jt vision s e ri e~ rhat ABC cancelled afre r its secon d season. T h is seemed
tem pt to curb it. like a sa fe choice fo r Lynch : as wirh DU17e (1 984), the film had a built-in
aud ie nce am ong t hose w ho watched the telcvision se ri es. U nfortu
nate1 y, the film had a fate sim il a r to that of DU17e, a nd il avoidecl beiog
a bo mb the m agnitude of Dune on ly beca use of the rela tively m eage r
size of rhe budge t ($ ro mili ion in 1992 fo r Fire Wa1k with Me versus $4 2
mili ion in 1984 for Dtme). Even audie nces at Cannes who had embraced
the excesses of Wild at Heart (1990) booed and hissed at the premiere of
Fire Walk with Me. Ly nch's clecision to create a prequel rather th an a
seque! and his insiste nce o n shooting the film from the perspect ive of
the murde r victim in the series, Laura P almer (Sheryl Lee), had the ef
feet, in the mind of many fans a nd critics , of retroactive1y ruining th e
tel evisio n show they e njoyed .
Fire Walk with Me beg ins w ith a t rau matic evmt that marks its break
w ith the telev ision series th at shares its narne. The credi ts appear on a
snowy telev ision screen, a nd as the camera pulls back to re veal rh at
we've h<.: e n seeing a telev ision sc reen w irhout a ny pictur e, a wom an
sc re;l m~, fll\ l l.1n lXC; pIunges in to rh\; tdl'v isi, 111 . J--!l:rc. nnt onlv does th e

17H Ol f I M~(')~r. 1I1H IJ... v l n LVI. , : lI 129

film reduce the television to a snowy screen tra nsmi tting nothing, but it
also destroys it. The vi olent dea th of Teresa Ba nks (Pamela G idley) in
this scene is simu ltan eous ly the violent d eath of me Twl Peak-- televi
sion series. The opening of Flre f,fla1k with Me thus a nnounces that the
prequel to the series will be fu nd amcntally diffe rent in structure and
theme. The difference manifests itself most clirec tl y in the perspective
from which we experience the town of Twin Pe; ks.
In the television seri es, Lau ra Palme r serve s as a structuring absence
that organizes the desire of the other characters and the spectator (who
wants both to understand Laura and to fin d the solution to her mur
der).! Her dcsire is the im possible object, th e objet petit a: the series fol
lows th e investiga tion of FBI Special Agent D ale C ooper (Kyle ~1ac
Lachlan) into Laura's murder, but the actual focus for Cooper and
viewers is Laura he rsel f, specifically w hat she desired. The investiga
tion leads C ooper to all of Laura's friend s, acquainta nces, and lovers,
yet leaves viewe rs in the da rk about the location of her desire. Each
character thinks tha.t she or he ha s a pri vileged io sigb t in to Laura's de
sire, but no one offers an adcquate answcr. She remains, even after the
solution of her murder, l myste ry to be sol ved. lnsofar as sh e exists just
outsi d c ou r g r; sp, she embodi es th e impossible object.
T he series focus es on L; ura because she seems to represent pe rfecdy
the p red ominan! fanta sy of feminini ty. She is popu lar, sm a rt, gene rous,
attract ive, and sexy, yet she retains a sense of in nocence. Sh e occu pies a
cenrral place in the fantasies of the rn en (and wornen) of Tw in Peak s,
wh ich has th e appea.ra nce ofbei ng a m ythicaUy perfect American small
to wn . Lynch places Laura and her desire at [h e center (lf the series and
the film to ex plo re the fa ntasy structure that conti nues to shape A meri
can society.
In Fire Walk with Me, Lau ra continues to embody the im possihlc ob
ject, but the d ifference between the series and film resides in the loea
tion of this obj ect. Where the series lea ves it perpetually ou t of reach,
the film allows tb is absent object to beco me presen t. Rather than re
maini ng a mystery that we can desirea nd fan tasize abou t, Laura Palm er
becomes a fully reali zed cha racte r. Acco rding to Michel Chion, her
character, in cont rast w ith the other characters in the fi lm, see rn s real.
He says, "I n th is 'vvorl cl of cha racler types, rhl' " n..: fl gll n.: whicn ord i
narily would be tre; teo li ke an image-objl.'cl , 1.,11 1r.1 1\lIl1l<' r, and yet it
is her charac ter which Ly nch wis hc.:d tll l'n "' II ! " d'":1 dll l t:I I ~ i C)ns,"2
n ci 1111 I MPO~S IIH( OAY I O I Y"'C II
Th is tb ree-d im ensional po rtrait stands out all the more vi hen we con
tras t it with the way that rhe television se ries treat!> Laura.
Through the de picti on of La ura Palmer in the fil m, Ly nch subjec
ti vizes the im possihle ohjec r-cause of d csire, and he allows liS to experi
ence from the perspec ti ve of rhe object itsel f. P ut a nothe r way, the
object-cause of desire in this fi lm cannot be regarded merel y as an ob
ject as it can in m ost o ther fil ms. This reve rsal ma rks th e raoical inno
vation of Fire Wa1k wlth Me and mak es it Lyn ch's m ost im po rtant and
original film. W here Ly nch's oth er films pe rmit a m omen tary encou n
ter witll th e impossible obj ect, tb is fi lm constru cts Ollr expe ri ence
through it. T he im possible act occurs throughout the experie nce of
wa tching the fi lm . T hrough its deploym ent of th e fa ntasy surrounding
Laura Palm er, rhe fil m places us in the im possi blc perspective of tbe
object within this fa n tasy. Fro m this perspective, w e g rasp tbe specula
tive ide ntity between subject and obj ect. W ha tever Jiffercnce we w ant
to attribu te to the impossihle object disappea rs in the closcd circuit of
this type of iden tity. In the act of experiencing fro m the perspective of
the im possi ble object, we do not sim ply come to recogn ize th e objecti
fi ed woman as "a coherent pe rson ."3 Mic hel C hion 's cla im that Lynch
port rays Laura as a t hree-dim en sion al cha racter doe~ not go far enough.
J would arg ue instead tha t Laura is a fully rcali zed subject in rhe film
insofa r as we see the hole inside her. At the core o f her sub jectivity ex
ist~ a fund amen tal emptiness, a nd no one in the fil m is able to relate to
her or COll11ect with he r because of m is emptiness,
Even though La ura occu pies the posi tion 01' rhe ta nta sy object, she
doesn 't fi no any fulf1 l1 men t or sensc of identity fr o m the role. She em
bodi es the ideal of contempora ry Ameri can fcmale beau ty, yet she de
ri ves no enj oyme n t fro m the positi on d1at he r attractiveness allows hcr.
W hat stands out abou t he r is prec isel y her in abi lity to find any of the
roles available to her sarj sfying. She moves throug h a v;u iety of roles
hornecoming queen, gi rl friend of a football star, whor e, drug user,
m eals-on -wheels volun teer, and so on-but cannot full y iov est herself
in aoy of them. She inhabits each brieAy an d easi ly shifts to another,
even w hen this orher role cont raclicts tb e earl e r oo e. She can, for in
stance, mock her seeret love r James (Jam es Marshall) de risivel y one in
stan t, and an instant later gen uinel y ex press love fo r bim. T he fi lm does
not prese nt thi s type of acti vity as an indi catio[l o f Laura 's hr poc risy:
she doesn' t inbabi t one identi ty and Ihl' lI h YPllcr li c dl), fc ign th at she
I \'>Jl I "1 "'K', : "lIi,' WA ! ~ W I rH Me u I
inhabits anothe r. Her ~ubjectivity is an em ptim:~$ th al remains irred uc
ible to an y ide ntity.4
Lynch con veys the em ptiness of Laura 's sub jectivity th rough dle
perfor ma nce o f Sheryl Lee, whom criti ~, ha ve rig htl y applaurl ed for
her portrayal of La ura. N ot ooly does Le(! movc almost instantaneously
from the attitucle of the spiteful vamp ro the lov ing girlfri end , but she
does so in a wa y that m ak es clear that beneath the differcnt identities is
a void rathe r tha n a coherent personal ity. She destroys the fantas y im
age that fn s of the telev ision series bring to the film, rev cal ing that
Laura does not really ha ve the hidden allure that others im agine he r to
ha ve.) This becomes visible only beca use Lynch immerses us fully in
thc fanta sy from her perspecti ve.
Lee's performance illustrates that the inadequacy of the idenLiti es
avai lable to he r is not the rcsult ofL:lUra's fu llness of characte r that can
not be so narrowly confined but instcad results from l fund amental ab
sence. The object at the ccnter of our most profound cultural fa ntasy
has an em ptincss where th e fantas )' posits a fullness . When La ura
adopts an id enrity, the absence transfonns into an ilimo ry pre scnce thar
can deceive other characters bu t not the spec tator. Lynch shoo ts (hese
transfo rmations specifically to make us awa re of them . T his becomes
m os t striking in two scenes, one involving her boyfriend Bobby (Dana
Ashbrook) near rh e beginning of the film and the othc r involving James
near me end .
On the fi rs t d ay we see La u ra, she has sex c1 and esti nely with James at
school w hi le Bobby sea rches for her. W hen he fi na lly sees he r walking
hom e, Bobby accnsts La u ra fo r disappearing anJ d emands to know
whe re she was. A look of con tempt comes ove r Laura's face, and she
says, "1 wa s standing righ r beh ind you, but )'ou're too dumb ro tu rn
around," and then says ro her frien d D onna (Moira Kell y), "If he turnccl
around, he might get dzzy." As she speaks, Laura begins to chuckle,
and Bobby resumes his q uestioning: "Wh ere we re you r l'm not k id ding
around. W ho were you with? " Rather than appease him , La ura simply
tells Bobby to "Ge t lost." Bu t when he threatens ro break off their rel a
tionship, she undergoes a com plete transfo rm aLion. H er mocki ng look
disappea rs, and she Wlres at hi m w ith a half-srn ile "nel glazcd look . She
says, "Come o n, Bobby. Come cm. Come fllI.' Thi~ c ""n~t. ,) r!ll:a rt :.J Ic
viates Bobby's wor ry, all()wing h im !o wall-. .1\\';1). 11' 'I'ping ;!rll llnd w ith
excitement an J professing h i ~ gn::I! lo\( 1"1 111" I
13 2 TH' IMPOSS I ULl OAV IIi 1 YNC 1I
What stands out about this ~ccn is the posture that Laura ado pts af
te r her change of heart. Tbe look tha t she gives Bobby is no! w hat we
would expect: rather than looking directly into his eyes to consolc him ,
she sta res straight ah ead at his chest, ncver once mak ing e)'e con tact
with him. Lync'h shoots the conve rsarion in a standard shotlreve rse
shot manner that mak cs dea r m e seem ing misalignm ent of her look.
This look testifies to Laura's absence of personality. It is almost as ifshe
ca nnot look i.nto Bobby's eyes because she has no coherent position
w ithin hersel f from w hich she could mak e normal intersubjecti ve con
tact with another pe rso noT his absence of personal ir)' colors the content
of her consolation. Shc doesn't tel l Bobby w here she has bec n or even
tha t she loves him. She sim pl y repeats the mea n ingless p h rase "come
on." At the mom ent Laura appears to be rcad y to re"eal hersclf to
someone, she reveals instea d that she has nothing to rev ca l.
The later scene w ith James follows a rem arkably simil ar traj ec tor)'.
After James exp resses h is cles ire to save L a ura , she slaps him and pro
c1aims her con tem p t for his sentimenta lity. S ut again she u ndergoes a n
instantaneous transfo rm ation and takes James into her coofidcnce:
"You don 't ev en kno w m e. T hcre are things about me ... Even Donna
J OCSl1 't kno w m e." W hi le saying this, sh e looks over Jam es's head, not
into hi s eyes. Whcn she fin ally looks d own and makes eye contact, it is
n ly to in form hi m that she isn't there. She ~ay s , "Yo ur La ura has d isap
pea red." James tries to com fort her, but she again changes her attitude,
giving him the gesru re of the m id dle fi nge r an d say ing wit h di sdain, "1
th ink you wanl to take m e home now. " Each Lim e that Bobby o r James
tries to conoect Wilh her as a coherent person, she responds by sho\-ving
them-anJ us as spectato rs-th at she has no such id entity w ith which
to conn eet. As a pure void, she lacks the symbolic anchoring tha t other
characters in the film bdievc th ey huye.
The cultural fantasy su rro un ding someone li ke Laura Palmer cle
pends on u belief in her pl enitudc. Sbe inspires male (ancl fem alc)
d rea ms beca use she seems to be th e perfcct woman and to embody a
m ysterious knowledge of [he ultimate enj oyme nt. But benea th this im
age of perfection Pire Wa1k with Me reveals not just a fl awed real ty, but
an em pti ness. A fl awed L aura woul d nOll rish the m ym by h umaniz ing
the object, nnu it wOLll d all ow us as spectalors to red compassion for
he r. Bur a n Im !,! ), Lnura Ie:wes the specta tfl!" nI) stl ch o u Lier. A nd yet,
Lomra i ~ Ih, t 11 1T .d ligur<; thmug h w h id, Wl l' llg.lgl' Ihe fil m. In cloi ng
j
IW/ N ~t,.K~ l " " W~ I k IV I 11' MI 133
so, we id enti fy not w ith her as a substantial char acter but w ith her as an
emptiness, expe riencing the impossible perspecti ve of the absent object.
Lynch is not sh attering th e cen tral Ame rican cu ltural fantasy bu t cle
manding th at we endure the objective position w ithin it.
A conve rsation between Laura a nd Donn a early in the film reveals
Laura's lack of anchoring and her awa reness of it. Don na ask s Laura,
"Do you think if you were falling in space you would slow clown after
a while or keep going fa ster a ncl faster: " La ura responds, "Fa ster ano
faster. For a long tim e ydu wouldn't feel anythi ng. Then you woulo
burst into fire-forever. And th e angels wouldn't help you, 'cause
they've all gone away." The mise-en-sd: ne here add s to the idea that
Laura is falling through space: during the entire conversation, shc les
drooping over the arms of a chair in her parents' living room, whch
gves her the appearance of floatng in air. Just a fte r D onna asks ha
question , Lyn ch ineludes a cl ose-up of Laura as she gulps, registering
her awarencss ofher statu s as a subject. The image ofthc gul p registers
emptincss in a way that no sign ifie r ca n, suggest ing it rathe r than tryng
ro name it. T his exch ange anti cipates remarkably the path that Laura
follows in the film. Unlike D onna, Laura has nothing to slow her down
or stop her from falling; she exists without any exte rnal authority that
m ight stabili ze her.
The emptiness of Laura 's subjectiv ity stems from the contradictions
that her position as the im possible obj ec t-cause of desire forces her ro live
out. She grasps the illusory nature of e<lch ident ty beca use she simulta
neously expe rien ces its opposi te. l o a sense, having too much identity
permits he r to exist without id entity. She embodies in one person all th~
contradi ctory mate fantasies abou r women: she is innocent, aod she s :1
whore; she is th e hom ecornin g q ueen , and she is ad clicted lO coca ine; ,he
is a lovin g m aternal figu re, an d she is a cold-bloodecl mani pularor. The
foundational opposition hcre is that of the virgin :mcl whore, and mate
fantasy works by id entifyi ng di ffe rent women in each of these positiom.
By collapsi ng the two, b y de picting the idcnti ty o f the virgin anel tlw
whorc, Lynch brings th e two separate fan ta$y workls of n lue Velvet- tll<"
stabilizing fantasy and the threa tening fa nta sy- into one. The result is a
fantas)' ob ject th ar he comes destabilizing fur evcryofl l" who encountn .. il
nsofa ra s i t can not he red uced 10 e tll<.: r PI" I 1.1: " 1'1 'iI.. it iClI1S.
Laura'sfirst a ppearance in Ihl Jillll pi"", \\'1 111 "1I'~(CJl'rmitiuns. T he
film's first shots of hcr prcsl' nl hl~ f" 111 1 ' IMII,III. h 1.I, .d i/eL! \Vlly. 1" .1
134 1 li t' IMI'Ob51Ull IIA VII.! ni l~ (; 1I
trac k ing shot, \Ve se e he r walking to school down the sid ewalk of an
idylli c neighborhoo cl with leafy trees hanging ove r the sidewalk ancl
perfcct g rec n lawns. She hold s her hooks crad led against her ch es t, a
posture suggestive o f schoolgirl innocencc. She goes by the house ofher
best frend Donna to pick her up on the way ro schoo1. J n 1ddition to
th e vsuals of this scene, the sou nd trac k plays the sentimental "Twin
Peaks Thcme," w h ic h contrihutes to the id ea li zatio n of La ura. Lynch
uses the conjunction between th e visual a nd a ud o tracks to buil d up
the ideal that will quickJy tu rn in to its opposite. Very soon after arriv
ing at the high school, Laura betrays this id eal iza tion : she leaves Donna
and snorts cocaine in a bathroom stal\. The traj ec tory of this sequence
aims ve ry explicitly to esta blsh La ura in the role of the id eaJized high
school girl and subsequently und errnin e this im age. W h at the sequen ce
shows is not that Laura s rca lly a d rug user and n ot an innoce nt school
g i rl; she s both at th e sarne timc.
Jn the figure of Lau ra, rhe fan tasy of th e pu re virgina l wom an coin
ci des with the fanta:;y of the licenti ous anu sexuall y a vail ~lbl e wom an in
order to reveal h ow both fanta sy figu res are ulti m ately tbe sarne. Fire
Wa1k with Me takes liS so far into the p rcdominan t fan tasy thar we see
the dual nature of ies a bj ect. T hi s is precisely th e recogni tion tha t patri
archal id eo logy w il! not all ow and that rhe patria rcha l su bject cann ot
tolerare: to see th e speculat ive den tity of these two figu res is to see im
purity even in the u ltim ate pu ri ty, anJ vice versa. Slructu ra lly, both lhe
vi rgin and thc who re occ upy rhe S<ll11 e posirion, and fantasies inv ol ving
lhe one always have the other existing in the bac kground. The point is
not th at one recognizes a virgin onl y through the con trast with a w hore
(though this is certa nly the case) but that one onl )' enj oys the fantasy of
the vi rg in when the idea th at she is actually a \Vhore sil en tly accornpa
nies this fanta sy-and the reverse s true for enjoy ing the fa ntas)' of
the w hore. Eve n wi thn the rea lm offa ntas)', enj oy rnent depends on the
idea of som ething more benea th the object-th e hidden secret of the
object. 1n this sen se, fa ntasy as we typ icall y experience it does n't rcvea l
secrets bu t pe rpetuates rhe m by doubling itself ioto th e d eal and the
nigh tmar e, each containing the oth er h idden within ir.
T his do uhlcd aspect of fa otasy in fo rrns the structure of Blue Velvet.
Iloweve r, in I har film , \Ve sce how lhe t\Vo fantasy wo rlds- th e id eal and
I he nightrna n p: lr:dkl c:ach tlthn alld h"w Ca eh works to d o mes tica te
dc,i rt:. Fi/"(, If ;,;,- tUI/h ,\1/. d h 'ClS .1 le ;! !, " " W:II el in IIll d crstanding the re
1,1'1
lationship between these two types offantasy. It reveals their intcrdepe n
dence aod ul timate identity.6 The latter film ev iscerates aU the distinc
tions that our fantasies typically enact and th riv e on. The faotasy of the
ideal and the fantasy ofthe nightma re remain pleasurable for the subject
only insofar as they remain distinct. This is why Pire Wa1k with Me-and
its depiction ofLa ura Palmer in particular-is so disturbing. By filming
r.ire Wa1k with Me fr om the perspeotive of the subjectivized impossible
object, Lynch offers us the opportunity to identify with it. In the act of
doing so, we would recognize the identity of the ideal and the nightmare.
Tb is is a recogn ition that Laura herselfmust make along with us as spec
tators , a nd it marks the possibility of an ethical subjectivity.
The Hostility o f Deer Meadow
Once L a ura Palmer appears thirty minutes into Pire Walk with '.,fe, the
form of th e film undergoes a dramatic cbange. After the murder ofTe
resa Banks that opens the film, Flre Wa1k with Me opeos into a worlld of
surfaces io which we neve r unravel the myste ries that these surfaces
seem to hide . Ev c l1 for those who have seen the televisioo series, the
first part of the film retains a sense of impe nerrability. From the opcn
ing scene depicting Agent C hester "Chet" Desmond (C hris Isaak ) ar
resting sex ily atti red wome n outside a school bus of scream ing children
to Da le Coope r's discove ry of "Let's Rock " w ritten across me wind
shiel d of C het's aba ndoned ca r, the even ts that occu r he re d efy explana
tion w ithi n the terms th at ch is part of th e film itself offers. It is only
when we view it throug h the len s of the secon d part- the world of
fantasy- th a t it begin s to m3 k e more sense.
After the familiar o pening shot of the "Welcome to Twin Pea ks"
sign , th e second par t ofthe film begins wi th the irnage ofLaura Palmer.
Subsequentl y, Laura d ominates this part of th e film, appearing in al
most every scene. T he impossiblc object appears as a prcscnce. In con
tras t, th e first part of the fi lm begins with the murder of Teresa Banks
and a shot of he r body w rapped in pla stic and floating on a river-the
sacrifice of th e p ri viJ eged object constituting it as J n absence. L ynch
emphasi zes th e constitutive role ofTeres:l Ba n ks in rhis $cction th roug h
the unusual use of a ca ptio n. W he n w!.: '1; 1; Ihl' 1 1():IIIrI~ hlld Y.:l ca ption
stating "Tcresa Ban ks" <l ppca rs illlh!.: "llI ln" , " ,1 11 .. 1 1111 ~ ll ccn. Th is is
unusu al on two (Ou nts: Il rsl. Ih( 1".1 pi u ' " l' .'" 1."111111'" ' 1111 .I me FBI Re
':0/. TII( IM~O'.:' ll lll fJ .... V I D I V ~ Ir:1l
g ional Burea u C hief Go rdon C ole (D<lvicl Lynch) almost irnmedial:ely
id en tifi es me m urdcr victi m in hi s convers,'uioD w ith C het Desmond,
and , second, cin cma tic convention dictares t bar a caprion would be useo
in this insta nce to id enti fy lhe phlc e whe re th e bod y is fl oating, not the
nam e of the vic tim he rsdf.7 Th i,s mino r roying w itn con ve ntion o n
Lyn ch 's part- a nd me use of an id en tifyi ng caption itsclf, which sug
gests docum enta r y authenticity-st:Ives to emphasizc [he status ofTe
resa Banks here. Teresa Bank s hecom es rhe absent ohject-cause of oe
sire, a nd the enrirety of the fi rsl pan of the fil m focuses on in vestigating
her. He r absence opeos up other myste ries, but she remains at the cen
ter ofthe film .
Whe reas the second part of the fil m sub jectiv izes the impossi ble ob
ject, the fi rst pa rt leaves th is object com pletely ~lbse n r. He re, Lync h con
structs a world o f d esire in w hich every im age a nd situation seems
threatening because the cha racters (and we as specta to rs) see it w ithou t
a n y fa ntasmatic de pth. W hat we sce in the fi rst part of th e film, the di
lap id ated and hostile to w n of Dcer Meadow, Co ntrasts negatively with
the p ristine and hospitable town ofTw in Peaks. A:; David H ughes puts
it, "Lynch gave th e town a sh ad ow self in Deer Meadow, w ith its cor
rup t and bc llige rcnt police for ce (contrasting wim thc Twin Peaks she r
iff and his depu ries), a diner with <In unrk asa nt hostcss a nd n o special
(a far cry from the 'Doublc R ' d ne r), and a sleazy and unkem pt trailer
par k (aboLlr as far fr0111 th e lux u rious Grca t Nortbe rn as you coulo
get)."s The malevolencc of Dcer Meadow em e rges in response to the
experience ofl ack that pred om inates the re. AI I of the cna racte rs experi
e nce the absence of the privileged ob ject and suspect others of either
try ing to steal o r h av ing stolcn what little enjoym ent th ey do have.
In the sce nes in the trailer park w here Teresa Banks lived, we sce the
rampant d issatis faction an d hostility thar runs throug hout the wo rld of
d esire. Here, th e trailers a re in a d il apidated condition, and the tenants
lack even the most basic necess ities. While Chet Desmond and Sam
Stanley (Keife r Su therland) are talking Wilh Ca rl Rod d (Harry D ean
Stanton), the manage r, a woma n li ving lhere approaches Carl and com
plai ns about he r pe rsistent lack of hot wa te r. The wri ti ng on the door of
Ca r! ':; trailcr indicates his lack of rece pti vity to sLlch compl aints and to
all interactinn with Ihe O th er. Il [(~a J~ , "DO NOT E VER DlST URB
BEFO RE q , lM .. EVER." W hen Agt: nl s Dtsmnn d :l m l Sta nl ey k nock
;>n C al 1', 11.11 1, r 11l lllfl' C) A.M" rhcy dr ' l w tlw i r h:l d j.!;t ~ in response t Cl lhe
\VAL ( ~'II Tfj M~ 1:11
threat irnplied by the sign and by Carl's loud and a ngry grurnbling in
side. Carl initially pereei ves ancl is perceived b y lh \! O rhe r as a th reat , a n
attitudc that characterizes a world of desire.
Thc absence of a fantasrnaric dirne mion t th i~ w orld creates a sense
of distance betwee n the spectator and all the charactc rs, ev en the hero of
the first part of the film, Agent Ch ester Des m a nd . T hough the film
aligns us as spectators with Chet because he heads the in vestigation, it
also alienates u s fr o m him when we see his bc ha vior. He mirrors the
threatening posture that others Jemonstrate to him, going so far as ro
twist the nose of a hostile dcputy in the Deer Meadovv she riff's office.
What's more, he arnuses himself at the expense of his na'iv e cow orker,
Agent Sam Sta n ley, w ho evinces no hostility toward him. At H ap's
Diner, we see a shotofChetlooking atSam's arm holding a cup of coffee.
He then asks Sam for the tirne, knowing that Sam w ill turn his wrist in
stinctivcly in order to check his w a tch, which would cause him to spill h is
coffee (and this is what occurs). Through the d epiction of this other wise
insignificmt action, the film shows us that even rh e hero partakes of the
generalizeJ hostility in th is world. D istance separates us from e very
cha racte r, just as it sepa rates the characters from each other.
The world or desire that Lync h consCructs is a world in which sub
jects expe ri e nce the ir al ienation in the signifie r w ithout the res pite o f
fantasy. Subjects exist on the leve! of the signifier alone. As a resul t,
an idea is encoded for no reason othe r than fo r che slmple act of encod
ing itself. This is becausc the act of encoding-the act of p rodu cing a
signifie r-is the only type of e n joy ment th <lt one can experie nce in this
w o rld. Gord o n C ole uses a d a nci ng w oman, Lil (K imberly A nn C o le),
as acode to explain the Teresa Banks case to A gents Che t Desmo no
and Sam St<lnley. As they drive to D ee r M eadow afte r seeing Lil's pe r
formance , C het deciphe rs the code w ith Sam. A mong othe r things, he
te!ls Sam tha t G ordo n Co le has indicated th e local a uthorities wo n 't be
cooper:uive, that the sheriff's unde is in a federal prison, that the case
wiU involve a great d cal of legwork. The problcm w ith this coding ane!
decoding is that n one of this informa tion requircs a cocle in the 6 rst
place. If, as som e viewers of the film postula re, Cole w as wo rr ied about
someone ove rheariog bim due [O his hahit of spcaki ng loudl y, he co uId
ha ve simply w ritten th is informatio!1 str;lig h tt()rwardl y in a repo n
or note ro C h et and Sam . N nth ing 11 ' " (''' II. I Ie '' ;1 (lIde bccau!>e Cok
isn't l'ry ing to c!t:c('ive a nvo m'; 111' , " tql h , 1<11 . ( IlId Illhlllllhu:d ly
1;'11 1111 I MrO~~ I ~ l r DAVIIl IvHCII
e njoys- the code for its own sak c, Thc.:n: is, strictly speaking, no reason
for it except enjoymcnr.
Cole's near-total deafness fu rthc r acccntuatcs the enjoyment that oc
cu rs in the act of signification o u ri ng Lhis pa rt o f rhe film. Because Cole
cannot h ea r well, he screams w he n e ng aging in conversation, neve r
once talking in <l no rmal tone. Cok'!> sc rl.'a ms dra w o ur attention-and
the :tttention of the other cha racrcrs in the film-not to wa ro what he
sa ys but to wa rd the exaggeratecl ac t of speak ing itse!f. C ole fits per
fectly within the wo rld of d esi re beca use he ex ists for us as spectators on
the .leve! of the signifie r rathe r than on the leve! of th e signified. In this
sense, h is d ea fness corresponds di rectly to h is prodiv ity for using ob
scure and unnecessary codeso
The senseless e nj oyment o f significaton itsclf ex tend s beyond Gor
don C ole to other characters in th e first part of the film. At Hap's Diner
where T e resa Ban ks worked, Cheste r Des mond and Sam Stanl e y ques
ti o n Ire ne (Sanclra K inder), the hostcss. D uring the ir conversation,
Ire ne bllilds up th e dcsire of the in ves tiga rors (and the spec tator) by
creating the id ea th at the re is somcthing to be known when there is ac
tual ly nothing. S he te mpts C het and Sa m by hinting tha t she has a the
ory a bou t the kil ling o f Tere sa Banks, bu t he r th eo ry is simply thal " her
death w as wh at you 'd ca ll a freak acciden t." Jren e e ven ad o pts this sa m e
tac k w hen tak ing th e age nts' food orde r. She asks the m , "You want to
h ea r abollt o ur specials r" W he n th ey n od, she contin ues, "We don 't
h ave any." In both of these cases, Ire ne d eliberate1y crea tes a d esire that
sh e knows w il! not be sa ti sfied; she c reates a desire knowi n g that the re
is nothi ng-no-th ing, th e objet petit a -that could sa tisfy ir.
One of the patrons ae Hap's intc rrllpts the agents' inte rview o fI rene
with a statement that functions in the way that Ire ne's statements do.
Fro m a ra bie across the di ne r, the man says in l raised voice, "Are you
talk ing abo ut that little girl that got murdered? " Ljke 1rene 's commcnt
Lhat she has a theo ry about the killing, this question contains withi n itrhe
prom ise of sorne re vela ti on. But w hen Chet asks him if he knows any
thing about the murder, the man responds, "1 k now shi t from shinola," l
response thatdea rly tell s nothing a mI reveals that th e m a n k nows noth
ing (even as it seerns to promisc thar he docs kno w som eth ing). T he man
subscq ue nt! y repea ts h is o r igina l ljuestiq n , b\lt C he t ignores him th e sec
ond linK 1)l'Cal l 'i~ la: kn ()w~ tb:n the <]u<':\ , i(1II i ~ l flo l t illj.; ; Flct ivn ro CO ll
cca l tila' lh, ' 11 ,1 11 " ld d ing nOlh ing. A s ( ' .!t, < R 1 k !l( ,i lll" II U I, " in [)cer
,WIII I:IV
Meadow, the sec rct is on the surface. There is no depth here, just the de
sire that w il! not fit inro t.hci r lacking dialogue."9 Both this old man at
Hap's and Irene resemble C ordon Cole insof as all [hree use [he signi
fier [O crea te a sense of mystery wh ere non e exists.
The world of d esi re that Lynch crea tes in Pire Walk with Me is oot a
world where enjoym en t sc:e m s completely absent. T his distinguishes
Pire Walk with Me from rus
three subsequent fi lrns, a1l of whieh foeus
entirely on the extreme dissatisfaction that predom inatesin this realm,
in the experience ofthe social reality without recourse to fantasy. In this
film, Lyneh revea ls that a certain kind of enjoyment is possible w ithout
fantasy. Though, as Laean puts it, "the signifier is what brings jouis
sanee to a halt," there is also a eertain jouissance that correspond s to the
act of signification itself.IO The characters in the first part of the film ac
ces s thi s type of enjoyrnent, even though their world laeks the enjoy
ment that derives from fantasy. The presence of this enjoyment of the
signifier itself gives the first part of the film a jense of mystcry. This
senseless en joyment of sense-making crcates the impression of hidden
depths and a sec ret knowledge , but as long as we remain w it hin th e
world of desire, the seeret is ineffabl e. O ne could watch the firs t th irry
minutes ofFire Walk with Me on its ow n m ultiple times and never solve
its mysterics beca use it creates m ysteries th at exist for their Qwn sake. It
is on1y when the film mov es to Twi n Peak s and the worle! of fantasy
that we can fill in the gaps of the wo rld of desire.
Incest as the Fanta smatic Solution
One of the ehief compl aints about Fre Walk with Me is its lack of coher
cnce, the disconnection between [he first and second parts of the film .
Jeff Johnson notes that "the aesthetie integr ity o f the narrative in Pire
Walk with Me is seriously Aawed ,"11 and eve o a proponeot of the film
li ke M ichel C hion admits th at "formally, the fi lm does not suceeed in
joining togethc r all its disparate elements."12 Bu t whe n we understand
the two parts of rhe fil m as con tras ting worl ds of desire and fantasy, this
incoherence disappears, anel \Ve can see ho...\'" t he sccond pa rt of tbe film
provides a fantasma tic solution to tbc qu~stin n rh.\t tht: iirsl part poses.
The story of Laura Palmer's bst o a)'s .. IIClw\ 11', 1" " 1.11.(' M' n se of the
murder of Teresa B:JO ks an o dI!" d i\;'ppu,"II 'I' Id ( iI.'\tc-r Dc~mo nd .
Lynch u~cs the rurn rn t ht 1. IIII.I\ y \VIII Id l. .r "l"" 111 I \ ,dt, tI! " '(pose the
' .0 Tll l I MrQ , '.1111 f '~ ... VIII 1\'11,; ,
structural conditions und crl ying Ihe oppressive and violent social rea l
iry represe ntee! by Deer Meado w.
Where the d eployment offanta.~ y in Eraserhead (1977) reveals the sac
rifiee at the origin ofcapitalist reproduction, in Pire Wa1k with Me it illus
trates the invisible forc es that cre He a hostilc soc ial reality. Beeause fan
tasy narra tes th e oissatisfaction of rhe social rea lity to render it satisfying,
it has the ability to ex pose what our ord inary ex perience of this reality
obseures. The sccond part ()f Pire Walk with Me, the e1aboration of the
fantasy wo rle!, expla in s w hy place s like Deer Meadow are so threaten ing
and why wom en like Teresa Banks are murdered. But the fantas)' ha s
this explanatory powe r only i050f r as L ynch foll ows it to its end point.
Just on the \evel of the film's na rrative alone, the faotas)' world of
Twin Peaks sol ves the mystery o f Teresa Ba nks' murder in a very
straightforward way. Through Lelano Palmer's fl ashback, we lea rn
that Le1and (Ray Wise), inhabited by BOB (F rank Silva), killed Teresa
Banks after sh e set up a sexual rendezvous w ith hersel f, L eland, and
two girls, Ol1e of whom turns out ro be Laura. Lynch shows Leland
wa lking to the m otel room, and as he turns a co rner he sees Laura aDd
Ronette Pulaski (Phoebe Augustine) si tting on the bed talking. Before
we sec him retrear, Lynch intersperses a brief c1ose-up of L aura laug h
ing. LeJand paces away from the room, an d then Lynch juxta poses a
c1ose-up of L eland 's pa ni cked faee foll owed by anothe r close-up of
L aura laugh ing. W hen Teresa taps hi m on th e sho ulder, we see Lela nd
bet ray his panic to he r by te1li ng her that he can't pa rticipate, that he
"chickened out." Seei ng Leland 's a brupt reactio n, Teresa suspects that
Leland k no ws one of the girl s, aDd, a fter learn ing about his rd ation to
L aura, begins to blackmail him. Ir is at this point that he kills her.
Th is information- that Teresa Bank s found out thar Leland was
che fath er of Laura and threa tened to expose rus
illicit activity to her
and to the public-actua1ly tells us all mat we need to kno w to mak e
seDse of most of the narrati ve com plex ities of the film. Li ke the death of
Lau ra Palm cr later in the film, the cleath of Teresa Ban ks results di
reedy from BOB's absolllte aversion to publicity. BO B kills only w hen
the woman he is enj oy ing threa tens to expose his act iv ity. But th is is not
al1 act of self-protection on BOB's part; as t h e embodi ment of a psychic
force , he need not worry about bcing arresled or going lO jail. Pub liei ty
does encl;tllgcr not BOB's Liberty so much :l S his mnd e of procuring
en joYllll lIl .
I Wlr l r[",~:" 'I~~ W"'I~ W I" MI 11/
 The ftlm prescnts BOB as a tra nseenuent force that opera tes through
subjects w itho ut rega rd for the restrai nts that limit human behavior.
Hi s a ppearanee suggests his status in the 11'lm: he has long stringy gra)(
hair, a straggly bea rd , anu wide m alevo lent-I oo king eycs. The film 's
form registcrs h is disturbing and unreal presenee. When Laura sees
him looking fo r her diary hehind hc r bed, he a ppea rs in a series of quiek
jump euts. Late r, when he is ra ping her, the fil m euts hack a nd forth
hetween the im agc of BOB and Leland. His a ppearanees disrupt the
form of the fi lm itself and the spce tator's pleasure in view ing.
BO B's cnjoyment stems from illicit sexual and violent e ncounters.
But he enjoys himsel f only as lo ng as his id entity rem ains sec ret, whieh
is why Ly nch o nl y all ovvs the speetato r to see him for an extenued pe
ri od of tim e in the otherworldly Red Room. He kills Teresa Bank s
w hen she di seovers w ho Lela nd is and kills Laura when she recognizes
the eonneeti on betwee n BO B and her father. In both ca ses, he re sorts to
ki lling in ord e r to rem ain un exposed. Both BOB's resistance to public
ity an d his ability to tra nsgress prohibitions suggests, 1 \vould argue,
'. that he oecu pies a position outsid e the system of signification a nd its
ru les. T h is is th e position of the exception al signil1 er, the sign ifi er of ex
eeption, w hat psyehoanalysis calls the phallus. The phallus, accoruing
to Lacan, "ca n pla y its role on ly when veil ed."'3 Any publicity threatens
the poteney of the pha ll us because its powe r is illusory. Its posture o f
autonom y m as ks its de pend ence o n the soeietal O ther.
The positi on of ph alli c au th o rity carri es with it an illu sion of inde
pend en ce. W e bel icve that th is au thority ru les thro ugh its greate r
strength an d su peri o r force of wil! . But it rem ains fundamen tally de
pende nt on th e su pport that the socia l o rder as a whole provid es for it.
Colleetive obedienee instills ~111 air of invincibil ity in the fig ure of phal
lie authori ty. rf it ever loses th is support, it loses the entirety of its pow er
and disi ntegrates. But public su pport depcnds on no one's reeogniz ing
the illusory nature of the pha llie autho rity's powe r. Such a recognition
would rend er eoll ee tive obedience impossible, w hich is why the phallus
requires the vei!.
The assoei ation of BOB w ith the p hallus suggt:sts w hy M rs. Trem
ond's g ranJ soo appea rs wearing a phnlli l m;l$k (a lIlask wilh ao e1 on
g:lted nose). He ap pea rs at th e II1nl11 e lll~ illlhl Id 'l1 ",111'11 BOR is on che
verge o f bci ng ~x posc d-for i m l. ff Il'!. W Ir l/! 1_11:'1lid \1"1" Laura in rlw
m otel roo m w hen he \h ll w~ u p ", , 11 1 '11 ~.\' ~l ,"d III} 11 111\ lI'vt:a ls 10 liS
i ~2 1111 I MI'O~';II I l! : u "v i (' NH
the precari ous statu s ofthe pha ll us. Benearh rhe m ask there exists not
the powe rfu l fif,ru re of BOB b Ul i ll ~t: 1 licue powerl ess boyoT he image of
Mrs. T rem oDd's g rand so n wearing lhe pballi c rnask illustrates that
phallie power is nothi ng bUl lhe m as k. q
T h roug hout m e fi rs t pan of the fi lm, BOB rem ains a hidden for ce,
fun ction in g undeteeted throug h Leland. But tbe tu rn to fa ntasy in the
seeon d part of th e fil m exposes th e phallus and un de rmines ts power. r11
fantasy, the pha ll us becom es visible as the figure that enjo)'s without re
striction , the fig u re able to aeeess lhe ulwp proacha ble obj ecL T h is occu rs
through BOB's repeated sexual encou nters with L lU ra. In ord er to ae
cess Laura, BOB lakes the fo rm ofbe r fathe r Lel and . Ofcourse, he coulu
ha ve easily in habired some other m ale fig u re sueh as Bobby Of Ja mes, but
he chooses Lcland. By inha bi ting L cla nd , he transgresses the ultimate
law, the found ing law of society as Such- lhe p rohi bition o f incesto
By d epie ti ng the rd a tionsh ip betwee n Lel and ancl La ura as the fan
tasma tic answcr to the qu estions posed by the worl d of d esire, Lyneh
id entifies fant:lsy as such with incest. Every fantasy is, in a sense, an in
cestuous fantasy: in o rd er to p rovid e en joyment, fa nrasy must enact a
scena rio fo r accessing the privi leged-that i5, the p rohibited--obj ect.
T he subject fantasizes abo ut obuln ing someth ing off-limits, and (he
model [or this objecl is lhe fami lial object that the symbolic law ba rs.
But fan tasy rem aim bea rable for toe su bject on ly in sofar as loe su bject
fas to recognize its inccstuous dim ensiono Thc subjcct m ust deceive it
self co nccrni ng the object's p rox imi ty and sec an object th at is too c1 0se
as existi ng at a safe di stance. Throug b fantasy, th e subjecr accom plishes
rhe impossi ble, en joying an obj ec t thar m ust be sirnultaneously close
and distam.
One of th e prim ary criticisms oEboth the relevision series an d the
fi lm eenters on ch e depiction of inees t and speeificall y BOB's role in it.
rn short, the d epiction o f ROB as !.he perpetuator of the incestuous rape
of Laura lets her actual fath er, Leland Palmer, off th e hook. He be
com es nothi ng bUl the staging g rou nd for th e acti vity of a supernatural
force, not a rapist a nd k iller him sel f. Ir is D iane Hu m e George who
gives thi s cr itique its m as t de tailed elabora rian. She says,
Peaks pa rtici pates in eXClIs ing ma Je violence toward wom en, m y
thologizing their behavio r as possession by ev il forces that origin ate
()u tside oE th<: se! r. Sa fe ly relegated to supernatural and irresis tible
rWIN r EAK.',; I IR" WALK Wl t H ME 14 3
 status- even Coop cannot, in the end, resist the cosmic force rcpre
sented and ernbodied by BOB-the "evil" does not reside in nor
mal , troubled , trag ic hu man livcs, but in helplessly posstssed malc
victims who Jo not know wh:lt they are doing and ca nnor be hcld
responsihle. 15
According to thi s account, Lynch depicts natural beings as nothing but
the victims of the "s upernatural." But thi s critique depends on a nai"vc
interpretation of figures like BO B and the Man From Anothe r Place
(Michael J. Anderson). If we are attentive, Fire Wa lk with Me actuaJly
demonstrates that RO B a nd the Man From A nother Place function as
structural rather th an superna tural forc es. Yes, BO B certainly acts
through L eland, the ordi na ry man, but this in no way exculpates Le
[ando He and other ordi na ry men are guilty for th ei r role in perpetuat
ing the fun ctioning of the structure. 16
The turn from the world of desire to the worl d of fan tasy c1a rifies
the structu ral role that the Red Room plays. In both wo rlds ofthe film ,
it occupies a tran scendent place w here the co nsrrai n ts of time and spacc
don't apply (w hich is w hy Arro ie fHea ther G raham I can a ppea r to
L l.U ra and tell he r about Da le C oope r before Annie has even met D ale).
This transcenden t place exi sts because the syste m of signifiers always
contains a gap that doesn't exist with in that system. T he system pro
duces its own beyond in the forrn of the abse nce tbat ir ca nnor sign ify as
a result oflan guage 's inability ro say eve ryth ing. T he role that Lh is ah
sence pl ay s becomcs dear th roug h the film 's depiction of the Man From
~nother Pl ace .
The fantasy fill s in the gaps in our kn owledge about the Man F rom
Another Place and offers a n expla nati on of the role that he pl ays (borh
in the film and in the telev ision series). He appea rs fi rst w hen Agent
Phillip Jeffr ies (D avid Bowie) brieA y shows up in th e Phi ladelphia FB I
offi ce after hav ing disappea red for three years . Phillip telIs th e agents
there about his exper ience in the room over the con venience storc, anu
as he recoun ts th e expe ri ence, we see a se ries o[ images of this room ,
which contains th e Man F rom Anoth e r Place. Tbe fi rst word that we
hear from him appea rs at the ti me ro he a sign ifi\'r w ithnut ;) sig ni fie d :
"ga rmonboz ia." O ut~i d e of rhe Twin Pl'll/'( II n l VC r\C ', " ).\; 11 lOollbozja" is
a nonsensical word , a wurd wit hllllt 1111 Illillg j lllll ) 1 1111 \\ fI language.
though ir ha, ~rawn cd tn :lIIy 1111 11 1).".1 1111 ;; 1I 11:(II I!:!lI I 'lElIlg '(((1/1/ PnJkJ
14A ., ~II I Mr 'l~ ,Il Il ' II A VI II 1rN e l o
fans as to its lingui stic derivation. Bu r even within the term s of lhe film
itself, the word has no d ca r conncetion (O w hat's go ing on. At this point
in the fi lm , the word is apu re surfa ce for us as spectators and has th e
effect of producing th e d csire fo r tbe absent sen se, which the turn to the
fantas y wo rld provides.
At the cnJ of the film after Lcland ha s kil!ed Laura, the M an F rom
Another Place and MI KE confront BOB and Lel a nd. Together, the
Man From A nother Place and MIK E rc peat the word "garmonbozi a,"
but this ti me it appears within a sentence, w hich provides a con tcxt for
determining its meaning. What's mo re, the subtitles inelud e a transla
tion of the word. Thc Man From Another Place and MIKE say to
gether to BO B and L ela nd, "{ want al! my ga rmonboz ia ," anu the sub
titl e reads, "{ want al! my ga rrnon boz ia (pa in and su ffering) ." W hen he
hea rs this dc mand, 80B touches Leland anu th en makes a thw wing
gesture with h is ha nd, after w hich l spl atte ring o fblood appea rs on the
Roer. Now "ga rmonbozia" ha s a meaning and plays a elear role in the
action of th e film. Here th e function of fantasy hecomes visi ble in a pre
cise way: fantasy fills in the absence that ex ists on the level of rhe signi
fi cd and gives th e signifie r a sense uf depth. T hi s scene within the fa n
tasy not only defi nes w hat was for us a nonsensical term, bu t it aIso
explai ns t he rd ations hip between the Man F rom A no ther Place and
BOB that the n rst pa rt of the fi lm left com pletely a m bi gu ou~ . ' 7
The Struggle Between Life ond Deoth
The Ma n F rom A nothe r P lace defi es explana tion more than any othe r
o f the m my strange cha racters in Pire Wa1k with Me . He d oes nnt resi de
in the onJin ary human wo rld no r does he even make appearances there
li ke BOB. We see him o nly in the otherword ly Red Room. His di minu
tive size and seemi ngl y inex plica ble behav ior-h is unusu al eating hab
i[s, bis dan cing, his strange ~tate m e nts-a ppea r to be nonse nsical fea
tu res of the film, fea tures Ly nch ineludes for their ow n sake. But he
on! y see ms nonsensica l because we as spectators aren't used to watchin g
a fil m th at attempts to explore fantasma tica lly the stru ctures of the un
conscious. T h us, the Man From A nother P lace and rhe film in gene ral
ma ke sense onl y if we tu rn to th e insights of psychoa nalysis .
Wi th in tlw !"nl1tasy world of Fire Walk with Me , we !carn much more
abn ut tIl<" ~1.1I 1 "'''In AnOlher Place than. we do in the fi rst par t of the
! WI N "'A''o ~ II R/. WA I K WITH ME 1<5
film. Assistcd by the picture that M rs. Tremond gives to her, Laura en
ters the Red Room and sees (he Ma n FrolTl A nother P lace and Dale
Coopero The Man From Ao om er Pbce asks, "Do you know w ho 1 am?
1 am the arm and 1 sound like this." H e then makes a whooping sound
by moving his hand back and forth over his mouth. W ith this statc
ment, he identifies himsclf as a body part that exists disconnected from
a body. The nonsensical wh ooping sound suggests his disconnection
from the systcm of signification. When we later see MIKE without an
arm and the Man From Another Place standing where the missing arm
should be, this idea of tbe Man From Anothe r Place as the detached
body part hecomes evcn morc cvident.
According to Lacans understanding of subjectivization, part of the
body detaches itself as a result of the body's submission to the signifier,
which renders the body incom plete. The signifier imposes itsel f on the
subject as a cut on the hody, and thi s detached body part becomes the li
bido, the source of the dri vc in the subject. U nder the sway of the d rive,
the subject seeks this d etached part of the body-"the part of himself,
lost forever, that is constituted by the fact thar he is only a scxed living
being, and that he is no longer imlTlortal.",8 In thj s light, we can unde r
stand The Man F rom Another P lace oceupying the position of the li
bido, the lost body part that institutes the drive in m e other characters.
The drive that the Man From Another Pl ace institutes is the death
drive, a drive that continually returns to and repeats the expe rience of
loss. Because t he experience of 105s originates and continucs to info rm
the drive, every drive, according to L aca n, is a death clri ve. He says,
"the drive, the partial drive, is profoundly a d eath dri ve and represents
in itself the po rtion of death in the sexed living being." '9 Fire Wa1k with
Me shows the power of this death drive over the characte rs in the film;
it is the ultimate source of all the acti vity that we see, though a compet
ing force emerges through the fig ure of BOB.
As a figure of phallic authority, BO B a ppears lO be an irresistible
force . He inhahits Le1and Palm <.>r and engages in illicit sexual and vio
lent activities wimout repercussions. But the end of the film shows us
that even BOB, the figure of pnallic author ity. acts in response to the
tvlan From Another Place and follows the dicta tes o" rhe J eath urive .
BOB inhabits L elan d not in o rd er ro dOlll in :lI l hlll in ord cr to :l CCCSS rhe
lost object th rough thl:" incestuml!> r("blillll wlli t I '111 1 111 Ih is way. the
phaJlus serves the dri vc, eVcll a ~ 11 I' tllll ll lll. 11': 1".1 1\" 19 ,llId indcpcn
1.'1, 1111 IMI" OS ~I Ull Of<V IIl 1 VII""
dence. Lynch re presents [he coun te rintu itive nature of the primacy of
me dri ve ove r the phallus through the aclOrs he has playing (be Man
F rom Anotber Place and BOB, M ichael J. An derson is a dwarf and ap
pears as a friendly, nonthreatening figure . Frank Silva , w ho plays BOB,
towers Oyer Anderson and is the lTlost terrifying cha racter in the film .
BU l afte r Le\and kills Laura, the de pendence of the latte r on the former
becomes absolutely c1ear.
In the Red Room , M fKE and the Man F rom A noth er Place face
BOB and Leland (who hangs suspended in midair). W hen MIKE and
the Man From Another Place demand their ga rmonboz ia from BOB,
BO B seems to rcach into Leland, extract hlood from him (w hich is per
haps Laura's blood), and splatter this blood on tbe Roor. AII along BOB
has seemed li ke a figure of authority and power, but w hen he does the
bidding of the Man From Anom er Place, he betrays that his activities
merely feed the drive, allow ing it to continue to enjoyo This act of feed
ing becomes li teral in the nex t shot. We see an extrem e c1ose-up of the
Man F rom A nome r Pla ce 's mouth as he eats cream ed corn (w hich the
film associates w itb enj oyment) off a spoon. Ea rlier, at the moment of
Laura 's murder, we sce a brief shot of the Ma n From Anom e r Place
laughing wi ldly. BOB's ac tivity doesn 't bring en joyment fo r BOB bim
self, but it does all ow the Man F rom Another Place lo enjoyo
If the Man F rom Another Place enjoys BOB's violence, he is J1t me
cause of it. Thc phallus represents an attem pt ro short-circuit the d rive,
to obtain enjoym ent w ithout suffering ("rom the absence rhat cha racter
izes the drive. I n T hc Indivisible Remainde/", Slavo j Zil.-e k sees rhe phal
lus as a response to m is absence. He says, "the Phi , tbe sig nifier of phal
lic power, phall us in its fasc inating presence, merely 'gives body' to the
impotence/inconsistency of the big Other."20 As lhe detached bod y part,
the M an F ro m A not he r P lace represents the gap w ithin the Other, and
BOB, as the pha llus, tres to fill in this gap. Ziiek expbi ns furthe r the
mo vem ent from the gap in the Othe r to the pballus, which is the move
ment from the Man From A nother Place to BOB:
The passage from S( A) to [he big P hi is the passage from impossibil
ity to prohibito n: SeA) stands for th e impossibility of the signifier of
th e hig Olhe r, for the fac t that there is no "Othe r ofOther," that the
fiel d of tlw ( )I her is inherentl y incons istcnt; and th e hig Phi "reihes"
[his ill q)l I",',iI,t! I Y ri l O rhe Except ion, inro a "sac red ," prohibited/ un
/W/ N pr/(~ : flRF WA l /( WIfH ME 1~7
 attainabl e age nt who avoids castration and is thus ablc "reaIly to en
joy" (the primordia l Father, the Lad y in courtly love) .21
Th e Ma n From Another Place and BaR are locked in a struggle be
tweeo absence and prcsencc, hetwcen an enjoyment based on circulat
ing a round the lost object and an enjoyment hased on actually having
this object.
Trying lO have the ohject in the way that phallic power does is an at
tempt to enjoy without lack . When MIKE pulls his truck ncxt to Le
land ao d Laura in their car :lnd begins yelling at them, he aceusc~ Le
landIBOR of trying to cnjoy illicitly. Though barel y audible aboye
Ldand's revv ing engine, MJKE ~ays, "You stole the coro! 1 had it
canned above the storc. Miss, the look on her face when it wa s opened.
There was a cl oseness. Like the Formica table topoThe thread will be
torn, Mr. Palmer. The thread wi ll be torn ." The bizarre nature of
MIKE's rant suggests that Lynch obscures w hat he's saying with engine
noi se in ord er to hide the fact that he sn't saying anything-that MJKE
speaks nonsense. But psyc hoanalys is renu ers this seemingly incoherent
statem ent sensible. MJKE indicates that Leland's inccstuou s activity is
a theft of enjoyment-a stealio g of the corn- anu that it cannot con
ti nue beca use "the thread will be torn. " Phallic authority's effo rt to en
joy without the tcaring of the th read , w ithout loss, inev itably fa l s. The
phallus neve r success fuIly possesses the priv ileged obj ect, hut m erel y
engages in an end less pu rsuit of this obj ec t, a pursuit that results in the
sati sfa ction of the dr ve.
The struggle betwee n th e Man Prom A nother Pl ace and BOB s the
~ truggl e between the death dr ve ancl li fe. Fire Walk with Me sh ows,
following F reud, the prio rty of dea th over life. It is the life force that
perpetuates violence in the fi lm, not the death drive. T he phallus at
tempts to preserve its conocction to the obj ect and to guard aga nst 1055 ,
bUI the im poss ibility of possessing lhe object leads phallic authority to
acts of dest ructiveness, acts that en d up serving the dcath urive.
T he insight of the film into the rel atonship between the death drive
and phallic authori ty stem s from hmv it dcpiets th e stru.c ture offantasy.
In our ordinary expericnce of social r~di ty, ph:Ll lie powcr has lhc illu
sion of auto nomy; we scc its Ji srlays lit" P() II ' II ~y 1.lllIl:r dlfln its secret
dcpenuencc, wh ich hewllll'\ app:m' l1l IHl ly 11 1 1.1Ji1d.Y. I.ylich ilrganizes
!.he fi lm aroll nd lhe Clnl :lsy I)h,~l l . I _, lIlI,II. illll C 'II II ' ' "11y imrnc rses
1ln 1111 I M~O.""i 1 " "V l ft IYrH~ 1I
us in the fa ntasy that centers arOllnd her. Th.is has the effeet of making
vi si ble the underlying structu re oCthe socia l order because she-or her
d esire qu a object- is che absent center of that order.
Th e Master Exposed
Shooting Pire Wa1k with Me f'rom tbe persp<:ctive of the im possible ob
ject has the effee t of exposing th e de pe ndt'llce of pate rnal autho rity on
this object that it d esp ises :md abuses. Lynch dis plays th is dependence
by placing Lau ra a t th e ceo ter of the film and showiog fi g ures of pater
nal auth ority constan tl y reacting to her. O ecupyi ng the posi tion of phal
lie authority prov idcs a certain ki nd of en joyment foc the m an, but at
the sam e time it st ruct ural ly dcp rives the ma n of access to fernn ine c n
joym ent. Thus, no m aner how m uch power a pballic au tho rity has , it
a lways experiences ts lack of thi.s other type of enjoymen t. Thi s is vvhat
we see in the case of BOB. BOB ra pes Lau ra Palme r-an J has done so
si nce she was twdve years old- bccause he w an ts to expe riencc the
fern inine en joyment tbat he imp utes to her. He wants to expcrience
from her pcrspec tive. As Laura tcl ls Haro ld Smith (Lenny von Dohlen)
a fte r she uiscovers tha t BOB has taken pages from b e r secret d iary, "H e
wants to be m e, or he'l l kilI me." Ju st afrer Lau ra 1eaves Harold, we
hea r BOB say to Lau ra, "1 wan t to taste th rough youe mouth," as the
visua l track d issolves fro m " shot oEth e ceiling fa rr ro a sh ot of Lau ra to
a shot of a red cu rta in. Laura experiences BOB's desre to embody her
and partake of the en joy ment he anrbutes to hef.
T he pro blem is thar BOB-and phallic authority as such- cannot
ever caprure this el usive en joymen t. As Serge Andr puts it, "Eve n if he
has had sexual pleasure and givc n it to hi s partn er, he ca n never be sure
ofh av ing posscssed he r, that is to say, ofh aving participated in th ejou
sance lh at is lzers. "22 In fact, the more that BOB has La ura, th e more he
feels rh ar som eth ing escapes. T hi s is w hy he m ust kcep comng back .
Though he has had La ura sn ce she was twelve, he still longs to taste
through hcr mou tll , not having yel success full y d one so. H er enjoy
mem remains elusive for BOB beca use she herself doesn't possess it; it
is an en joyment of the Other. According to And r, "That the specifi
cally feminine part o fjouissa1JCe is a rticulated at S(A), beyond the ph al
li e contribu l io n madc hy her partner, means that a woman ta kes plea
su re in h (r~df .l~ ('.her to hcrself."23 Bur BOB fa ils to g ra sp th is arrd
/ W/ N PfAKS: F IRE WAlK w /rH ME 149
thus cofltinues te bclieve that he can pin down Laura 's enj oy ment anJ
posscss it. Lynch's elabora tion of the ul ti mate mate fa nrasy rhus has rhe
effect of exposing the failure of phallic powe r.
BOB's misundersranding about Laura's enjoyment manifests irsclf
in rhe demand he addresses to her: "Fire walk wirh me," In Eluc Velvet
(I9 86 ), Il/ifd at Hcal't (1990), and Lost HighwClY (1997), ji re provic1es an
image of rhe ulrimare enjoymenr. The films depicr subjecrs bu rning
wit\; enjoymenr or encountcring fire as they approach enjoym enr . Bur
in each case fire n :presenrs enj oym ent from a male perspecrive, from
the pcrspccrive of mate fanta sy. Feminine enjoyment cannor be reduced
to an image-even one of fire. In Fire WaLk with M~, we don't see any
instances offire, despire the film's title, because the film locates us within
Laura's perspective, not rhat ofrhe mate who is fantasi z ing. This is an
orher way in which rhe film thwarts the expecrations of spectators . As
Michel Chion notes, "Thc film does not totally fulfil the contracr wirh
the publ ic which is suggestcd by its title" beca use "rhe role of fire in rh e
film is minimal."24 The absence offire in rhefilm is not simply an error
on Lynch's part or an insignificant omission; ir revea ls that L aura
doesn't enjoy in rhe way that the m ate fantasy expects ofher. H er enjoy
menr remains enig maticall y presented within the film's mise-en-scene,
leav ing us completely unsure w hcrher she en joys herself or whether she
me rely feigns enjoym ent on occasion.
The unce rtain ry of Laura's enj oyme nt introduces uJlcertainty into
rhe lives of th e men w ho encounter it. T his occurs most conspicuou>ily
w itb BOB, who returns ro L aura due to his inability to possess her w ith
any certa inty. We see this happen on a lesser scale with Bobby, just a fter
Bobby shoots and kills D eputy C liff H oward (Rick AieLlo) during a
drug J ea!. Bobby panics after killing the depury (w ho was delivering
the drugs), but Laura, hig h on cocaine, laughs uncontrollably at Bob
by's panic and at the depury's death. W hile laughing, she claims, "Bobby
killed Mi ke." Laura 's statement is manifestly untrue; both she and
Bobby see plainly thar rhe dead man is not Bobby's friend Mike but a
stranger. Nonetheless, Bobby becomes confused. He responds, "This
isn't fuck ing M ike. Is this Mi ke? " Th e dou bt th al ente rs into Bobby 's
mind here is the res ult of the uncertainry rhar 1.;l\Jr;l's cni oy rn cnt intro
duces into the male psyrhc. La ura placcs dPllhl jl l H..I,I, y's l11 ind w herc
there w;:s absolute ccrtainl)', ;I n.l ~ 11t" .\..,., ti 11', 11 1 di' I!lid,' II r ;1 di~rl ;y
of cnjoymcnt.
110 TIl I 'M r ( . ~ ' '' I\l l U,,~ I II IY'" l'
The u ncertain status of Laura's cnjoyment lea ves BOB in the posi
tion of seek ing som eth ing thar be ca n neve r koow if he has or noto As a
result, BOB, rhe figure of phallic autho rity in rhe film, ends up bcing
compl etely dependent on Laura. His nightly assaults do nar represcnt
his agency but rather his lack of it. BOB spenJs the entire film reacting
to L aura, attempting to inhabit her and experience w hat she experi
ences. He ends up killing her beca use she defies his authority and insists
on a mod e of enjoyment rhat ane cannot possess.
Accepting the Ring
T he ethical chall enge for Laura Pal mer in Fire Wa1k with Mc-and th e
fundam ental problcm for the spectator-is not accepting her own sym
bolic death. Throughout the fi lm, she cuickl y and courageausly em
braces her own emptiness as a subject, anJ the spectator musr adopt th is
position from the moment ofher en trance into the film . But w hat Laura
resists acknowledging is the ernptiness of th e O th er. L aura's rclucta nce
to see the nonexisrcnce of the Othe r ex plains both her attitud e toward
Donna a nd, more importantly, her inabili ty to recogni ze her father as
BOB.
Throughout the fi lm, she ta kes solace in the idea tha r Donna is u n
like her, that Don na actu;:lIy has a substan tive identity. When she sces
Donna ado pti ng her Iifestyle and fall ing in to the void that she occu pies,
this complcrely lr<lumatizes Laura. After Donna accompa nies her on a
nigh t of drink ing, drug use, prostitutio n, and an o rgy, La u ra becomes
irate with Do nn a for imitating her. Shc says, " 1 don't want you to be
like me ." Insofa r as D on na remains a norm a l small-tow n high 5chool
gi r!, she provides a sense ofsecuri ty for La ura a nd allows L aura to COD
tinue ro believc that Do nna is anchored in a way that she isn't. Donna
sustruns for Laura the ideal of th e non-Iacking Other. 25
To recogni ze the identity of BO B and Leland woul d be to acknowl
edge her fat her's lack, and this is what Laura cannot do until the end of
rhe fil m . Ittakes so long and so much evidence to con vince Laura because
of [he trauma inherent in this acknow ledgm ent. He r suspicions start
ea rl y in the film when ,he sees BOB in her room and runs outside the
house. A m oment la te r, her father comes ou t, thereby indicaring that he
\Vls rhe l ll" r ~l,n ~ltc ~aw. Late r, w hile ridin g in the ca r w ith her father,
MIKE,nl': IfI \~ 1llltt' r. " It'shi m ! ft\ your f:1 Iherl" But Lcland revs thecar
I V/ I N I' I II~ S; r lH ' WIII. K W ITH M E 151
engine so that Laura can barel y hear whar MlKE is saying. She only bc
comes convinceJ vvben BOB becomes Leland during the sex act itself.
Lynch shoots this scene in 3 way that conveys the trauma that the
revelation has for Laura. We see BOB sneak into Laura's bedroom
through an open window and begin to have sex with her. Sh\:: repeats
four times. "Who are you?" during the sex act. After the fou rth time,
we see a shot of Laura's face as a look of horror comes over it and she
screams, follow ed by a reverse shot showing her father's facc w herc
BOB's was. At this poiot, the screen goes completely black until it sho\Vs
a shot looking dowo directly into a bowl of cereal (which has the ar
pearance of vomit). The entire consistency of Laura's world seems to
break dowo: the images lose thcir coherence and bccome blurry, the
dock 00 the wal! io Laura's dassroom hegins to spin out of control, and
so on. lo her room, the aogel disappears from the picture haoging 00
the wal!. Al! this chaos results from L aura's encounte r with th e lack in
the Other. Secing her father as 1308, she can no longe r bclieve in the
pristioe Other that has a substantive identity. No w she looks out into
the Other and sees the same em ptiness that exists within herself.
But the film does oot end with the trauma ofLaura's encouoter with
the lack io lhe O ther. [nstead, the trauma actually becomes the basis for
Laura's eme rgence as an ethical subject and her defiance of BOB. In
this sense, the com plaiot tbat Laura is simpl y a victim of male fantasies
misses the m ar k . According to Laura Plu mme r, La ura P al mer is nom
ing but this: "Laura's traosgressions of social law-snorting cocainc
and being a sexuaU y active tecnage r--o riginate in the abuse of he r fa
ther. That is, Laura P<lLme r lS me rely reacti ve; she has no agency. She is
ooly punished."26 'vVhat Plum mer fails to see is the radica liry ofLaura 's
gesture at the end ofthe film. Laura defies the phallic power ofBO B in
a way that no other character in the film does. W hen Leland takes
Ronette Pulas ki and her to the railroad (ar, MIK E roUs the ring from
the Man From A nother Place into the car with Laura at the moment
Ronette escapes. Laura puts the ring on her finger, a gesture that defi es
BOB's authority. Just after sh e puts the ring on, Leland screams, "No!
Don't mak e me Jo this," before he ki Us her. T he act of r u tting on the
ring seems to force LelandlBOB to kili Laura rathc r th ;1I1 Ula sexuall y
assaulting her as he usually d ues.
By taking th e ring, she :lccoll1plislH's d I!'; 1I111 1(,~" h l l SI l(" ali gns her
self with the Man P rom Anot! ll'r Phi t' . 1 ~~.,ill . 1 1\1111, \\ 1111 dt';l h ,Igai m t
1"7 HI~ IMPOSSIOlL II/lVII' I YNI-: It
life. She marries herself to the dea th dr ive. T he ring has a structure al
most cxactly like that of the dr ive: a closed loop organized around a
central absence. In the act of tak iog the ring, the subject affirms and
embraces absence, which undermines BOB's authority. But we imme
diate1y see the cost of the impossib le aet: the embrace of the death drive
costs Laura her life. When BO B kills Laura, he removes the ri ng aod
places a lettcr under the nail of the fi nger that formerly held the ringo
This gesture rcv eals in another way the difference between the Man
From Another Place and BOB-or the differe nce between the drive
and the phallus. Whereas the dr ive circulates around an absence, th e
p'hall us attem pts to fill in th is absence-th e hole left by castra tiun
with the materiality of the letter.
Laura ca n accept the ring in the railroad car beca use she has reached
the point where she no longer hopes. It is to this point that th e fantasy
d epicted in Pire Wa1k with Me leads USo It allows us to experience the
emptiness of both the object and the O tber. In d oing so, we escape the
idea of an escape. When Laura puts on the ri ng, she no 100ger has any
investment in ti fe, and BOB's hold over subjects d epends enti rely on
their investment in life. As she had told James carl ier that nig hl,
"There's no place lcft to go." The emb race of the d eath dr ivc is what
BOB ca nnot tole ra te: it separates Laura from him ancl places her be
yond his control, guaranteei ng th at he wi ll not possess her. Lau ra finds
a solution here throug h the em brace of the dearh drive. T h rough th is
act, she break s the huId that pballic autho ri ry has oves her and frees
herse1 f as a subj ect. BOB kills h er almost as soon as she sli ps the ring on.
BUl in the ioslant of he r im possible identification with the death drive,
she achieves the eth ical positi on [ha t the film itself pri vileges.
In this way, the fantasma tic dimensioo of P'e Wa1k with Me places
an oncrous demand 00 the spectator. O ne must first see oneself in
L aura, the impossible object, and then one must follow her d own the
path of eth ical subjectivity. Ethics here means embracing the absence of
a n outs ide, the recognition that "There's no place left to go," no else
where w here we couJd imagine things are better. Adoptin g this posi
tion, one finds the outside with in the inside, the infinite within the fi
ni te . Or, as Hegel suggests in his an alysis ofCh ristiani ry, o ne recognizes
t1J al tbe ki ngJo m of heave n is Main Str eel.
I\V ' ~ I'tAj(~ ; fl U WAll' w,rH M. 153

SEVEN Fiod ing Ourselves 00 a Lost Highway
The Fantasy of Sense
After th e cr itical and popular failure of Twin Peaks: FiI'e Walk with ,Me
(199 2 ), Ly nch took a long period of time off from feature filmmaking.
H is follow-up fil m, Lost H ighwa y, did not appear until 1997 He spent
much of th is tim e thin k ing through and explorin g possible ideas for a
new proj ect-throwing ideas at th e wall, as he wuld put ir.. W hen the
right idea carn e, it carn e from the random phrase "lost highway," w hich
appeared in the novel Night M oves by Barry G ifford (w ho also wrote
the novel Wild at Hea,.t on w hich Lynch bascd his film). Struck by this
phrase , Lynch proposed cowrit ing a screenplay wi th Gifford unrelated
tO rhe novel. The film was their first collabol'ation as cowriters, and,
despite G ifford's influen ce, it di d not rerurn to the l'ela tive clarity of
Wlld at H eart (199 0 ) but continued dow n the path laid down by Fire
Walk with Me .
Lost H ighway is as d,ifficult to experience as Fire Walk wlth IV/e,
though fol' different reasons. On the \evc\ of ()u r immediate cinematic
interaction with the film, it presents us w ith im ages so bright tbat we
close our eyes or look away, and vo ices Sil di~lorfld thOI we wish we
couId close our ea rs. These difficuhi t'" 1~ II'llll r . l r il y Il 1I pk l ~iln t though
1', 1
they may be, become but rni nor bumps in the road whe n we con
trasr them with th e interpretive clifficul tics (hat the fil m's narrative
incoh erence--or seem ing incoheren ce -presen ts. As Anne Jerslev
rightly points out, "Mo re th an Twi,l P,'aks: Pire Walk with Me, LOj"t
Higlz w ay t.ak es the form 01" a rad ical departure from classical principies
of coherence, un ity and d osure.'" Ir is tcmpting, on a first view ing, to
chalk rhese diffic u lti es up to Lyn c1 obscurantist proclivities and to
concluele (liat the na rrati ve is uncon ventional just fo r the sake ofbeing
unconventional , or that the point is sim ply th ar there is no point.' Bu t if
this is the case, rh e n Lo"t Highway hard ly seems wo rth the 135 m inutes
that a view ing req uires, let alonc any cfforts spcm in m aking sense ofit.
This conclusi on seems ( O have been lhat of audiences and ([itics alike,
most of wh om re jected Lojt Highway, just as they did Fil'c Wa1k with
M e) Even if the difficul ties of th e fi lm serve to coneeal som ething pro
found in the film 's narrative, chey are not necessa rily \vorth the trouble.
T he fil m's obscur ity, in that case, would sti ll not cl early be necessary.
Th e on!y serious justifica ti on for the difficul ties of the film 's narrativc
lies in rheir struc tu ral necessity. lLs cliffi c ul (ie~ derive From m ak ing ev i
dent an und erlying logic of fantas y t1w t s operalive, thoug h certainly
not ap parent, iD the fi lm il.: experiencc itsel f. Because the narrative of
Lost High w ay b rings tbe logic o f fantasy out into lh e o pen, it necessarily
strikes us as incongruotls, as a fil m w ithollt a narrative altogether.
More than in Ly nch 's other fiLm, lhe d ivision of L ost Highway into
opposing world s of des ire and fantasy uramatic tlly affec ts the sense of
th e film. T he ch icf effect of this sepa raL ion is tb at the fil m docsn 't seem
to make sense al al1. Fantasy, though ir is op posed ro "real ity," nonethe
\ess provid es un un de rlyi.ng sup port for our sense of real ity. W ithout
th is support, we can no longe r be su re of our bca rrng w ith in the social
reali ty- ur sense o[ lhe m ean ingfll lness of that reality. The separation
of dcs ire and fan tasy also makes cl ea r the way in w hich fantasy acts as
a compensation for what (he social reality does n't provide. Fantasy pro
vides the illu si on of del ivering the good s, bur Lost H ighw ay ultimately
makes c1 ear that ir fails ro do so. [n this sen se, fantasy is not an escape
from un unsarisry ing social realiry bULl way of rcpeating it. The sub
jecr tu rus to fa nt.asy to eSGlpe lhe J eadlock of desi re bUl inev itably en
countcrs th c dcadlock in a new fo rm oO ne fan tasi7.cs oneself a different
per<;on, blll tlw trnurnul ic disrupti oo or lhe imposs ible object-cause of
" '" I"II GHWAY 155
desire remains. Eve n in the aet o f accomplishing the impossib!c, one al
ways returns ba ck ro one's starting point.
The separation between fantasy and social reali ry in Lost Highway
m:mifcsts itsclf mos t apparently in the transformalions that its protago
nist unJergoes. He firs t appears as FreJ Madison (Bi ll Pullm an), later
beco mes (while in prison awaiting execution for the m urder ofhis wife)
someone entirely different, Peter D ayton (Baltha zar G etty), and thcn
becomes Fred Madison again. In opting to have different actors play the
characters ofFred Madison and Peter D ayton, Lynch establishcs a read
ily visible distinetion between the expcriencc of desire w ithin the film
ane! the experience of fanta sy.4 The transformation betwee n the two,
whi ch occurs without ex planation, baffles characters within the film as
we" as audiences without. \ Ve can grasp what's ha ppening in Lost H igh
way only if we see the sudden transformation ofFred Madison into Pe ter
Dayton as fantasmatic: Peter Dayton is F red Madison wi thi n F red's fan
tasy. The entire scenario surround ing Peter D ayton that follow 5 in the
film thus becomes the elaborated structure of this fantasy. 5
Through the w ide visual divergence between the world ofFred and
the world of Peter, Lynch establishes them cinem atically as worlds of
dcsi re and of fantas )', respeetively. F rom the first shot of the film , Lynch
g ives Fred's worlJ a sense of the unknown. Rarher than beginning w ith
an establishing sh ot, the film opens with a cl ose-up of F red, whieh in
aug u rares the mystery. N one of the subseque nt shots hcl p to cl arify
things, and the entire d epicti on o f F red 's world lea ves the speClator
without any sense of rime o r place. F red 's wo rld lacks the visual fu ll
ness, rhe depth, of Peter's; there is a sense of emptiness he fe, wh ich
Ly nch esta blish es through the use of a m inimalisr dcor an d subdued
lighting in F red's house. This emptiness proviJes the space for d esire
something secms lacking, thus im pel ling th e m ovements of desire. The
desiring subject and the desiring spectator emerge through the con
frontation with an absence of meaning, and this absence is ubiquirous
in the first part of Lost H ighway.
By minimi ng rhe deptb of field in the shots of F red's world , Lynch
creates a sen se of Aatness in th al worlJ. E verything seem s ro be taking
place on th e surfaee, witbout an y d epth. The use of color and sou nd
also ad d to rhc feelin g of J e pthle~,<;n ess: I he w lors ,In; dr<lb (black, g ray.
taupe, dark Ofange), amI thcre liT IOllg llt'r illd \ .. 1" ,ilt' ll el w itlwllt ;J ny
backgrounJ sound . T his w" r! d j, 11 1)',1 [1 1111\ I' ll u '.d v IW(; III ~e il is a
I ~ jf, nI! I Mr r.;~f'dllll OAV I D lVtJI 1I
world of surfaces, and whefe we would expecr ro find depth, we find
o nly a void (silenee or darkness). Wh ile he lights alI m e m ain rooms of
the house with low, though aclequate ligh ting, Lynch !caves the hall
ways complerdy dark . indicating thi s void beneath the surface, the void
from which d esire emerges. Such darkness is absent in Peter's worl d.
From the mom en t Peter appears, the mise-en-seene is wholly different:
bright lighting, more colorful fu rn iture and dcor, and no empty spaces.
The d epth of fiekl underl ines the fu ll er look. Lynch ShOOlS Peter's
wo rld much more tradi tionalIy than F red's, so that it is not pervaded hy
mystery in the way of the larter. This absence of m ystery-this sense of
a turn toward realistic cinema -Icts us know that Peter's world is
wholIy fantasmatic. A world of pu re desire would be completely mys
[erious in this way because it would offer us no possibilities for m aki ng
sense of th e desire of the Other (wh ich is rhe function of fan casy).
Enduri ng th e Desire of the Other
Ra ther than turning to fa ntasy, as one mig ht assum e, ro avoid con tem
pla ting his impen d ing exccution, F rcd does so in order to g ain respite
from tbe desire of his wi fe Renee (Patr icia Arq uette), which eontinucs
to hau nt him despi re rhe faet th ar she sec ms ro have d ied . F rom [he be
ginnillg of the film , Re nee 's desire wo rks to generate F red 's d es ire
precisely beca use he has no idea wbat she wants, Jet alone how to g ive it
tO her. She secms to have, somewherc within her, sorne hid den kernel
of excessive enjoyment that F red ean't aecess. Bi ll P ullma n's perfor
mance and Ly nch 's placemcn t of F red w ithin the frame help to make
clear that F red posits a secret, m ysterious en joymenr in Renee. On two
separate occas ions when F red ap proaches Re nee, the shots depict him
emerg ing from a complerely da rkened corridor in the hou se (echoing
simila r sh ots in B!ue Ve/vet IT986], sllch as when Sandy [Laura D ern]
first appea rs). Desiring is, in a sense, bcing in the dark about the desire
of the Other-or feeling oncself in the dark. Bill Pullman's delive ~y of
Fred's lines also ma kes clear dJar Renee's desire m ys tifies Fred. W hen
responding to Renee's questions or conversing wirh her, Pu llman uses
unusually long pauses and a pu zzled expression in o rder to demon
strate F red 's sense of bew ild erm ent. T he sum of these effects helps to
Ilustrate tl ; Prcd feels himsel f confronted wi th a mystery that he can
nnt lilll."'11 tll ' lI1 y~tc:ry of what ReOl'c W:lll b .
t OS T ,i IC ,., WAY 15 7
 At the beginning (lf Jst H ighway, Rcnee is a mystery to Frcd, and
he interprets this scnse of mystery that pervades her as ;} veil, beneath
which lies her hielden treasure, her secret enjoym ent. O n the first eve
ning depicted in Lost Highway, Fred asks Re nee if she's going to the
club that night (where he plays the saxophone in a jazz band), hut she
decides not to go. This decision, osterrsibly innocent, is for F red filled
with meaning (beca use he sees it as a ve il hiding something), but he
doesn't know what kind of meaning (beca use he can't see bencath the
veil). He then proceeds to interrogate her:
FRED: What are you going to dor
RENFF: Read.
FRED: ., . Read? ... Read what?
(RENEE laughs)
As Fred, Bill Pullman delivers this finalline with t\Vo belabored pauses,
suggesting that he is uncertain whether or not Re nee is telling the
truth.
Renee's cryptiC response and subsequent laug hter when asked to
specify do not help Fred to solve the myste ry of her des ire. T he laughrer
seems to indicate thar Renee has som eth ing up her sl eeve, but w hatever
rhis might be, Fred feel s himselfcompletely barred from ir. Wc can sense
this feclin g in Frcd's voice when he tel ls Re nee, after she laughs, "Ir's nice
ro know I can still make you laugh." H e ta kes som e d egree of solace in
the fact that he seems still to have some part of whar she w ants, but his
overall feeling here is o ne of being alienared from her desire, an alien
a tion that quickly turns into suspicion. F rom the club that nigh t, he calls
home, checking up on Renee, but she doesn 't seem to be there to answe r.
Lynch cuts betwcen a shot of F red calling from the club and a shot of the
phone ringing at Fred and Renee's home with no one answering. The
editing of this shot sequencc extends the sense of myste ry pc rvading Re
nee. By including the shot of the phonc ringing in che seemingly vacant
home, Lynch attempts to involve the spectator in F red 's suspicions about
Renee. Ir is not clear that Renee isn 't rhe rc, but nonetheless this is F red's
belief-and ours, if we follow the prodd ings of Lynch '5 came ra-a be
lief premised upon sceing Rente as veiled . Bu! w h ~' n he gets h ome, h
finds Rente sleeping peacefully in t11lir hed I,y I lt'r~df. T hi s episod e
Icaves Fred a nd th <:: :lI1dicnce with :l lli111Ih .1\ H" IIFt: \ .I' \lr in g, hu t witb
1 ~:,8 1111' IMP 05S l lLE DIIV I D IYN~ II
no idea ahout wha!. But in coming up against the mystcry ofRenee's de
si re, F red reveals something further.
Through F red's relationship with Re nce, Lw'! Highway illustrates
how we come into existence as desiring subjects. Fred's sen se of bewil
der ment about Renee's desire, his constant efforts at interp reting what
it is she really wa nts, is actually the mark ofhis own emergence as a de
siring subject. Bis constant efforts to interpret Renee's words (and even
hcr silences and Ia ughs) ind icate that F red himself desires. In attempt
ing to interpre t Re nee's desire, Fred constitutes himself as desiring. De
sire is an effo rt to figure out w hat the Oth er wants from me. As such, it
is a perpetual question that ca n never be answered beca use it would
ha ve to be answcred with words, i.e., w ith another veil or screen that
necessarily gives the illusion ofhiding desire. Ev en asking the Other to
demonstrate herlhis desire physically in an effort to elude language
would come up against the same stumbling block: as hcings of Ian
guage, even ou r gestures function as signifiers, which m eans that they
a re o paque and appcar to hid e desire,
(r Fred came right out and asked Renee w hat she wa nted , w hatever
answer she gave w ould seem to F red as if she we re hidin g something
furthe r, the som ething tha r she reall y wa nted . This is w hy L acan c1aims
lha t desire "cannot be indi ca ted anyw here in a signifie r of an y de mand
w hatsoeve r, for it carmo t be a rticulated in the sign ifier even tho ugh it is
articulated the re."6 Dcsire is me res ult of o ur insertion into Ianguage,
but nonetheless it ca n't be named by tha t language. Th us, insofar as he
holds fas t tO h is desirc (i.e., in sofar as he co ntinues to try to interpret
Renee's des ire), F red is doomed to be stuck w irh a question that doesn't
have an answe r, no matter how fa r he pursues that question. The end
lessn ess of desire and its perpetual question m ake it unbearable and
nea rl y impossi ble to sustain.
T his unbcara ble quality is w hy we do n't experience desire without a
correlative fantasy. O n its ow n, desire req uires th at we persist in a radi
cal uncertainty relative to the Other. As a res ult, most narratives dilute
desi rc with adose of [antasy, provid ing characters and situations that
readi! y make sense. But even narratives replete w ith uncertainty neces
sa rily betray some investment in fantas y, or elsc they would ccase to be
na rrati ves altogether. Na rra rjve ~ alJow U5 th e res pite of knowledge,
th erehy dd ivc: ring us fro m dcsire's co mpku: u llcertainty, even as they
rcceiw 111< 11 t'twrg}' (mm clesire. Wc: (a11 ~cc the un hea rable quality of
l o~ r HI GH'IIAY 1~9

ucsire in F red's response to Renee's uesire and, by extension, to his own.
It doesn't take long for Fred to begin to view desire itself with suspi
cion . We should resist the temptation of blaming this response on the
ambiguity with which Renee presents Fred. As Martha Nochimson
rightl y points out, "Frcd is doomed by his relationship to Renee not he
cause of he/' i nconsistencies but beca use of h obsessions."7 F reu retreats
from desire itself-not pJrticularly Rcnec's desirc.
The Entrence of the Superego
One way to retreat from desire is to turo to the law, to identi fy with the
law as a bulwark agaiost desire. Whereas fantasy offers an imaginar)'
answer to desirc's question , the law attempts to arrest the very proccss
of questioning itself, along with the disturbance it provokes. In its ef
fort to kecp uesire in cheock, the law takes up a position of an observer
vis-a-vis desire. It observes desire in an cffort to keep it to a minimum,
to eliminate its disruptive cffects on the functioning of the social ord er.
In order to better observe desire, the law has a reprcsentative within the
psyche, the superego, thal watches over the subject from the inside. The
superego is th e psychical age ncy of self-observation, and rho ugh ir is a
part of the psyche, its attachment ro the law makes il seem as if the su
perego comes from the outside. ln L ost Highway, lhe videotape rhar ap
pears on F red and Rcnee's front porch on the filrn 's second morning in
dicares rh e presence of sorne observing agency. Like the su perego,
whoever is o bserving their house with a video camera seems to be an
intruuer, an alie n figure.
The superego is, in one sense, at the sourcc of the feel ing of being
watched, though its ultimate source lies in our sacrifice of dC5ire to the
law. The manifestation of the superego appears in the film, not coinci
dentally, just as Fred has begun to bccome more suspicious abour Renee's
desire. Feelings ofsuspicion and jealousy are a response ro desire, a sU5pi
cion ofdesire itself-indicative of an investment in the law. F red's suspi
civn indicates a failure on his part ro sustain desire's guestion, an d it i5
this failure that provides a bu rst of encrgy to the superego, resulting in
the videotape at the door.ln giving up his desire, F red opcns th e door ro
the superego, "inviting" it into hi s psyche. The ~lI pl"n.:~() de velops in50
far as we g ive up desire: the more we gi vl' IIp d l'~ i fe , 1111' ~1I (ll\gcr t he Sl1
pe rego's command th at \Ve gi H: up mUl l' .1"111 1"'111111' ~:: In T/" lvld (/s
160 Tllr IMPOS~llll [ Q';'V IO ~YNC I I
"
tases ofHlljoyment, Slavo j Ziiek offers a n explanation of this rclationship:
"[The] supcrego draws the encrgy ofthe pressure it exer ts upon the sub
ject from the fact that the subjecl was not faithful to his uesi rc, that he
gave it up. Our sacrificing ro the superego, our paying tribute to it, ooly
corroborares our guilr."9 The tape's presence tells us that F red's aban
donment of his desire has energi zed his superego, bur its presence abo
spurs Fred's suspicions, which means it doesn't pro vide him an y relief.
The turo away from desire ro the law is not, properly speaking, a turo
away froro ues irc ar al!. The m ore the subject seeks refuge in the la vV, the
more hca vily ir expe riences its ow n lack.
Law and desire work hand -in-hand to keep the subject 's attention
focused on the Other and the question of the O ther's desirc. ' o As long
as the subject takes its bea rings from rhe Other 's desire, it remains on a
lho roughly ideological terrain in w hich the Oth er completdy deter
mines the subject. 1n this position, the subjcct sees only symbolically
circumscribed avenues for ac tion rather than a real opening to acto Such
opcnings appear as impossibilities for the subject tied , through th e dia
lectic of la w and desire, ro the questi oo of wha t th e O th er wan ts. But
Lost Highway doesn't end with ch is stalc al te rnative.
T he evening after Fred and Renee receive Ule first t;lpe, F red posits
an increasingly g rea te r desire to Renee, "seei ng" her p rese ot at the club
that night with anotner guy (Andy, as we lea ro later). Later thar night,
F red tries to ha ve sex w ith Renee, but is unable to--and unabl e to give
he r w hat he thinks she wants. And from Renee's response, we can scc
thar th is isn't the first time. Fred's im potence--or sim ply hi s inabi lity to
satisfy Renee sexually-further em powe rs his supcrego beca use it
makes him fcd even more estranged from her desirc a nd even g uiltier.
WC get confirmation of this w hen F rcd, just after th ei r failed sexual ex
perience, reCOUllts a d ream ro Renee. He tells her, "There you we re Iy
ing in bed . It wasn't you but it looked like you." Insread of he r fa ce, in
the dream-imagc we see th e face of the Mystcry Man (Roben Blake),
who turos ou t to be-we don't kno w this yet at this point in the film
the (me respon siblc for th e videotape."
The Mystery Man's face appears suddenly in Fred's dream sequence
in the pLace of Re nee's face, an effcct that adds ro tbe horro r ir provokcs,
illustrating rhe way in which the supe rego represents the F ather in his
most fCfflO llllS fo rmo Fred sees th c face rhat has bce n obse rving him
(i.c., t1w ~lIpl' l l'~lIi(' 1:'1(:(.') in the place ofhi s wifc 's. The supe rego lodges
lO H IIIGH WAY 161
itself hctween F red and Renec, furth cr cutting off F red from Renee \;
desire and his ovvn. It bloc ks thc path of F red 's desire, keeping wJ.tch
ove r an y desre to tran sg rcss its prohihitions. Furtherm o re, the Sllpc r
ego continues to m akc irself felt \vith g rea ter and g reater strcngth, as
the next mornin g's viJ eot J.pe shows. Unlik e th e tape of th e pre violls
morning, on this tape the obseifving ca me ra ente rs F red and Renee' ..
house and travd s d own the hall toward their bedroo m , finJ.lly dissol v
ing into sta tic as th e im age of them sleep ing in bed appears.
That cve ning at a part )', the film reveal s th e sig nifica nce of thi s in
creasing intrllsion . F red run s into the Mysre ry Man, who approacb es
Fred and tell s him that he is at Fred 's hOll se now . Fred, of course, find s
thi s "crazy," but the Mystery Man is able to provc hi s claim by offering
his cellular phone to Fred so that he can ca1J ho me. And sure enoug h,
the ivlystery Man ans we rs the phone in FreJ 's housc, ev en though he is
also stan d ing in front of Frcd at the pany. Wh en F red as ks him why
he's there, the Mystery Man re plics, "You in viteJ m e. It is not my cus
tom to go wh ere 1 am not wa nted." In this response, the Mys te ry Ma n
pro \' iJes anoth er piece of evidence that he occupi cs th e posion of the
superego. 12 Just li kc the My stery M an, the superego is an intruder fro m
an external place into an internal one. As F reud points ou t, "the part
wbich is later taken on by the super-ego is played ro begin with by an
external power, by pare ntal authori ty. " '3 Thc su perego is the resulr uf
an y in ternali zation of the father (o r, mo re spec ifica lly, of lhe Na me of
the F athe r) as an agency of prohibition. In th e fo rma tion of the supcr
ego, "ex terna l restraint is inte rnalized ." '4 Th e su perego s, lik e the
Mystery Ma n in m e film , in two places at once-ins ide and outside.
T hc fi lm makes cven more ev ident this exti ma te q uul ity of m e Mys
tery Man through a mani p ulation of sound . Lyoch's work wirh sounJ
is often the most in ventive aspecr of hi s filmm aking, as we can see io
th.is instaoce. H e uses sound (o r th e lack of it) to ma ke cl ea r the bo nd
between Fred and the My stery Man. W hen the Myste ry Man ap
proa ches Fred in ord er to speak with him, the back g roun d noise of the
party dims ro becom e alm ost inaudible, as if, in m e m id st of this crow ded
party, th e Mystery Man and Fred are havi ng a p ri va te-in rrapsych ic
conversa r on. vVhen rhe Mys tery Man walb ;J way ;I fier l he r conve rsa
tion, the background no se n:tu rns a.C;;lll 1, i 11 111 1ll . d .~lIggt"'1 ing that we
have moved bac k frOlTI rh e intt:rt11 ItI d l\: ,:\ I,:r II,tI . '1"111 llltnna lizalion
of the law through he ;Ige ncy (11' d\l : ""I'I;II. ~' I !1: \( ~ I I , l lIl llthlllg" il n
162 rrl E IMPOHIO lf C1 .~ VIU I Y t~' 11
portant ahou r m e subject's rdation to desire. Th.i s in ternalization is not
so much an imposition of authority as the result of a sacrifice made by
the subject. The superego folJows from the sac rifice of desire, w hich is
why, in a sense, F red did iovi te the Mys tery Man in to his home, as the
la tte r claims. In giv ing up his desire, Fred offe red ao open in vit:c1.tion to
the superego. ' 5
On the dri ve hom e from the party, F red gets, as it were, a last chanceo
He asks Renee about A ndy (the host of the pa rty and the guy with
whom Renee had been flining ), and sb e tel ls about a job thal Andy
once told her about. Beyond ma t she can 't remem ber. O nce aga in , shc
presents him with aO enigma: the " job" rem a ins a complete m ystery,
w hi ch sen ds F red'~ des ire racing. But un der the increasing pressure of
the su perego he cannot continue in the uncertainty of this open ques
tion (i.e., w ha t does Renee \Vant?). Th e nexr morning's videotape-the
first one F red watchcs without Renee-depicts the resul ts: Fred ha ck
ing away at Renee's bod y in their bedroom. C ornpdled by the pressure
of the superego, F red attempts ro e radica te des ire's incessan t an e! un
bca rable question.
Even th oug h m e su perego is, fo r psychoanalysis, me ad vocate fo r
morality w ithin the psyche, ir nonerhdess demands Renee's murder.
H ow does m is squa re wim the idea of the superego as a "mora l" agency ?
Moral ity always com es dow n to--and this is why Lacan contrasts it
w ith an ethics of des ire- the command ro sacrifice the objec t because
rhe objcct's ambigu ity is w hat keeps puslLing des ire forward. Morali ty
aims, in short, at arresting lhe di sturba nce Lhat desire causes. T his is
w hy, at me c10se of Seminar Xl, Lacan says of the mo ral law that ir "cul
minates in me sacrifice, stricdy speaking, of evc ryth ing that is the obj ec t
of love in one's hum an tenderness-I wou ld say, not onl y in lhe rejec
tion oft be pathological object. but also in its sac rifice and murder. " ,6
Just m urde ring Renee is not enoug h to sate the appetite ofthis mo
rality beca u se she isn't identical with th e obj ect-cause of desire. That
object is a pan obj ect- part of her, nOt the w hole of her. Thus , we see
Fred, after havio g killed her, d ismem bering Renee 's hody in an effort
to find this obj ect som ewhere in her boJ y. The ob ject, howeve r, is not
si m ply in Renee (as Fred bd ieves when he is muti lating he r); it is, as
Lacan woutd p ut it, "in her more tha n hcr." Consequently, th e mutil a -
ion i5 d oomcd ro fal , anJ despitc his desrr ucti on of Renee, the obj ec t
rerna in, mI .1' ill tffable as ever. He d()t: sn't di scover her "secret. " K ilJ-
LOST H/GHWAY 16 3
ing Renee in no way ma kes things easier precisely bccause he can 't re
ally kili her- or at least th at part of her which is the objecr-cause of dc
sire. As the film subsequently shows, the death sen tence he receives is
the least of his worries. ' 7
Fantasizing Reality
Despite her "d eath," the problcm of Renee's d esire continues to haunt
Fred with increasing vehemence while he's in prison. One doesn't just
get rid of the trouble that desire stirs up, and th e fact that we later sec
her ali ve again merely confirms this. Thc more one tries to destroy this
object, the more it continues to haunt. This is why killing Renee unl)'
makes things worse for Fred. In his pri so n ceH F red falls apa rt, buckled
by the desire th at he could not destroy by murdering Renee. It is at this
point that Fred attempts to quell d esire in another way-givi ng up de
sire for fantasy, which results in his transformation into Pete r Dayton.
While most films, at sorne point in the narrative, d epict a sim il ar turn
from d esire to fantasy (w hen they enact sorne sort of resolu tion), Lost
Highway actually enacts thi s turn within the form al structure of the
fi lm itself-replacing one character (Fred Madison) w ith another (Pe
ter Dayton). At this point, the fi lm itscl f fuUy imme rses itself in fa ntasy,
\vhich has a paradox ical effect: beca use the film becomes immersed in
Fred 's fantasy- taking it so serious ly as to effect ,1 tr ans formation in his
cha.racter-it jolts the spectator out of vicwing comforlably through
the lens of fantasy.
By highlig hting the rad icality of the transfo rmation tba t hntasy occa
sions, Lynch return s us, as spectators, to the u nbearableness of desire.
Through the transform ation into Peter, it is this unbcarableness of Re
nee'slhis desire that F red is trying to escape. In the fantasy that follows,
Fred conceives an answer to the question of w hat Renee wan ts, and
though it is not alwa ys plcasant for him (or for Peter D ayran), it does al
low him tu get a hand le on the enigma tic object. Fa ntasy prov ides an ex
plicit staging ofthe Other's "sec ret." Ifdesire is a perpetual questi on,fan
tasy is;]n answer, a solution to the problcm that d esire prese nts, wh ich is
why fantasy, eve n if it is ma sochistic, prov id es a scnse of rche f.
The commonsensical d efinition of fan rasy -4,;.,~arl' fn)m rea li ty
can 't explain fantas y's unpleasant diIl ICII'I111l 111 hi, (' ''pl:1notion of
161 Tri IM~OSSIUP . t1 A\lltl lYNCfl
Fred's transformation into Peter, Tim Lucas invokes thi s definition,
claiming that "after reali zing what he's do ne, Fred cannot face the
overwhelming rea Jities of the murd er and hi s conviction, and his denial
extends to the ob literation of his o,vn identity."1 8 Thi s description of
the turn to fantasy posits a preexisting realit)' which fantasy seeks to
deny. Eut Fred, as far as we can see in the film, d oesn 't seemall that
troubl ed by reali ty. Rather, it is desire that troubles him . Tbis is why
there is a clea r co ntinuity between his state before the murd er and aftcr;
it is difficult to see how the murder has changed much, other than mak
ing Renee's desire eve n more impenetrable.
Furthermore, if fantasy ,is supposed to offer respite from the un
pleasantness of reality, it seems that Frecl should demand at least a par
tial refund o Renee's enig matic d esire ma )' be disconcerting, but in hi s
fantasmatic alternative, be k1Jows that Al ,ice (Patricia Arquette again ,
he re a platinum blonde) is the mistress ofMr. Eddy (Robert Loggia)
not exactIy a pleasant alte rnati ve. Bu t we don 't turn to fantasy for hap
piness or for respite from reality; we turn to it for respite from the tor
ments of our desire.
Fa ntasy fills in the gap tha t haunts the soc ial rea lity, but in doing so
revea ls that the re is somcthi ng not encompasscd by this reality-a trau
matic real. Th c very fact that we must have recou rse ro fa m asy-that
the social realty doesn 't satis fy l1s-testifies to the cxi stence of a real
that haunts ou r real ity. If the social reality were w ithout fissurc, if it
could accou nt fo r everything, it would not hlve a fantastrnatic und er
side. An d the turn to (antasy, the tra nsi ti on , m akcs the real evident be
cause it revea ls, howcver brieAy, t he point of fissure with in the social
reali ty. T he real is th e transitional point at which fantas)' emerges.
Agai n, because L ost Highway holds social rea lity ::Iil d fantas)' apart, the
transition between them-comact w ith the real- becomes apparent
where our eve ryelay Jife obscures it.
The m omen t o f transition to fantas)' in Lost Highway is a traumatic
mornent: the camera (from Fred's point of view) is moving clown the
middle of a hi gh w ay and th en s"vcrves, heading straighr for Peter, who
stands by the side of the road. 1n the backg round , Peter's parents and
gi rlfriend Sheila come running and screaming in terror. Following this
encounte r between soc ial reality and fantasy, we see Frcd writhing in
pain on his ce ll Aoor- ev idence of rum endu ring an experience of the
LO ST HIGHWAY 165
void that haunts reality. The void then appears m omentarily on the
sc reen as a mysteri ous (vaginal) opening tha t exp:lnd s and th reaten s to
envelop the spec tator-only to di~ appea r alm ost instantaneously. Just
as it scems to envcl op us, me fantasy takes hokl, and we fi nd ourselves
on seem ingly solid ground. And th is traumatic real d oes leave its mark:
the oozing wound on Peter's head ser ves as l remjnder. Just as Fred 's
splitting headaches indicate the presence oC the trauma tic real in the
world of d es irc, Peter's head wound indicates its prese nce in the world
of fantasy. I n the former case, traum a is alwa ys in the future, about to
happen; in the latter, it has always alread y occurred. In othe r worJ s,
traum a haunts the worlJ o f d esire as the possibili ty that is right around
the co rn er v,'hil e it h;lUnts the world of faotasy as a past event that that
world ca n neve r escape. We can also see the sign of th e trauma's pres
ence in the refusal of Peter's parents to speak about "that night," reveal
ing that the fantas)' necess itates that ce rtain things remain uospoken.
Keeping the traumati c real unspoken allows fantas)' to create a \Vorld
seem ing ly without fi ssu re.
In fan tasy, we produce an image of ourselvcs as we want to be-an
idea l ego or imaginary identifica bon. Peter Dayton fulfill s dus function
for Fred MaJ ison fir st of all in his ability to enj o)' women in a way that
Fred cannot. As the police tell us , Peter "gets more pussy tha n l toilet
seat." What's more, in the figure of Peter, Fred ca n see himself as inno
cent, l victim of d ark and siniste r forces anJ of a corrupted wom ao.
'\nd yet, P eter is not an innocent naif: he has a crimi na l record , a large
g rou p of cool friends, and an active sexual rela tionsh ip w it h h is girl
friend Sheila . In other words, Peter rep rese nts both innoce nce and so
phistica ti on-an ideali zed, thoug h contradicto ry, image. Through the
turn to Peter, F red rea li zes an impossible iden tity.
Like Peter, his parents ha ve a double quality to them. Th ey both
wear Icather jackets and da rk sunglasses-which suggest that they a re
"hip"-while they d ri ve a wood-paneled sta tion \vagon and watch wi th
fascination documentaries about straw berries-characteri stics that
suggest the seeming innoce nce of Leave It to Beaver. These oxymoronic
characteristics in both Peter 'LDd h is parents indicate em p hatically that
they are pan of a fantasy construction. This fan tasy can not al\ow Fred
to sec himself as so innocent as to be a dupe. bul. m:ithcr ca 11 il ul\nw h im
to see himsel f al> in any way cu l pable. O nl ) hy \\,111-. lllH 1 hi o, llW lint: can
fantasv assist Fred in escaping frorn h i~ d"' lI t
166 TI-iE IMP o ssl Ol f Ollv iIJ I VNCH
Fantasy not onl y offers us the image of ou rsclves as we want to be, it
is also the basis for our scnsc o f being situated in a "real world" rather
than a mys teri ous one plag ued by unce rtainty. T h is is c1ear in the con
trast between F red and Peter. W hereas F red seems to exist completely
outside of any personal hi story or social relations, Pete r has what seems
to be a "full" liJe: parents, frien ds, job, (crim in al) history, etc. Mystery
pervades F red's world. As Re ni Celeste poi nts out, "T he fir st \ovorld en
countered in this film is enveloped in the m ood of sllsp icio n, silence,
clues that ha ve no meaning and ac ts that ha ve no agen t."' 9 In contra st
to Fred , Peter doesn't li ve in a va cu u m , bu [ within a ratb er clea d y de
fined soc ial setting.
If it is the case that Fred's world is one of desire an d Peter's worl d is
one of fantasy, then this suggests that all the background elcments that
give our existe nce its sen se of completeness are fantasmatic. The ability
to grasp oneself in a specific socio h isto ri ca l setting is fant asmatic be
cause it makes us fed secure- rooted, connected to peo ple, place, and
tim e. F red 's existence has no such stability; it is the fr ee-floang exis
tence in d icative of a wo rld of d esire wimou t fantasy. In Fred 's wo rld ,
we ha ve no way of gettin g our bear ings, no clear m a rkers to latc h onto,
so tha t we should even hesitate to call ir a "wo rld " at all . Peter's, on the
other hand, offers us clear poin ts of rcfc rence. (n d epictin g this co n
trast, Lynch shows the extent to w hich a "sense of rea li ty" acrually has
liule ro d o w ith rea lity tself. It d epends fu nda mentall y u pon a we.ll
developed "sense of fantasy."lO
This contrast is pe rhaps m ost app rent in the styli stic d iffe rences be
tween the two wo rld s. Wbe reas Lynch shoots Fred's world w ith mini
mal depth of field, w ith m onoch rom atic tones, with low, ye llow light
ing, and wi th long periods of silence, he shoots Pete r's wo rld using the
traditional con ventions of H ollywood realis m . The mom ent after the
transform ation from F red to Peter, the style of the fil m u ndergoes a
wholesale chan ge. T hc prison, Aat and drah when F red occupied it, ac
quires dcpth and color. Peter's cdl has a lig ht shining through the win
do w that w asn' t shinin g iuto Fred's cell , and the fir st sho t of the prison
corridor has a depth of field that contrasts wit h the Aamess of Frcd's
world. W hen Peter ar rives at his parent's home, the lighting, d epth of
fieLd, and colors seem much more like w hat we a re used to seeing than
in che shots of F red and Renee's home. T he firs t shot of Pe ter at h is
bome d e pic ts him wearin g brig ht colors (red and w hite) a nd sitting on
.O H H I GH WAY I~ 7
a la wn chair in the hrightly lit backyard. This m ise-e n-scene marks a
complete ueparture from that of the first pa rt of the film , a departurc
tha t indicates th e eva nescence of myste ry.
In Perer's worId, spectJtors ha ve something to hold onto, a se nse of
d epth bcneath th e surface rather t han jusr em ptiness. Th e constant back
ground music also hclps to provide this seose of de pth , but it is the dia
logue that makes it especially apparent. Here, unl ik e in F red 's worIo, ac
tors speak their Iines without lengthy and awkward pauses, in a manne r
that suggests "rea l" co O\"C rsa tion. This realism in th e dialogue helps to
produce a world in which everything makes sense a no in w hich we are
not bombarded by a constant aura of mystery. In thi s wa y, the turn to Pe
te r's \\'orld provid es the same kind of respite for specta tors thar rhe turn
to Peter provid es for Fred. By shooting Pete r's world-me world of fan
tasy-in a reali stic style, Lynch m a kes eviden t the fanras matic under
pinnings of our sense of reality. H e shovvs, in other words, that it is pre
cise/y the fulln ess and depth-the fee/ing of "Ii[e"-of the fi lm ic
experience tha t are fa ntas m a tic. The sense of depm w e associa te with re
ali ty i~ w holl y a product of fantasy, an indication of a retrea l from desire.
The escape from desire becomes mosr apparent in the transformation
of Patricia A ryuette's Re nee io to Al ice Wa k efield . W e know mat a link
ex ists between F red Madison and Pere r Day ton beca use after both trans
formati ons -Fred into Pete r an d Peter into F reu-th e one occupies the
same p h ysical space that the other had occupi ed . In the case ofRe nee and
Alice, no such e/ ues exist. Howeve r, because Pa rrici a A rcuette plays both
roles, there is a t leas t an in dicati on-which will get substanl ated-that
Alice is a fanta sized vers ion of Re nee. The transfo rmation of Renee in to
Alice allow s F red (as Pete r Day ton) to so lve th e deacllock of Renee's J e
sire and conceive , on me leve! of fanrasy, of a way of enj oyin g her.
W hereas Re nee's pa st a nd her desire rema ined a m ystery ro Fred, Peter
is able to e nj oy A lice because he knows w hat she wants. In A lice, desire
find s its satisfaction, albeit only an i m agi na ry satisfaction. U ni i ke Renee,
Alice, as a fantasy ob ject, is know a ble. 1n other wo rds, in the fanta sy on e
finds;l solution to the desire ofthe Other. This diffe rence is most a ppar
ent in Alice's association w ith Andy. Though Renee seemcd- at !cast 10
Fred's mind-to ha ve sorne illicit in vol veme nl Wilh Andy. "he;; p rc)v ided
F red no detaiJ s,otbe rtha o procla.irning that Ii lCy \\.Tr, "Cr 1('lld,, " ;md tba t
Andy once told he r abo uLl " job," t hc sp!" irlc, .. t wJ.kl , ',ltpl'n l h,,; r mind.
W ith A licc, al! of the qut;srions ti lid .\II.,W ' \ ' ,
Ii,R rll r liMPOSS IUl1 l' ,", Vlf' I YN,: 1I
Afte r Pe te r becom es aware of A lice's involve ment with organized
crime and pornography, he wa nts to know the reason fur this involve
ment. Whi!c mey a re together a t rhe Starlight Motel , he asks, "How did
you get in volved 'vvith these fu cking people, A lice?" In response, Alice
repcats, word for word, Ren ee's description about m ee ting Andy and
him telling her about a job, excepr that Atice remembe rs the job and
d escribes ir to P etee. Whereas Renee's account is wholly ambiguous
and th us e/icits Fred's des ire-Alice p rovid es the in timate detail s ofthe
job, allowing Peter a share of her en joym e nt. The job consisted simply
ofone ofMe. Eddy's gangs te rs putting a g u n to her head w hile she took
her e/othes off in front of Mr. E d dy. Al ice 's u esc ription horr ifies
arouses-Peter, w ho now has confirmarion about w hat it is thar A lice
wants. He as ks he r, "Wh y didn't you just Icave ? ... You liked it, huh ;)"
Though Alice's sro ry upsets P ete r, it also offers him a fantasized answer
to the question, "what does the O the r want?"; it allows hi m to conceive
of the Other enjoying. Tbe answ er, not surprisingly, is the phall us, re p
resented by Mr. E Jdy, the site of powe r w ithin this fantasy construc
tion. The phall us fu nctions to signify the O ther's des ire.
We Can Only Go So Far
The phallu s ge ts i_Q tbe way of Peter's e nj oyme nt o f Alice. W hereas
F red coul d not e nj oy Renee beca use he h aJ no idea what she wa nted,
Pecer canIlot enjoy A lice bccause M e. Eddy stands in the way and has
ex pressly prohibited Peter from en joyin g he r. W hen be becomes sllspi
cious of Peter a nd A lice's re/atio nsh ip, Mr. &ldy pays Pe te r a vis it a t
Ar nie's Garage, w he re he impli citl y wa rns hi m a bout "making out"
w ith Alice, tell ing him,
I'm sure you noticed thac girl who was witb me the other day
good -Iooking blonde, she stayed in the ca r ? H er name is Alice. I
swea r 1 love that girl to death. If 1 eve r found out somebod y wa s
making out \Vith he r, I'd take th is [his gun], Lilld I'd shove it so far
up h is ass it would come out his mouth. And then you kn ow what
f' d do? .. . I'd hlow his fucking brain s ou t.
Me. E d d y's warning suggests thar he, as the faeher, will jealously guard
hi ~ priv tl t'gt' nr t: njnying the woman ." He defends this priv ilege by
lOST HI:GHWAY 169
brancJishing his heavily phallicized gun and th reateni ng castration for
the wayward son.
Though the father does prohibit Peter frum enjoying Alice, his fan
tasized ex isten ce does at least allow for the possi bi!ity of Alice's enjoy
ment, the sa tisfaction of her d es ire, and iD this way, the presence of the
father (anJ the phallus) provides respite from the desire of thc Other.
No matter how threatening the father m ay be. he is always a rdi cf, but
only a fantasi zed relief, as the film makes clear. By having th is father
figure emerge only through the fantasy, Lot Highway shows rhat his
status is necessarily fantasmatic, an indjcation th at lhe subject has aban
doned its d es ire. As Lacan notes in Seminar X X 1J/, "rhe father is a
symptom."22 Fred Madison fantasi zes the father's existence because he
offers a way of structuring his enjoyment via the fantasy and thus also
offers a respite fro111 dcsire. \\lhen lVI r. Eddy ap pears in the fantasy
structure as the agent of prohibition, he signals~as the fa ther always
does-th il t Fred has retreated from his desire.
Within the structllre of fantasy, the father provid es the anchor
upon which we can g round mcaning and get our bea rings. T hi s is the
function of the fa ther: he is the point from w hich everything else
can be made sensible. With rhe assistance of this paternal function, fan
tasy transforms what doesn't m ake sense into w hat does-questions
into answers. But the answc rs it provides-th e w ay it structures our
enjoyment~are oeve r pleasant, because it alvvays structures enj oy
m cnt as somcthing prohibited . It is not just that F red has a self-d estruc
ve fantasy and should try to come u p w itb a more positive one. T he
destructiveness ties in the nature of fa ntasy itsel f.
As Peter tries to enj oy A tice for hi msel f, to violare M r. E ddy's prohi
bition, the limits of the k ind of enjoyment possible th ro ugh fantasy
come clearly into view. Alice talks Peter in to a plan th at would allow
him to enjoy her, that involves robbing and killing A ndy (M r. E d dy's
hircling). When Peter enters Andy's house to carry out the plan, he en
counters enjoyment everywhere: th ere is a pornographic film wirh AI
ice in it playing on the far wall and a loud voice is chanting non sensi
cally." Getting so close to this enjoyment horrmes P eter, and , after
Andy~a barrier to it-dies, Peter sees a picrurc (l[ tvlr. Ed dy, A ndy,
Renee, and Alice, a piCl:ure thar indicAlc.;S th l' hr<':lk .lown orlhe barri er
between fan tasy anJ social rca li ty. H .' Wlllu ll'l" ti Ill,d, Rl' l1c'(' :lnd Alice
are the Silll1C pcrslln , and Ih ollg h .\ Iin 1,111,1111 111,,\ 1111 y"r lIe)I , Peler
170 11 11 IMI' o~.\lnlt I)AV I II ' Y/l e "
beg ins to get a splitting h(CaLlacbc, suggesting rhat he's not so sure. 24 As
he gets too cl ase to the poss ihili ly of enjoy ing his object through the
fantasy, th e real obj ec r (Ren t:e) begi n<; to intrude into the fantasy, thereby
making the horror of enjoyrn em m ore and more evident.
After seeing the picture uf both A lice and Renee tgether, the fan
t,lSY starts to unravel with the intr usion of the social rea lity. Peter, with
his head aching, goes upsta irs look ing fo r a bathroorn but fincJs in stead
a hotel room. vVh en P eter opcns the doo r, he sees a wildly distorted im
age of Renee hav in g sexo (Watching the film , ir is difficult to d etermine
whether it is Renee or Alice, though the screenplay indicates that it is
Renee. The ambiguity suggests the fu rther breakdown of the fantasy.)
Renee calls out to hi m, in l distorted voice, "Did you want to talk ro
me? Oid you want to ask m e why? " As she says the word "wby," Re
nee's voice becomes complete!y garbled, indicating that th e sense of
what Renee is say ing here becomes overwhelmed by the en joy m ent of
the voice itsclf-an enjoyment beyond the m ean ing of the word. The
fi lm indicates the overwhcl ming p resence of enj oym ent here not onl y
throug h the distortion of Renee's voice but also throug h the di st rtion
of the im age and of the narrative irsel f.
Until this mome nt, Peter Dayton's fan tasma tic narrati ve has haJ a
certain consistency, th e sem blancc o f orde r. But when Peter wa\ks up
stairs in Andy's house looking for a bath room and finJs Renee having
sex in a m otel room , cnjoy menl breaks fr ee wirhi n the fan tasy construc
tion, and th e fantasy is sta rring to teeter. Horrifi ed by this en counte r wi th
enj oyme nt, Peter quickl y shuts th e doo r, eage r for some so rt of respite.
W ith A ndy ou t of the way, nothing stand s in the way of Peter's enjoying
the fantasy object. Sur w hen nothing sta nds in the way ofthis enjoyment
and the fantasyca n no longer kee p it at a safe distance, AlicelRenee-the
difference is evaporating-becomes un bea rable for Peter, just as Renee
was un bearable for F red . Ra ther rhan providing respite, the fantasy leads
tr. e subject do w n the path rhat he tri ed to esca pe.
When Ali ce and Peter driv e out to the desert to sell the jewels they've
taken from Andy, the fant ;,;;y fin ally dissolves compl etel y. While wait
ing for their buyer to a rrive, Alice and Pete r beg in to have sex in front
of their car's shi n ing headligh ts. Peter comes as close as he can get to
enj oying his fantasy object unencumbered by the threat of the facher.
Lynch t.:vcn cOmm unica tes thi s proxi l'n iry ro enjoyment throug h the
form nf lhl l ltll: ti ,,:: sc rccn hecolnes so br ig hl Ihat th e aud ience can
I OH m GHWAY i7 1
barely continue w atchng.25 Peter has gotten too close to the fantasy ob
ject and destroyed its o ntologi cal consistency.
\Vhile they a re ha ving sex, Pete r repeatecUy tells Alice, "1 want you,
I wa nt you ." After a few minutes, Alice gets up, says to Peter, "You'U
nev er ha ve me," ancl wal ks into the nearby cabin. As she en te rs the
cabin, Peter transforms back into Fred M ad ison. At the m ome nt when
Peter is a bout to "have" Alice, he loses her: the fa ntasy dissolvcs, and he
falls ba ck into his identity before the fantasy. This transformation re
veals, as Slavoj Zi ze k notes, "that the fantas m atic way out was a false
exit, that in all imaginable/ possible universes, failure is what awaits
us."26 Getting too close to "having" the bntasy object triggers the disso
lution of the fantasy. Peter can only " have" A lice insofar as he doesn't,
insofar as Mr. Eddy's prohibition hars him from completely enjoying
her himself. This is a crucial scene in the film beca use it reveals so
cleady the limitations of L1ntasy. Though it appears to promise us di
rect access to the object, fantas y always fails to achicvc this access. The
momen t at which we would actuaU y enjoy the object directly in the
fantas)', the object gets up and wa lks away, and the fantas)' structure it
self dissolvcs. Fantasy requires sorne distance if it is to rema in pleasur
abl e and stable.
Th e Compulsion to Repeot
After the dissolution of the fa ntasy, Fred once again encounters the
M ystery M an as he goes in th e cahin to look for A lice. F red inqu.ires
ahollt Alice to the Mystcry Man, but the Myste ry Man refuses to recog
nize Alice's existence. As a superego ic force, he de mands al! o f Fred's
enjoyment for himself, not even allowing him the smaU ration of enjoy
ment the fantasy provides him in compensation for his sacrifice of cle
sire . T he M yste ry Man tells Fred, "T he re is no Alice . H e r name is Re
nee. If she told you her name was A lice, she was Iying." A fter forcing
Fred to ac know ledge the nonexistence of the fantasy object (an object
of enj oyme nt), the M ystery Man begins to qllestion F red an d to pursue
him with a vid eo came ra. H e asks, " And yom n~ulle ~ W ha t lhe fuck is
yotl r name?" In chasing Fred w ith a carn era amI d ~l1la n ding that he
pro nouncc bis name, the Myste ry M all:lI tlllI r ... ln ro lll p\.l Frcd lO fu lly
rej ec t fantas)' fo r the social reali ry. a rv:d itv 11 1 Wllll ll ' Hl~'s lla me illcli-
cates one 's place.
111 11"11 IMl'OS~I Hl IlAVII I I YN'.: II
Once F red takes up this place, it signals a successfu J internali za tion
of the la w a nd installatiol1 f t he su pe rcgo as the in ternal agen cy of the
law. Ir also signals th e disappca ra oce o f all enjoyment, eve n the enjoy
m e nt attached to the fantasy. T he p resence ofthis en joyment bl oc ks th e
identification wi th the fa ther, w hich installs the superego within the
psyche beca use it sustains the [a ther as an external barricr to th e e njoy
m ent of the fantas)' objcct. On ly with the dissoJu tio n of the fan tasy can
the internalization of the father as superego full y take pl a ce.~7
After the fantasy has dissolved an d F red has accepted his symbolic
mandate, he is able to kili the father (M r. Eddy) w ith the help of the
Myster y !vhn because the father is, at this point, b ut a remnant .of the
fantasy. A fter Fred has in ternalized rhe paternal authority, th e Mystery
Man can shoot Mr. Eddy in the head beca use exte rn al aut horit y is no
longer necessa ry ro control F reci 's beha vio r; he has thoroughly intro
jected this autho rity now in the for m o f the sllpe rego. W hen th e Mys
tery Man shoots M r. Ed dy, the bearer of the la w, we see an enactm ent
of what L acan describes in Seminar 1: "The supe r-ego is at o nc a nd the
same time the law and its d es truc tion."i T he supe rego is rhe comple
tion of the fath c r's functi o n and thus re nder s the fa ther un necessa ry.
N ot ool y is the ta ther ll nnecessary, but he also offers a poten tia l for sub
version tba t the su percgo doeso 't. As an ex ternal auth ority, ir is ta r eas
ier to transg ress the fa ther's auth ority tha n th at ofthe supe rego. W hen
the au thority of [he external fath er becomes uon eccssary and the au
thority of th e su perego becom es fir mly entrench ed. we can be su re that
the subject (F red, in this case) has complete ly giVC Il up his dcsire, sacri
ficed it to the la w. In maki ng this sacrifice, Fred ga in s access to the fa
th er's secret, the secret of the law, a nd this secret is w hat rh e M ystery
Man w h ispers into F red's ear afte r he kills M r. Edd y.
W ha t is rhe la w 's secret ? That the law is nothing bll t its secret, that
the father ne ver rea ll y was alive w ith enjoyrne nt, exccpt in the fantasy
of the sOO. This becomes ev iden t w nen the Myste ry Man , jusI: p rior to
shooting hirn, presents Mr. Eddy w ith a video screen that dis p lays
the latter in his obscene e nj oy men t. W hat we sce on the scree n, how
ever, is not M r. E ddy enj oying hi m sel f, but him watching other peoplc
ell joy. T he fath er, th e m aster of enj oymen t, turns out to be capable onl y
of watc hing nthers cn joy, Ilot enjoy ing hilll sd f. In th is sense, the fact
thM Mr. E d d y is a pornogra phe r ma kcs pcrf"(:ct ~t:n Sc. W h ile we may
I mlgin c i .t., (;tllIi , i7.~-t h a t lhe IlQ fl1 l1gr:tphcr i!> ("()II ~tant l y awash in
j OH H I C ll wA Y 1 / .<
enjoym ent, he is actua lly constantly awash in lht.: e njoy m ent of o the rs,
an enjoyment that he merely obser ves . The Mystery Man lets F red
know that the Fa ther has neve r held th e secrel of en joying women , as
F red had previously supposed, anu that Mr. E d dy is an impotent p re
tender. As Lacan puts it in Seminal' VlI, ") f for us God is dead , it is be
cause he alw ays has bee n dead , and that's what F reud says . He has
never been the fa th er except in the m ythology of the son."2<} In other
word s, Mr. Eddy's enjoymcnt, his vitaJity, o nl y existed within F r ed 's
fantasy, insofa r as Fred supposed its ex istence. F red can no \\! kno w this
secret of the law beca use he ha s al ready sacrih.ced hi s obj ect, and, hav
ing made this sacrih.ce, he rep resents no th reat to this law. It is thus nnl y
a fte r having sac rificed our enjoyment to the law that we learn thi s is a
sacrifice made in va in.
In practice, of course, such a completely successful interpellati o n
eve n if only te mporary, as in thi s case-n evc r actually occurs . Th at is,
\\le nevc r get to the point whe re we no longer require the external rep
resenta ti ve of the la w. It occurs in Lost Highway because the film hold s
social rea liry and fantasy separate. E xccpt for Lynch 's excessi vely nor
m al perspective, the process o f accepting one's symbolic m a ndate neve r
w o rks in ap ure form, completely unaccompani ed by fanta sy. Fan tasy
doesn't completely dissolvc, but con tin ues to function as a su pple m en t
to this process. Because wholly accepting o ne's symbolic m andate re
quires a forfeiting of one's enjoyment, it tends to a rouse diswntent, as
we see in the C:lse of F red. At the momen t of subm ission ro the la w
th e moment of the supe rego's com plete introj ection- Fred should be a
pe rFectly docil e subject. He is be reft of eve n im ag in a ry, subs titute en
jo ymcnt. Instea d of bein g docile, howevc r, F red respo nds w ith a re
newed erfon t subven the power of the law. Withou t th e supp le m e n
tal, substitute enjoyme nt w hich fantas)' provid es, pa n o f the control
tha t the law has ove r Fred eva porates. We thus see the w ay in w hich th e
imaginary enjoyment that fanrasy provides assists in the process of cre
ating contented, d ocile subjects. T his becumes appare nt in L ost High
way as we see \vhat happens when fantas)' is absent .
At this po int, F red thinks that if he can commu nicate rhe secret o f
the law to h irn scl f prior to th e sacrifice ofhis desi 1'1':, Ihe n ht.: \>vill be able
toac t upon h is recogrtilio l1 . In de picting :n'" in :1 11 ,ll tl' l lI p' tu com n'l u
nicate w ith him,cl f, Ly nch is ag;i ll ~l' p, If ,I I III~ wlil ll Wt ,,,,,.dly cxpcri ..
ence as so rnethillg sC:J lllkss. F rc'd I , ... , ' In'Ie Il 'wr. diftl If"lIt IIHII IH:nts:
I/~ II IJ ~ IMI'0 5S IIJII ' , ,,'1 lr) I Ytl C It
one :lfter his successful integration in to rhe social order and one prio r to
it. The latter m o m ent is, in actual ity, inaccessible to us, though we con
stantly imagine that we a re accessing it. This is w h y the fi lm shows
Fred as he drives hom e and tells himself through the intercom of his
house, "Dick L aurent is d t.:ad" -th e reby repeating the o pening scene of
the film (bu l this tim e from outside th e house). In tclling himself that
" Dick Laurent is dead," Fred is trying to make clear to himself tha t the
father (Dick Lau rentlM r. Eddy) who b e supposes to be enjoying women
is alread y dead. If he couId communica te thi~, he would save himsdf
the sacrifice uf the object to a oead aurnority. But the communication
misses the mark. Rathe r than a lJ aying Fred 's suspicio ns that som eone
e1 se is enjoying R e nee, this remark m ade throug h the interco m actua lly
se rves to multipl y them (ir not to trigger thern itselD-again launching
Fred on the pa th w e havc just wit nessed for the last two hours.
The Fred Madison w ho knows th e truth Aees down the lost hig h
way after inform ing his counterpart a baut D ick La urent's dea th , and as
the film end s, h e begins to have a nothe r breakd own, ano ther Aight iOla
a new fantasy. The sho t of Fred's breakdown e nds th e film , and it in di
cates ma t che cycle we have secn w ilI play itself out agai o a n d aga in. He
can escape into fantasy, but it will never provid e rhe relief it prom ises.
By bringing the fi lm arou nd again to the p lace w here it begins,
L ynch revcals tha t th e rela tionship between d esi re and fa ntasy is un
dcrw ri tten by certain constancy. We a lte rnate between the expericnce
of desi re and tha t of fantasy: fa ntasy succceds where desi re fai ls. Desire
keeps th e object o ut of reach, and fantasy offe rs us access to it. But \ovhat
L ost Highway sh ows is tha t in the last instance th ere is no difference be
tween success a nd failure: even w hen we const ruct a scenario that al
lows us to have the impos sible o bject, we cannot possess the key tha t
re nders the ob jecr enjoya bl e. H av ing the impossible object embodyi ng
the u ltimate e nj oyment show s us the exten t to which we rea ll y don't
have it. The speculative id e ntity of o ur social rea lity a nd our private
fantas ies becom es a pparent throug h the failur e immane nt in success.
Both soc ia l realiry and pri vate fa ntas ies ci rcula te a round a fund a mental
im possi bility, rhough they figure th is impossi bility in opposing m odes.
As we al terna te between the m, we con tinue to endure the impossibiJity
of the obj ect.
o r all Lyltr t. 's fil ms, Lo.t High l//l/\I st.:e m s tI) ha\'e rhc most critica l
a ttit lll k 111 \\>, 11 " L l llm ~y. T h . . f':l nt:l\II1 :lIi< l"\":'1 W Iw \ (m) c'i (I n ;lvenue
I IlI r . w"y 17
through which the suhject rturns to the social reali ry it escaped; fantas
matic success hecomes identical wh failure. But these qualifications of
fantasy's power should not be seen as part of an ind ictment of fantas )' as
such. An absolute commitment to raatasy is, even in Lost Highway, the
controlling force in Lynch's filmmaking. It is only the commi tm ent to EIGHT The Ethics ofFantasizing in The Straight Story
fantasy that reveals the ahsence of an alternative and the failure inhcr
ent in every success. Paradoxically, without the tUffl to fantasy, we
would remain duped by the alternatjve possihility tha t fa ntas)' promises
and appears to provide. The turn to fa m asy lIustrates for us the iden
tity of where we're escaping from and where w e're escaping to, and by
seeing their speculativc idcntity, we can transform our relationship to
the ruling symbolic structure. We can stop contcn ting ourselves with
fantasizing an alternati\iC world and instcad work to reveal this alter
native world that is already in our midst. 30

An Absolute Commitment to Fantasy

(n 1999, Ly nch, a di recto r kno wn for images of extre me violence

and expli cit sexu al ity, an d D av id Mamet, a director kno w n for w itty,
p rofaniry-laced d ialogue, mad e fi lm s tiJ at received G ratings from the
Moton Pi cture Association of Amcrica. O n thi.s leve! alone, Lynch's
The Straigllt Sto!"y and Ma mct's Tlle WifIJlow Eoy re p resented d ram atic
departures for each director. It almost secms as if they made these films
in order lO con fo und aud ienc es and critics. Thc irony of the Grating
(u ncommon for any mains tream ad ult release) for a Lynch or Mamet
fil m created th e k ind of shock that both aimcd to produce within their
films w he n (me simply saw an ad verti se ment for them. Lynch became
acquainted w ith the script for The Straight Story through cowriter Mary
Sweeney, his longtime romantic partner and editor, and part of its ap
peal for him was perhaps the incongruity of the story and the expecta
tions surrounding his name.
Most viewers of Lync h's films rega rd The Straight Story as an excep
ci onal fil m . l I l scems to stick out am ong Lynch 's film s beea use, as the title
suggests, it Iacks the weirdness and [he fo rmal eccentricities that one ex
pects frOln ,ht"~l' film s. Even th e narrativc, whi ch n::cOunts the trek un
dn ta kt' n hv <\ 1\1[1 Strnight (Richard Fa rmw ()II h) on II bw nm owe r to

17' TiiI IM ~ 05S II" r CAVH , I Y I " " 177

reach his estranged brother, is straightforward, in direct contrast to
Lynch's previous film Lost Highway , w hich has the most com plc:x narra
tive structu re ofany ofLynch 's films. The mise-en-sd:ne, the eJiting, the
shot composition, the sound-all these elements lack Lynch's usual ex
cessiveoess. The Stmight Sto!')! seems almost entirely free from the fantas
matic distortion that characterizes a Lynch film ancl provides an arena
for the exploration ofthe hidden und erside ofcontemporary socicty.2
But w hat appears to be an absence of fantas m a tic distortion in The
Straight Sto,.y is misleading. The deception results from the na ture of
the fantasy it presen ts-the American heartland as a site of authentic
community- and the extent to which we cannot see the film as fantas
matic indica tes the extent of our investment in the fantasy that it pre
sents. The exaggerated purity of the American hea rtland in the film is
an index of the film's fantasma tic disrortion, indicating that this distor
tion is fully at work in T lze Straight Sto,-y. The film's central characte r
comm its himself to the logic of fantasy in a way that no character in an
other Lynch film does. A lvin Straight constructs a fantasy w hereby he
can trave! by himseLf hundreds of miles , despi te a disabili ty that pre
vents h im from driving, and reu nite w ith his est ranged brother Lyle
(Harry Dean Stanton). Alv in never d ev iates from his effort ro rea lize
this fantasy despite the trauma attachcd to it, and his commitmen t has
a direct effect on the structure of the fil m .
The poin t is not that we mus t take the titl e o f T he Straight Story
ironically and view the film through this le ns. As N icholas Rom bes
poin ts out, the temptation to inte rpret Lynch \ fi lOl s as ironie reflec ts
our own cul tu ral immersion in irony as spectators rathe r than anythi..ng
about the fil ms themsel ves . He claims, "Lynch's films were among the
first ro move beyond postmod ern ism 's ironic, parodic a pprop riation of
historical genres and narrative conventions, and ... to this day read ings
of Lynch as 'ironic' persist because irony has become the domina nt
forOl of reading in a culture that recognises narrati ve (historical, politi
calor otherwise) as mere pe rformance."3 T he urge to interpret Ly nch
ironicaJly reaches a pea k w ith The Straight Sto/y beca use the alternatlve
seems to req uire agreeing with fierce Lynch critic Jeff J o hn ~on 's assess
ment that "Ly nch's vision of America in T he Stm ight Stmy fis] even
more m ythical than the Re publican Nal i()nal Cllll1l11iuc(."'s." ;! If we in
terpret the film a~ ironie, we can ;,1 k; l'a illl;lJ.!il\t:' 'IIIIH' t!iswncc bctwcc n
the film m aker of HLut: I/dVCl alld dijo, \ 1_11111. 1111: Iflll1il ill lt'rp rt: I;lt inn
1/11 1111 IMP 05~ lbll ( ..v l li 1.'(NI; 1t
also inserts distance betwec n Lhe spccta to r amI the screen, prorecting us
from w hat we see there. Wc tbus ap pear to be sruck, as are many critics
ofLynch, betvvccn an ironic read ing and a reading that dismisses Ly nch
as a thoroughly reactionary filmmaker.
There is a diffcrcnce, howc ~o cr, between the m yths of the Republican
Nationa'l Committee anc1 the filmic fantasy th at David Lynch constructs
in The Straight Stmy. Though neithe r the title no r the fi lm is ironic, it is
avowedly-and this is w har Johnson misses as a viewe r of T he Straight
Story aoel of every Lynch film-fantasmati c. T his m eans that th e film
encourages us ro view the world that ir d epi cts as a world of fan tas)'. 1t
does this in the way thar L ynch's films typically do--b y creating a di
vide betwee n a world of desire aod abscncc and a contrasting wo rld of
fantasy. Wha t Joh nson calls the "absurd rcaJi sm " of the fantasy world
docs not reinforce but rcveals the f,lO tasmatic status of the typical rn yths
of the American heartlancl. s Ly nch presents hi s m ythicaJ image of th e
hea rtland not as real ity but as the res ult of an extreme fantasmatic
d istortion.
Th is does not mean that Lynch aim s to decon struct these A meri can
myths in orde r to destroy their ideo logical t:ffectivc ness. The Straight
Story nei ther affi rms no r undermines rhe image u f America it proffe rs.
Instead, the film ill ustrates p recisely w har ir would take to cons truct
such a m yth icaJ world. One can llave the my thical Am erica, but o ne
m ust create it rhrough ad opting the p ro per artiLU clc towa rd fantasy.
The approp riateness of the ti tle of The Straight Story stems from
Ly nch's belie f that one arri ves at the straight throug h fanta!imatic dis
tortio n. That is to say, we construct our reali ty through a fantasy struc
ture tha t strips away the m yste ry inhering in our quotidian experi ence.
Pa ntasy fills in the ga ps of o ur dail y lives and thereby secu res our feel
ing that th is ex perience is "rcal. " W ithout fantasy, our reality would be
bizarre, mysterious, and ultimatcly incoherent-prccisely akin to tb e
world of desire in a L ynch film . In this scnse, ir is entirely app ro p riate
that L ynch's most authenticall y fantasmati c film bears the title The
Straight 5tory.
Material Lack
U nlike Ly ll Lh'., Iltner fi lms, the <lisl inctic)I1 1)(; 1wcc n the worl J of desi re
and Ih ~ \\"1 1/ 1.1 01 ClIltasy Joe~ nClt rnan il('1 il !\l"11 :, ~ llI uch 0 11 lhe lc vcl of
'/11 ,1~ .. " . lI r ,H ORY 1/'1
film form as th rough rhe situation of the main ch a racte r A l vin Straighr.
Tho ugh the first thirty minutes of the film wo rk to es tablish a n atti
tude of desire through mise-en -sd:ne a nd editing, more im po rtantl y it
focu ses on Alvin as a disabled, lacking slIbject. 6 Lync h es tablishes a
world of dcsire through his initial depiction of A lvin's infinnity and his
inability tu ca rc for himself. Each scene in the beg inning of the film
highlights this inability and reveals it as irremediable. F ro m these
scenes, it is cIear that the only possible sollltion fo r Alvin \Vi II be ;] fan
tasmatic one.
After establishing shots of a field and a small tow n main street, the
narrative of the film commences with a scene that reveals A lvin as a
figure of lack and emphasizcs the role of absence in this filmic world.
We see a shot of a white house with a woman sunbathing in the ya re!
next to the house. After th e woman gets up and walks into the house
next door, we hear a thud emanate from the white house. The woman
returns to her lawn chair hav ing missed the sound a nd resumes sun
bathing. A fri end comes look in g for A lvin, a nd we fi nd out th at the
sound was Alvin fal!ing-and he is stilllying prone on the floor.
Lynch introduces the protagonist only on the film's audio track as a
thud, visual!y present in the scene a s a n a bsence. Even the sou nd of his
fal! remains unhea rd within the diegesis beca u se th e ne ig hbor goes into
her house at the exact time of the fall. In addition , the type of sound
the thud of him falling to the fl oor-tha t marks A lvin's d ebut in the
film bespeaks his incapacity. N o t o nly is he unabl e to w alk even wi th
the aid of hi s eme, bu t he can't manage to signal fo r assistance w hcn he
does fall. When Alvin's frie nd Bud (J oseph A. Ca r penter) finall y e nters
the house and se es Alvin helpless on the Aoor, we see Sud, th e next
door neighbor Dorothy (Jane Ga ll oway), aod A lvin's daugh te r Ro~e
(Sissy Spacck) having a discussion w h ile A lvin re m ains on the floor.
he extended time that A lvin lies on tbe Aoor afier someone has fo und
him renders this helpless position even more conspicuou s than it oth e r
\Vise would be.
lm mediatel y after this scene, we see Bud d ri vi ng A lvi n to t he d octor.
The very fa ct that Al vi n requ ires someo ne tn dr ive hilll attests to hi s
lack of ind epen dcn ce, bu t the way thal Blld drivn hil1l unckrlines this
poinr. W e see Bud, A lvi.n, and Rose in Bll d\ 11 1.1 I:lr 111 ~ 1 a~ lhey are
about ro a rri vt at the docto r. Bud , dr ,vll1g , 11I\\'ll dl.lll dw nvcragl'
pe rs <) n migh t wa lk, amI whl..' lI he lillt1 I) -'''' 11 .; llit~ t i! Iw li1~e' tl u: l '"
IHII rtl [ I M~OS~ I"ll OA V 'lI I.YI\j, : II
gine in neutral. Not onl y is A lvin una ble to ca re for himself, he must
rely n n othe rs who can baxel y care fr)[ th emsclves.
His pathos lies in the gap betwee n his actual situati o n as a subjcct and
how he represents hilllself to others" Outside the doctor's office he stub
bornly resists going to see thc docto r (Da n F lann ery) and once inside cat
egoricalIy rej ec ts tests, X-ra ys, and a wa lker.\Ve ha ve aLready seen A lvin
incapacitated, a nd this defiance seems more comic than heroie: by pro
fessing his strength and independence, he highlights his near-total de
pen dence on the O ther for both physical "id and symbolic recognition .
The doctor says, "If you don't m ak e some changes quickly, there wil! be
some serious consequen ces," but Alvi n reports to Rose, "He said J was
going to li ve to be a hundred." He is al! the more the figure oflack insofa r
as he artem pts to a void facing the incontrovertible facts of his situation
and replace those facts with a pose of self-a ss urance .7
The first pa rt of the film emp hasizes our lack as spectato rs as wel l
beca use it e mphas izes what we don' t see rather than what we do. We
expe rience the key scenes in this part ind irectl y: the prim ary action oc
curs outside the frame, and we hea r it vvhile seeing som cthing else. As
he often does, Lynch crea tes d esire throug h a disju nc tion betwcen the
visua l and audio track s. By leav ing the ce ntra l action outs ide the frame,
Lynch place s the spectator in m e place of th e des iring subject a nd en
cou rages us ro recognize ourselves as lacki ng . A bsence becollles prese nt
in ou r expe rience of the fi lm . This occu rs w hen Alvin fall s at the begin
n ing of the fi lm, and ir happe ns again w hen we le;rn a bo ut L ylc's
strok e, the evcnt that t riggers A lvin's journey.
The scene begins with a shot of A lvi n and Rose sittin.g in the hOllse
looking out a win dow at night during a storm. W e see th e storm h ere
indirectl y, throug h the exp ressioIlS on the faces of A lvin and Rose, as
wel l as through the Aashes oflightning that briefly iIlumin ate the room.
As they look o ut the wimlow, the phone rings in the kitchen, and the
film cuts to Rose walk ing to an swe r t. D uring the tclephone conversa
rio n that she has, however, we return to a visual of Alvin looking out
a t th e storm, as we hear Rose talking in the background. Beca use we
only hear R osc 's side of the con versa tion, the a mount of informa tion
we receive is limjted. She says, "HelI () .. . m is is .. . Rose . .. ycah .. .
yea h " .. O h IH/ U ncle Lyle .. . W hen? ... OK . . . 1'11 leIl him .. .
yc:a h .. . 01' . . . hyc, bye." H c r stltll ( r ha, tll e efll;ft uf rn aki ng this
-rypl ic l" 11 11 \ t 1 \al " 111 I ve n more. <o , ],111 i I I ~ . I pp:II ( 1i 1 tI! :1 I , ofl1cthi ng h:1 5
'lit ' s r" .,, /i ~ i l' ,'. 10.r IHI
happened to Uncl e Lyle . W hen she return s to Al vin, Rose tells him ,
"Th at was Bobby .. . Uncle Lyle had a ... a stro ke." Just as Rose says
this, a Rash of lightning brightens the room, and a cl ap of th under
so unds .
Th e del ay between app rehend ing th at an important eve nt has oc
curred and lea rning what this event is characteri zes a world of desire.
F or the d esiring subj ec t th e object neve r appea rs exac tly w here--o r
when-lhe subj ect anticipates it. Thi s d is,onn ec t between the subject
and its object h as th e cffec t of const itu ting ao object as the obj ec t. The
privil eged obj ect i ~ the privi lcged object insofa r as w e arri ve too soon or
too late to appreh end it.
Perh aps the scene that draws the dearest contrast betwee n th e open
ing world of d esire and the worlJ of fantasy in The Straight Story is one
,;v ith no relation to Al vin's journey. W hen we see it initiall y, it seem s tu
be nothing but a m oment of Lynch's typical we ird ncss, a m o ment w ith
out any na rrati ve im portance. After Alvin lea rns of hi s b ro the r's cond i
tion, we see a snot of Rose talkin g on the phone at nigh l whil e looking
out the kitchen wi ndow. Ly nc h cuts from a shot of Rose look ing te> a
shot of what she sees out the w indo w: a ball roll s into th e fr am e, and a
boy run s to pick it up an u stands w ith it in the midd le of the [rame. Af
ter seeing the boy, we see Rose agai n looking out the win dow contem
plativel y. View ing the fi lm fo r the fi rst time, one can have no idea wh y
Rose is look ing at the boy in the way toat she is o r why Lynch includes
th is scene in the film . In th is wo rld , the speclator ex periences herlhim
sel f in a state of non-knowledge, attempting to d ec ip her the desire of
the O thee (that is, the fi lm itse lf) that in fo rms the ioclusion of the sccne.
Th e w orld of fa ntasy, in contrast, fill s these gaps and p rov ides th e spec
tator wi t.h a se nse of know ing the w hole sto ry.
N ea r th e beginnin g of A lvin 's fantasma tic journey, we lea rn the
bac kground of this mysteri ous scene . A lvin tell s runaway teen C rys tal
(A nas tasia Webb), w hom he bcfriends , che story of Rose's child ren . Be
cause of a fire th at badly burn ed one of Rose's four ch ildren whjle Rose
had left them w ith a babysjtte r an d becau$e of her men tal d isabili ry, th e
state too k custod y of al! her chil d ren. H ea rin ~ th is accoun t of R ose's
history allow s us to rev isi t the secmin gly IHIIl Sl'nsictl scc.:ne uf the boy
pick ing up his ball a nd to u ndcrsl,1I1d !I w IIII ll l iIl g 111:11 Ihi s im ~lgc he ld
fo r Rose. But as spectators we.: pt l"- / I.I/ t' tlIt. " /y.11 I y , d IIIt ~ccn c only
afte r "ve have clll l'ru l lhe \Vor ld lIt L lllt . I ~". Ilv rt 1 " .h\llI(\~ I "i ~ t:O /ll ra\ t
181 1111 I Mrl'}UIU II IJAV l lI l'ltl t ll
betwee n an initi al expe ri ence oCnon -k nowledge and a la ter expe rience
of fuI! knowledge, Ly nch afflr ms in a way that he often d oes the dis
tinction betwcc n the world of dcsirc and th e worl d of fa ntasy. T h is ds
tincti on holds not just fo r A lvin ~lS a charactt:.r within the filmic diegesis
but also for us as spec ta to rs rela ling to the fi lm as a wo rk of arto
Narrating What Isn't There
W hat The Straight StOIY ma kes clear is to at fa ntasy a ppeals not beca use
it sol ves our desire but because it explaios w hat desire Icaves inexpl ica
ble. Thi s bccom es appa rent w ben w e con sider how the world of fa n tasy
all ows us to unde rs tand th e earl ie r scene w here Rose sta res out the w in
dow at the boy holding a ball. Most fundamen ta ll y, fa ntasy se rves as a
m od e of und ersta nding. The turn from a world of des ire to a wo rld of
fantasy is not a turo from th e lack of th e im poss ible o bj ect to the fuI!
p resence of thi s object. Fa ntasy places lhe lac k in a narrative COntcxt
that rend ers it se nsible. O nce we tu ro to fan tasy, we cease to be baunted
by l nonse nsica ll ack and begin to confront one that we ca n u ndersta nd.
L ac k loses its ontologica l character and acquires a m ea n ing.
A lvin's fa ntasy does not returo him to his youth o r reunite him wi th
a n im possible love, and in this scnse perhaps ir is a less ambitious fan
rasy than we usu a lly n nd in a Lynch fi lm. Howeve r, it d oes all ow hi m
to accom plish a tas k t hat appea rs impossibl e from w irhin his sym
bolc coorJi na te5. Eve ryone w ithin the filmic reali ty d ism isscs the pos
sibi lity of Alv in's t ravcling hundreds of miles on a lawnm ower to see
bis brother. Bis feiend s m oc k him for even consid cn ng it, and his
da ug h ter Rose ists ;1 11 the fac loes (his d isabili ty, the d is tance, and so on)
th at m a ke th e trip impossible. 8 Even Tom (Eve rett McGi ll ), the sales
pe rson w ho se lls A lvin th e mower th at w ill ta ke him on lhe journey
an d wh o ex presses wa rm sympa thy toward him , says that he has always
thougbt of A lvin as an intelligent guy until he hCJ rd about thi s schem e.
N ot one othe r cha racte r in th e film believes th at A lvin has a ny ch ance
of accomplish ing wha t he sets OUt to d o.
When the fi lm turns from the world of desire to th e wo rld of fantasy,
we do oot sec a radical change in rnise-en-sce ne as we d o in Lost High
way Jnd Alvin cl oes not appell as a d iffcrent Jcto r in order to aCCO tn
pl ish the impIss iblc. We do, howc ver, sc<: SO/Tl t.! ~ igo ificant ch anges on
Ihe Icvd ,,1 111 111 1;l flll as Lynch i n truJ ult: ' 11It' L II11;15 Y w(~ rld . The bc
/J1i 1 '.A ll j lll -:rOR'I" lIu
ginning of the fantasy occasions a change in music as Angelo Badala
W hen hi s mower brea ks d ll \V1l h,: 11" R().~c send him bis social secu rity
menti's "Alvin's Theme" begins to play. The camera tracks slowly along
check in ord er to pay For r/1l' np.dh, .ind when rhe O lsen twin:; (Kevin
the middle of a road looking straight down on the middle linc and then
Farley and John Parley) fl x il . h~ h.l rg.lim with them fol' a bette r price.
pans over to Alvin's movver driving down the sioe ofthe road. After a
Though he rcmaim old. : I.~(' 1111 Illllgcr incapacita tes him but actual ly
pan to th e roaa stretching out in th e distance, the camera tilts to the
ennobles hi lll, providill,l!; 1/1 ,: \\ ,f!lm :Ind experiencc rh at oth er charac
blue sky ano finally back to Alvin's mower. This series of pans leads to
ters lacle Though we dCltl'!"wirm'~~ ;lny ex ternal transform ali an in AI
a sequence of sweeping hdicopter shots of the fowa fields, including
vin betvvecn the hegi nn iflg C1frllC Fil m ano his journey, he non etheles$
one showing a combine harves ting crops. This introouction to the fan
becomes a totall y diff,:n: nr /.. ind !Ir l>ub ject when he enters rhe fa ntasy
tasy world emphasizes its grandeur and beauty. Whereas relatively world of the jourm;y.
small sets characterized the world of desire (Alvin's house, the interior
But this transFn rma litl rJ docsn't OCcur al! at once. Initi aUy, Alvin 's
fantasy includes a fa u r!,!. :1 ~ lhe firsr mower that A lvin uses to attempt
of the ge neral store, tlle: main street of the small town), Lynch estab
lish e:s the se:tting in the world of fantasy as vast open space repl ete with
the journey break s down af(cr (lnIy a few mil es. If d Ie beginn ing of AI
possibility. The use of lo ng pa nning shots, which begin with Alvin 's
vin's trip to se\.' his brothcr represcnts [he o lm 's lUrn to fantasy, thc in
trip, helps to create: this se nse of openness as wel\. This shift in the film's
c! usion of the initia l fail un: 01" the trip seems stra ngc. Thc failllre of AI
fol'msuggests that the turn to fantasy allo\Vs Alvin to transcend the
limitations that were so conspicuous in the beginning of the film.
vi n 's first erfon to rea ch his brorher reveal s rhe nature of attitude rus
towa rcl the im possible tas k he (aces. He is wilIjng to endu re wha tever
The expansive external world might serve to emphasize Alvin's
humil iarion he cncounters hccause his fOCU5 is on rhe impossibl e task,
small ness and the hopeless ness of his task, but Lynch visuali zes no dis
not On the Orbe r wa rcni ng him. He emboJics the fu ll commitmen t to
junction bctween Al vin and th e envi ronment during his trip. As Joe one's fantasy.
Kemhe r notes, "Represen tation in The Stmight Story persists in this ac
When the fi rst mower breaks dow n, Lynch shows A Ivi n ha ving just
qui esce nce a nd subordinarion to the environm en t. Aerial shots tra vcl
left his hometown of Laure ns. A Iarge truck passes and creales such <In
across ha rvest scenes, a nd subjecti ve shots reprod uce Straight's prog ress
ext reme gust of wi ad thal it blows the har off hi s heaJ. He Stops tb e
ac ross th e country." 9 The bndsca pe during the journey cl ea rly hold s a
mower to retrieve his hat, and whe n he returns, the mowe r will not
place for Alvin as a presence where the limited world ofhi s hometow n
sta rt. This seq ll ence Jraws anentio n lo Alv in's cas lration in a way sim i
ofLlurcns accommodatt:d him p rim arily as an abse nce.
lar to whar we saw in th e wo rl d of desirc. The im age ofthe powerfuI
T he mos t im portant changes occur within A lvin himsel f. Whilc in
truck COnt rasts with rhe we:Jkness of Alvi n, who can 't ever1 keep hi s ha t
the midst of accomplish ing m e impossible within this fantasy, Alvin
00 in the face oftllc truck 's might. Un likc in the world of des ire, ho w

undergoes a complete tra nsfo rmation. Though he rem ains disablcd

ever, the tan tasy offc: r~ A Ivin a way ofovcrcom ing this weakncss.

and now requires two ca nes just to walk, he ceases to be a pathetic fig
A fter Alvin returns ro La urcns, humi liated, with his mower on the
ure when he ente rs the world of fanta sy. H e becomes a hero struggling
back of a tru ck, he approach es Tom, the John Deere salespe rso n, about
to accomplish th e impossible and offers wise ad vice to a young run
purchasing anothe r mower. This transacti on affirm s A lvin 's position
away, befriends numerous people during th e trip, and is able, for the
wi thin the famasy beca use ir affords him l privi leged status. Tom trC<l ts
firs t time, to confess his guilt about a fri endly-fi re incident th at occ urred
Alvin di fferentl y than hi s other cuslome rs, offering AIvin his Own
during W orld War JI to a fello w ve tera no
personal ma wcr, wh ich, despite hei ng madI" in 1966, rema ins "a good
The new image of independence is pc:rperllatl:J by his systematic rc
ma chi ne.' NOl only does A lvi n rec<;i ve speciaJ trealmen t, bll t Torn and
fusals of ass istance: he W()l1 't sl ee p in rhe f{j ... d alll., ' III)usc: r acce r t a
'\1vin\ CO/1 vrs:lron ;lhOllt rhe mowcr also ~I rfi rrns the va Iu e of olJ ma
[i de fo r th e rest of the trip, fm L' xallll'l, I k lVI tt 1, IV(" money lI nder
hines. prO\ (k,tI ,h:11 rh eir O\>\' nt.:rs h:lve 111liI1l:1i/lld thcm . Th i, c!a im
the phone for a long di~l.II Kt 1':111 rh.1 111' IlI r d,~s 11111" Ht)r<"' n~' hl)usr.
t'u ncr illtl \ fll lldl'lltll l\; r1 lv ;1, ;111 a("(jl'lllurioll uf ,\ /, in\ potcncy: in th<;

1111 rll l IMP O~S I U lf r' AV l O 11' " , 11

n,. ~ i lll\liJli J ' . ay 1M
fantasy world, he rese mbl es the sturdy old mowe r, not the frail old man
from the first part of the film.
The fantasma tic trip does not simpl y allow Alvin to beCme indepen
dent and to overcome the weakness he displayed in the wo rld of Jesire. It
continues the image of him as a w eakened, lacking subject, but w ithin
the famasy he has the capaci ty ro 6.11 this lack . Lynch does not just divide
the film between the vvorld of desire and the world of fantas y; he al so di
vides the filmic fantasy itselfbetwee n Alvin's experiences oflack and his
expcriences of overcomil1g it. The former occurs primarily while A lvin
travels on the road-as, for instance, when his first m owe r breaks
dow n-and he finds respite at th e va rious points where he stops his jour
ney. Tbe fantasy thus establishes a narrati ve moveme nt from traumatic
experience on the road t the mitigation of this trauma at the stopping
After this scare, A lvin mects a community of people that we!comes
poiuts. The fantas): stages trauma only in order to sol ve it, whe rcas the
him a nd embraces h im as a hero in a way that \Ve did not see in Laurens .
world of desire provid es no such soluon.
Th is dynamicoccurs w hen hundred s of cyclists race past Alvin on the
road. vVh en the first cyclist pa sses him, we see a look of shock on Alvin's
fac e, as he je rks tbe mowe r ro the side in fear, and the rn any cyclists that
follow el raw attenti on t A lvin's slow pace as they speed past. The juxta
position between the speed ofthe cyclists and Alvin's lack ofspeed visibl)'
depresses him, and he once agai n experiences his castra tio n. But that
night Al vin stops at the campsite, where the cyclists engage h im in con
versation . A t the en d of th e conversation, one ofthe cyclists ask s. "What's
the w orst part about being old? " A l vin responds, "T he worst part about
being old is remember ing w hen you were young." T his sta tem ent has a
fantasmatic quali ty to it bec.ause it g ives Alvin the la st wo rd with tbe
yo ung c)'c1ists, :lnd this last w ord places the cyclists o n the same plane as
Alv in. L ynch introduces a cut im media tely after A lvi n says th is, m aking
it lite rally the l::tst wo rd in the sce ne. The cyclists are not able ro repl y, a nd
in fact , no repl)' seems thinkahle. T h e fa ntasy structure permi ts Alvin's
reve nge on the cyclists for their vitali ty. W e recognize-as me cyclists do
themsclves-that m ei r youth and agilit)' is Aeetin g a nd that they too w i11
soon become o ld and incapacitated.
A similar act occurs soon a fter tbe cncount cr with the c)'clists. A
',>voman speeds past Alv in in her car, but jusI Ll f"rcr sh e di sappcars fmm
the fram e, w e he,u a horn honking alld I i n'~, ~, !I'n hin g. A close-up u f
Alvin's facc re veals ~I horrihlJ luu k 1I~ lit \I'I' ~ lIi!" \V I '1 ' , ,111 hit ~1 det:r. fk
fo re she drives o{Twee ping- il) hl' l dJr" '~'' l .i ll 11It Wl l llhl ll l ,;\ l~ h irn . " 1
lH/, II H l M ll O ', Sl Bl F OAV III \ Vr H : 11
have hit thir teen deer in ~eVl" 11 \VL'l.'k~ clriv ing do wn this road ... and 1
lave deer." In the subsequc nt ~c:<.: n c. \Ve see Alvin cooking the deer for
dinner, and later he placcs lbe <lIul ers o n t p of his trailcr as a kind of
trophy.
The narrati ve trajecror y [film lrauma to triumph rcaches ies high
poim when Alvin's m owe r brea ks dow n toward the end ofhis journe)'.
Heading down a steep hJI, lile bel t o n Alvin's mower hreaks, \eaving
him with no way toslovv the m owe r <lS it speedsdown the incline. Though
the mowe r finall)' comes to a stop at the botto m of the hi11 , the incident
scares A h . in and displa)'s one m o re tim e his powe rlessness. L)'nch cap
tures Alvin's feeling of terror w irh close-ups of a panicked look on his
LlCe and close-ups ofhis han ds framicalI y trying to stop the mower.
W hcn Alvin loses control of his mower, five residents of th e tO wn of
C lermont-Dan ny R iorda n (J<lmes Cada), Da rla Rio rdao (Sall y W ing
e n), Johnny Johnson (Jim H a un), ancl Janet Johnson (Barbara K ingsley),
and Ve rl)'n Hell er (W ile)' H arker)-are sitting on lawn chairs watching
rhe local firefighters practice extinguishing a fi re on an old a ba ndom:d
house. This exe rcise-and the facr that ir has th e status of a spectator
event-reveals th e dull nature oflife in C lcrmont. A lvin's arrival in jects
vitalit)' into this communi ty, and eve ryone bere treats A lvin with a great
clca l of respecL W hc reas the peopk o fLau rens saw rhe jo urney 'lS a sign
of A lvin 's fo olishness , the residents of C le rrnont show reve rence for Al
vin a nd the magnitu d \;; o fhi s undc rtak iog, despite their m isgiv ings abour
it. The trau ma thal occurs w hen Alvin loses control ofhis mo wer leads t
the discove ry of lh is commuoity w her e he can find support and re
spect. This is how Alvin's turn to fantas)' providcs a narrati\'c for his ex
perie nce of trauma. It doesn't rem ove the trauma of his experience of
incapacity-in fac r, it augmen ts it-but itdoes revcal trauma as part of a
nar ra tive that has a successful conclusion.
Fontosy ond Humiliotion
Alvin's fan lasy d oes oot sim ply provide a w ay for him to narrare and
navig ate hi~ nfirm iey; it also dema nds tha l he ex puse him self t th e
Other al1Ll l ~pt( idlly ( e his cstrJnged hrolht: r Lyle, This is th e ethical
d i m l,; n ~i!n ," I III I ,I'.y: "dle ll Wl..; f'lnw, i/.~, \Vl' II p l ' ll 01 I r'id\'cl> to ::1I1 cxp'-
llil H Alti 1 "", ~Y IR'
rience ofhumiliation becau se we value our own p riva te enjoym ent over
our concern for the O th er's recognitio n. F antasy has thi s ethical dimen
sion bccause of the paradoxica l attitude that fantasiz ing subjects adopt
toward the Other. They retrea t from th e O the r into private worlds
when they fan tasize, but this disregard for the Other a)so creates an
unintended openness. Even as fan tasy disguises our subjection to th e
Other and creates an i!!usion of independence, it facilitates an encoun
ter with the traumatic real insofar as it manifests the inne rmost part of
our su bjec tivity externa!!y. In the mid st of fa ntasy, we risk exper iencing
our subjectivity w ithout its support in the O th er, without a!! the narra
tives of identity that p rovide liS with a sense of self. W e becom c nothi ng
but our m ode of obtain ing enj oy ment. The real kernel of the fantasy is
the momcnt at which we fu!!y identi fy w ith the impossible object and
completely cxternali ze our su bjectivity.
Whcn one is completely a bsorbed in fantasy, one experience s one's
suprcme vulnerabi lity to the look of the Other, and nothing is more
humiliating (han being seen in th e middle of fa ntasi z ing .IOTo respon d
to this look and accomm odate the O ther, the sub ject would necessa rily
have to abando n the pri vate fa ntasy for the sake of public recogni tioo .
The humiliation of the Oth er's look leaves rhe subject with a choice: re
main wi thin the fantas y and end ure the Other's look or retrea t from
the fan ta sy ancl seek the O ther's recogni tion. By traveling hundreds of
miles on a la wnm ower to see his brother Lyle, A lvin exposes him self to
frequenr ridicule. H is effo n seems both impossible anc1 ridiculous, and
even those most syrnpa t.hetic ro A lvi n find the idea of travel ing by lawn
rnower absurdo But wh ile Alv in is in the m idst of this fantasma tic jour
ney, he ITIllst sirnpl y endure lhe O ther's look and th e feelings of sh ame
that it enge nders.
W hen Alvin talks w ith Crysta l, the runa way tee n, o ne n ig ht on the
side of the road , we see directly che hurniliation that he rn ust endure.
She looks at his m owe r and trailer and says, "What a hunk of junk. "
Instea d of answering with an explanaron that might va lidate him self
in her eyes or by countering he r c1aim, Al vin si m pl y says, " Ea t yo ur
din ner, missy." An y olhe r response would be an attcm pt to prese rve o r
explain his actions in a man ner t hat accollllTlot!,llcs hi m to the Other.
E ven rejoi ni ng w ith an insu lt nr a sdf-d ep rcciI i' l ~ ~ l al ("lIlC Il L woulc1 be
in furtheranct: of in sin uati ng him sd f" iUlq Ila ( )!l" r'" " olwrt :1I irms. Al
vin's res ponse ev inces th t: n.: rllglli li"rl dl ,lIl l1 1111 c).! tl 1'.\11 01 f:u lI :ls y is
1"11 1111 IM I'O~S I(I II O ... ."ID l ft' C II
the humili ation th ar it brings. He must remain co mmitted to the logic
of the fantasy and not turn back to the Other in order to avoid this
humiliation.
The humiliation in th e face of the Other reaches its hig h point at the
end of the fantasy when Alvin arri ves at his brother 's house. Th e aim of .
the fantasy is reconciliation with hi s brother. As Alvin tells the priest
(John Lordan) whom he m eets just before arriving at L yle 's, "1 wa nt to
rnake peace, look u p at the s tars like we used to do so long ago." In ard er
t accomplish this, howeve r, Alvin must abandon bis prid e and a pproach
his brother despite th e argument that separated them yea rs ea rlier. When
he arrives at Lyle's house, A lvin places hi mself in a position of suprcme
vulnerabili ty. Despite all his effort during the journey, he has no id ea
whcther Lylc \-vil! accept or rejec t his gesture of reconciliation.
The vulnerability that A lvin must endure here expla ins what occurs
when he fin all y turns do wn the road where L yle lives. A fter tu rn ing onto
this roa d, Alvin 's mower stalls, and it seems as ifh e won't be a bl.e ro com
pl ete hi s journey despite coming w ithin a fe w hund red yards. A series of
dissolves depicting Alvi n wairingon his mower give the irnpression tha t
he w<.lits for several hours un lil a m ao dri ving a large tractor a rrives. A f
ter speaking with thi s man, Alvin tries to sta n h is m ower again , aod it
starts, allowing h im to d rive tbe rest of th e way. Ly nch in elu d es this scene
no t sim ply toad d suspense toa fi lrn ot he rw ise be rcftof it, bU[ tosbow AI
vi n's reluctance to experience the hum iJ iarion ofmeeting his brothe r. Al
vi n coulJ ha ve tried to star t hi s m owe r long before che tra ctor arr ived ,
bllt he didn't because he was wary of conti nui ng.
A lvin docs cont inue ro L yle's domoand instead of rejec ting him, Lyle
wee ps at lbe en o rmity of A lvin's act. This ending m a rks the successful
concl usion ro A lvin 's fantasy, and th e film 's conel ud ing shot-a tilt up
to the nig hl sky f u!! of stars-reveals that he has obta ined exactly what
he claimed to wan t (Iook ing up at the stars togethe r with hi s brother
o ne mo re time). But this conclusion does not rep rcsen t the real kernel
of the fantasma tic experience . T hat occurs at the mom en t when Alvin
sta nds olltsid e Lyle's h ouse an d ye!! s for his brother, cx posing him self
com pletely to possible h umiliation. To fantasize is always to ex pose
oneself to the Othe r through th e aet o f externali zing onc's innermost
su bjectivity. It is Alvin 's emb race of th is cxperience that transforms him
in to an ethical figu re, and his ethic al act does nor rern ai n isolated but
Ch:l ll g-CS hi ~ \\Inr ld. ' I
111 1 .rU /(;H r nORY 189
 vVhat rend ers th e ethical d im cn sion of fa nta sy visible in A lvin's ca se
is his willingncss to immerse himself fully in h i:, hU1tasy. AII subjects
fantasi ze , but most of us use fantasy as a pr ivate e ncl ave, a retreat th at
su ccors us in light of th e di sappointments we experie nce. W e mak e sure
that OUf fanta sies don't intrud e too fa r into OUf p u blic lives. This se rves
as self-protec tion, but at the same time, it wo rk s lo eliminate fanta sy's
ethical poss ibilities. But through the cha racter of A lvin , Lynch demon
strates that a different attitude to wa rd fantasy is poss ible. We might
d evote ourseI ves e ntirely to our fantas mati c proj cct and publicly insist
on o ur private fantasy.' 2 In doing so, we simultaneously sha tter the
limitations that formerly gove rned us a nd, at the sam e time, open our
selves to the O ther.
Private Fantasy as Public Ethic
The Stmight Story is a film replete with bea uty- the physi cal beauty of
Iowa fields and the moral beauty of the American small town. In both
cases, we sce this beauty not beca use it ac tuaHy exists but because, as
vi ewers of the film, \Ve are looking through th e lens f Alvin's fantasy.
Alvin's total commitm ent to this fa ntas)' distorts ur vision in such a WaY
th:l.t w e see a bea utiful world surrounding him. Lynch demonstrates the
way th at pri va te fantasy can ha ve 3 n eHect on th e public world.
O ur pri vate fantas ies tend ro cause us ro see an evil or corrupt public
world that is the result of someone el se-or som e force-perverting
the public world by real izing ther e a pri vate fantasy. H egel calls this at
titude the law of the heart. T he subj ec t embodying the law of lhe heart
ha s a pri vate vision about what is best fo r the public world anu sees only
a corruption of that vision in what actually exists. As H egel describes it,
such a subj ect "speak s of the uni versa l order as a pe rversion of th e law
of the heart and its happin ess, a pe rv ersion in ventee! hy fan a tical priests,
gluttonous des pots anc! their minions, who compensate them sel vcs for
their own dcg radation by d egrading and oppressing others, a perve r
sion whi ch has lec! to th e namel ess misc ry of delue!ed humanity. " " In
short, the law of the heart is a paranoid view f 'the pu blic world, and
thi s para noia stcm s fr om the subjec t's belief in it~ ()w n purity. C orrup
tion is ra m pant, but the subjcct bears!lo 1"I: \ pCl I\ ~ i h i! il y .
T he Straight Story , in contras t, St't's 11 11 ('\'U III IU I d ' l ,rr tl p ti(1O in the
puhlic wnrlcl. [t iS :1I1 unti - para noia 11111 1 1'111 l' lt';: I !I" (' ,\ Ivi ll i ~ fn,:c 01
" In "" ' J'.\POS~18Lr I1AV"-' LYN U I
wQrrics about the cxces5ive en joym c nr llf othe rs. Alv in is so committed
to his ow n fa ntas y, to bis w n way uf organ izing enjoy meot, rha t he
docs n't en vy [he e njoym c nt of othnl.. He :;eesa non vio lem a nd wel corn
ing worl d where m ost coIltem po ra ry subjects see threa ts a nd mc nace.
Our view of the oth c r as e m bodyiog excessive e n joym t'nt is always
our view: it tells us m uch rn ore about our own subj ecrivity th an it does
a bollt ho w m uch othc r~ are really enjoy ing . '4 T hc cn joyment of oth ers
bothe rs us-we pc rceive it as excessive-when we ha ve g ive n up on
our own en joy m cnt. T be image of exccssively enj oying oth ers is an at
tempt to ki ck-start o u r own e n joyment, to regain the ex pCJ-ience th at
we feel ou rsel ves tO have lost. We en joy th rough others as we allow the
enj oym ent of others to bomer uso T he en vy tha t we cxpe rience is itself
a m ode o f enjoying, wh ich we can see in the [aseist's exaggerated re
spon se to lh e im age o f che c njoying m inoriry.
The p ro blem with this m ode of en joyin g is th a r it fail s lO recog n ize
itself as such. T he cn vinus subject feels itselt deprived oEen joyment
ra the r th a n e nscon cee! in it- a l ways on rh t: outside of e n joym ent ra th c r
th an wi t bin it. To this subject, rhe e nj oyrlll:n l of oth ers does not app ear
sim ply as somethi ng t ha t others have and Lhe subject itscl f des nor, but
as sOll1cthing others have ar tbe suh jec l's ex pense. T he image of rhe e n
joy ing othe r borhers someone precisely beca use shc/he ex periences ch is
en joyme nl as an ind icaon of her/his own fa ilure to enjoyoI f One is en
joying, (me passes over lhe en joyment of others w ithou t finding it d is
t urbing. T his is w ha t the envious subjcct, the su bject \Vilo obscsses
a bollt enj oy mcnt of othe rs, is u nable ro d o.
T he Straight Story shows A lvin avoiding any tendency tOw ard en vy
thro ug h his com m itment to his own fa ntasmatic en joyment. No film in
Lynch's ca reer has eng aged in social commenta ry wi thout appea ring lo
as lTI ueh as m is one. He sed uces us in to viewing Thc Stngh t Story as th e
toue hing ua rrative of an indivi d ua l tr ium phing ove r ad ve rsity (as in
thousa nd s (l f Holl ywood f lm s), but w ha t he rea lly a uth ors is a critique
of co ntempora ry Ame rican pa ranoia. T he ta rget is l10t lhe corruption
a nd viol e nce tha r plag ues the society; in stead , ir is the position that sees
and con d em ns tb is viole nce trom the perspective of irs own insul a tcd
su periority.
In ord er to bes{ understand the rel:llionsh ip between p riva re fa ntasy
and thl' 1 1II hli~ wnrld in The Stf(ljg/t Stmy, \Ve mu.)t conrra st it w itb
Lyn cl l\ n"u , I fiad rilll1, Wild ilf -('url. ()n Ih e C>!le h,1I1U, {hey secm like
I lit' .l 1 ~A/~ 1f , . TI"l RY l Q,
radic.:dly different films, perhaps more differcnt than an y two L ynch
films. WLd at Heart contains more graphic vi olence , sex, profanity, and
criminali ty than any ofhis other film s, and Th e Straight Story is his onl)'
G-rated film. Their onl)' common trait seems to be rhe genre (the road
film) to which they belong. On tbe other hand , th ere are fund amental
t hematc similarities. Both films concern, in a w ay that no other Lynch
films do, the relatio nship between the subject's commitment to fan tasy
anJ lhe external world that the subject encoun ters. L ike Lost Highway
and MuLholla17d Drive, these films are companion pieces, each showing
subjects taking up an opposite attituJe towarJ fantasy.
Gi ven the excessiv eness ofWild at Heart, it w ould see m that this film
depicts a fuller investment in fantasy than The Stmight Story. But as we
have seen in our in vestigation of Wild at Heart, this is not the case. T he
ext reme depiction of the external world in Wild at Heart is the result of
a failure to be fantasmatic enough, a failure ro sustain an iovesrm ent in
fantas)'. The relativc\y tam e and habitable public wo rld depicted in T he
Straight Story res ults from Alv in's complete com mitment to his fa ntas)'.
By committing himself ro his fantas)', Alvin alters the way that he per
ceives an J in teracts w ith th e exte rnal world, and this has th e effect of
changing it.
Neithe r film attempts to represe nt contemporar)' society as ir reall y
is. 8 0th view this society from the pe rspectiv e of th e fan tas)' str ucture of
the ma in characters. S:1ilor and Lu la's failure to invest full y in the ir
fan tas)' produces a thre<ltening exte rnal world of chaos and violencc.
Alvin Straight's complete invcstm ent in his fantasy creates a world in
which peoplc trea t each oth er with kindness, respect, and fai rness . The
external public world beco m es ideal because we see ir th rough the leos
of A lvin's bntasy. The strength ofh is commitme nt to his fantasy lea ves
him indifferent to this worl J and to its perception ofhi m , and this alone
transfo rms its very natu re.
At no time during his journey does Alvin experience a threar among
those he encounters, nor docs he worr)' about what most of IJ S would
thiok about when rn ak ing such a journey. W hcn Alvin stops at the
Riordans' house, Darla Riordan asks Alvin about the- J angers of the
road. Alvin tells her that he finds noth ing at <111 rrigh teni ng abou t t raY
eling on the open road, especially in li ghl uf r;lCl n~ lhe Gcrma m in
vVorld W ar 11. Wc would expcct l h i~ IY11l" , tf l' ~ 1 " 1l1 ~1 I ni 11 I Alv in , givc n
his actions clu ring the iou rm:y i"d L 11, lit \ U h.. I [ Il~ lr.tl li r. uses :.I ny
I'n IIH I M I' OSS llI t l"IAV l U 1 VH <: II
securit)' devices, or tries [O proleC:1 hi msc lf or his belongings in any
manner at al\. Because he expe ric"ecs me O rher from the pcrspecti vc of
his fantas)', he simpl y canllOr cn v i ~ i o n a lh rea t [here.'5
It \-vould be too simple lO :;~I y thal A lvin sees a welcoming world
beca use he expects ro see such a wo rld . E xpectations alone would
not be enough . A lv in expe riences the world as fundamentally
nonthreatening- he escapes the paranoia th at is rampant in contempo
rary Ameri can society- becau se he find s enjoyment withi n his fantas)'
and insists on follo w ing th is fantasy despite the difficulties it brings.
Through the figure of Alv in , Lynch suggests that our paranoia about
violent others ou t to steal Ollr enjoyment is me result of a collective fail
ure to cornmit ourselves full y to our own fa ntasmatic enjoyment. If we
did so, we would no longer fee! the necd to protect ourscl ves from the
clangerous other.
In The Straight Story , Lynch d epicts an America that is indeeJ, to re
mrn to Jeff Johnson's attack, more mytbical than t he Re publican N a
tional C ommittee 's ve rsi on. But Lynch also reveals thi s m ythical Am er
ica as m ythical-as the producr of a turn to fan wsy. In addirion, he
shows the price thar one must pay fo r an A me ri ca w here others cease to
be threate ning. O ne m ust, li ke A lvin St raight, fully invest onesel fin the
logic of fa m asy and fo llow this logic ro the encounter w ith rhe trau
m atic real. Jn doi ng so, one must place onesel f entirely at ri sk. T hi s is
the political dimension of Ly nch 's film : no Repu blican National Com
m ittee m ember would accepl the risk tll;) t Lynch ~ hows the mythica l
A me rica req ui res. In the act of creating it, one finds the inn ermost core
of one's subj ecti vi ty ex ternali zed for othe rs to see and to mock. 1t is onl)'
lhe ability to experience this ty pe o f humiliation that allows the subject
to enjoy io [he real and thus to overcome the idea that a hidden enemy
threatens or has stolcn the subject's enjoyment. Only the authentically
enjoying subj ect can avoid the paranoia rampant today and become <ln
exemplar of contcmporary ethics.
IlI' ,., t~A ' lO i l1 HORY 1'/1

NINE Navigati ng M ulholland Drive, David Lynch's
Panegyric to H ollywood
Beginning with Se nse
W hen officials at ABe fo rced Lynch a nd cocreato r Ma rk F rost to sol ve
the m ystery of Laura Palme r's murde r in the midd le oftbe seconcl sea
son of Twin Peaks, in Lynch's mind they effecti vely kiLled rhe show.
This, along with othe r mistreatment, d ro ve Ly nch to swear off wo rk
ing in tel evision. But he broke this vow afte r m ak ing The Straight Sto /'y
(1999) and created the pilot fo r Mullwlland Drive, a new series for ABC.
The show mel a fate \-vorse tha n that ofTw in Peaks: netw ork executi ves
hated the first cut they 5aw of the pilot and neve r aired it, (ven as a cut
clow n televi sio n movie. But F re nch co m pany C anal + stepped in ro buy
the pilor and aLlowed Ly nch to reshoot and ed it the footage into a fea
ture film. 1 D es pite thi s strange production hi sto ry, the structure of the
fi lm seem s almost to suggest rhat Lyn ch imagined it fr om the beg in
ning as a counte rpoint to Lost H ighway (1997)
Almost eve ryone w ho sees Mulho Lland Drive (200 1) notes that the
first part of the film makes a good d eal of sens(: for a David Ly nch film.
In contrast to the beg inning of Twin Peal( i: Fin' lVu lk ({Jith Me (199 2 ) o r
Lost H ighway , thi s film o pe ns wi th;t rcla li vdy ' Ir:l igln fll rwnrd, ifidio
syncra tic, oarrative. A woman e mcrw'" 11' "'' .1 ,'; 11 1 1 .1~1t without nny
memo ry, ane! w h ile h iJ ing IJI\! i" .ltI .1(1:111,, 1' l I1 . Ir,~ It.h "IIIII.k li tO, shc
1'14
m ects another wo man who hcl p\ hn in the quest to di scover her id en
tity. W hi lc th ey are togethn. lllt' tWll fall in love. This, in brief, repre
sents the narrati ve trJj ec tu ry of II IC ft rst part of the fi lm , and though
there are bi zarrc accomp:lnil rll: l1 rli LO this tra jectory, the basi c n arrat iv e
itself mak es sense. Ir sec ms lo hcl ic entirely Stanle y Ka uffmann 's c1aim ,
in his discussio n of the fi lm 's opcni ng. that ''sense is not th e point: the
respo nses are th e point. " Wltile one m ight be tempted t agree with
Ka uffmann co ncerni ng the fi lm \ concl llsi on , its open ing d efinitely has
a hi gh deg ree of coh ere nce. Yt:l it Jl so has a fanta sm atic aura about it
th at serves to undermin e t h j; cohcrence and to give sorne crede nce to
Kauffmann's contentio ll rha t Lynch m ea n s the fir st pan of the film to
be more evocati ve than se nsib le . By com bini ng sense with the texture of
fan tasy, LyllCh uses the fir:>t part ofMuLholland Drive to expl ore th e role
that botas)' has in rendering our experience coherent a nd mea ningfu l.
The narrati ve coherence of the opening sectio n becomes especially
pron ollnced wh en we contrast it w ith what foll ows. Th e second pa rt of
the film is structured around the incessant dissati sfactio n of desire: it
denies D iane (Naomi Watts) and the spec ta tor any exper ience of
C amilla (La ura H arring), her love object-llld it em pbas izes this fail
ure visually. Th e first part of the fil m, in con trast, produces a scenJ_rio
in wh ich D iane, appearing as Betty, ca n en joy the object. As we've seen
in othcr Lynch fil m s, th is se pa ratio n between th e ex pe rience of desi re
and thar of fao tasy :lccoun ts for-and is accom plished by-dramatic
ch anges in mise-en -sce ne, ed iting, and th e ove rall character of me shots
between the first and second pa rts of (he film.
W b il e the fi rst p:l rt o f t he fil m is nor w ithout strange characte rs a nd
events (sucb as the hred k iller's hum o rously botch ed murder), the mi se
en-sd:ne confo rrns on th t: whole ro the co nventions ofthe ty pical Holly
wood fil m: sccn es a re well-lit, conve rsatio ns betwee n characte rs Aow
withoutawkwa rd ness , and even the pl ainest d cor seems to sparkle. Th e
ed iting here also tends to follow the elassical Holl ywood styl e, sustaining
the spectator's sense of spatial and temporal orienta ton. H ow eve r, in the
second part of the film , the lighting becomes much dark er, almost ev ery
conversa ti a n inelud es long and uncomfortabJe pauses, and the sets be
co me dr:lb, lack ing th e ubiquitous brigh tness of those in th e firs t pa rt of
th e film . The editing also uodc rgoes a r~l d i c;d !>hi ft. F or exam ple, just af
ter D ia n!,: t" ll1 ergcs from he r faora sy (a nd enters rh e WQrld oE desire) , sh e
::Iprl'a r~ 111 ~I'(k III Cam ill a R h od c~ ( I..a\l r~1 1 b rring) . Lynch shoots D i
"HI .I II' .. NO ORIVE 19 C
ane speaking, followed by a reverse shot of Camilla . But after another
bri ef shot of Diane, the subscquent n:verse shm d epicts D iane again, oc
cupying the position where we hao just seen Camilla. This kind of dis
ruption of the shotlrev e rse-shot sequence (which does not occur in the
first part of the film) indicates on the leve! of the editing that these
worlo s-t he wo rlds offantasy and desire-are ontol ogically dist,i nct.
As we contrast the first part of the film with the seconJ, it quickly be
comes ev ident that th e first secms more real, more in k eeping with our
cxpectations concerning reality. But this sense of realit)' results from the
film's fantasmatic oimension rather than its realism. Where we usually
contrast fantas)' with reality, Mulholland Drive underlines the link be
tween [he tw o, Jepicting fantasy's role in pro viding reality with the
structure that it has . The film supports Lacan's claim that "eve rything
we are alloweJ to approach by wa)' of reality remains rooted in fantasy. ".1
As a categor)', fantasy should no t be opposed to realit)! because it is fan
tas)' that sustains what we ex perience as reality. But even chis idea-t ha t
fantas)' supports our sense of reality-is ev ident in Lost H ighway and
earlier Lynch films .
Mulholland Drivc represents an advance on Lost Hig/way because it
emphasizes not on ly tha t fanta s)' offers a solution to the deadlock of
desire but also that Fantasy providcs a wa)' of staging an encounter
with trauma ano an authcntic expe ricnce of loss th at would be impos
sible without it. The film celebra tes the fan tasma tic dime nsion of
H oll ywood-its commitment tu m e exploration of fantasy. Because of
their formal similarities, one cannot come to terms w ith Mulholland
rive w ithout looking at ir in light (lf Lost Highway . The two are com
panion films: Lost Highway ex plo res the structure of fantasy an d desire
for male subj ec tivit)', and Mulholland Dl'lve does so for female su bjec
ti vity. O ne mig ht cve n claim tha t M ulhollal1d Drive is a fcminist versi on
of Los! H ighway.4
The M ysfery of Desire?
If l'vIulhofland D rive in ract consists of separate worlds of desirc and fan
tasy, it would see m that the oper ng part ()f the fil m rc presents the for
mer since it focuses o n the m yste ry of R ila's (I. :lIlI';! I lnrr ing) iden tity.
Desire nvol ves the conFronratinll wit h a 1111 1< I. lI l lC I l l. d IltlCe rLlin ty CCf[)
196 1111 I MI'OS~ I IJ I I OAV II. lVN (' 11
cerning the O ther's d es ire-and ch us is consonan t w iLh a scnse o f mys
tery. The film beg il15 w ith rhe cred il seq uence mat superimposes the
image of Betty (Na o rni Wa t.ts) o ve r a n ong oing jitte rbug contest, but
foll owing this in irial ~cene, L)' nch es tabli shes 3J1 a ura of rn ystery that
seems to be in keeping w ith rhe a ttitudc of desire. A ftc r a brief shot of
a blanket covering someonc Iying on a bed and a red pillow, we see a
close-up of the "M ulhlland Dr." Stree t sign (which a lso stand s in as the
film 's title card) an d a black li m ous ine dr iving Rita up M ulh ol\and
Drive. The limousine suddenly SLOpS, prompti ng Rita to proclairn,
" Vlhat a re yo u d oingr We dOD't stop he re." The driver docsn't answe r
her question but points a g un al he r and soys, "Get out of he ca r. " Just
after he says this, howeve r. a car J rag-racing ill ch e oeher d irection on
the ro~d crashes into che lim ousLne. The crash kili.., lhe drive r and in
jures Rita's head , p rod ucing the amnes ia thar w ill affecl her thro ug hout
the first pa rt of the film .
This sce.ne cerrainly appea rs ro create a se nse of mystery and the fu n
damental uncerta in ry thal we associate w ith dcsi re. lL produces desire
in a m anne r very rypi cal of Holl ywood n arra tive w ith its use of dark
ness and thrcate n ing Ch<l.f acte rs in the m ise-en -scene, om inous music,
and an editiog seq llence rhat me re! y hi n rs at w har is rcaHy tr anspir ing.
The film docs n oth ing cx trao rcl inary b Ul employs w ithout iro ny che
narra tives cocles (lf Hall ywood (:md cs peciall y oF/i 1m no if ) co ocerni ng
the prod uclion of J cs ire. As Ho ll ywood undcrstands weIl , dcsire al
ways involves nor k nowing, bcing confrontcd wit.h a q uesl ion tlIat
docsn't have ~Ln answer. The dcsi ring ~u bj ect confronts a m ysterious,
enig m a tic object, an object th:n is nev e r isoltltable as ,he o bj ect.5 As
La can points out a bout desire in Seminal' X, "as lo ng as J dcsire, 1 k.now
nothing of what J desi re. "6 To pOrL ray des ire, a film must crea te a scene
that situa tes specta tors in a position o F no n- k now ledgc , and this is cx
actl y w hat the ope oing oC!\llutho/fand Drive Jocs, lt d oes tls first of all
thro ug h the m ise-en -scen c-Lhe nea r-to lal da r k ness of the setting, the
isolarion of [he mounta in roacl, a nd so on . lo acl d itio n, the film employs
Angelo BaJala m enti's low, baunting m usic ro conlribu te to the perva
si ve sense of a rn yste ry. T h e action oC me scene a lso worb to keep us in
the attitude of quesLon ing: we see th e limousine driving up a dark
mountain roa d ancl ha ve no id ea where it's going. W hcn the dri ve r
stops rhe limousine, the spcc tator is in the same positi on as Rit~l : we
IlJ tI ICJ l l" NO OR IVF 197
don't know why he has stopped, or why he pull s a gun. This m oment
forcgruunds the essenti al lJu esti on of d esire -"W hat do you want ?"
Likc Rita, the spec tatur has n o idea what the dri ver wa nts, and it is th e
non-knowleoge of this d esire that trigge rs th e subject's d es ire. By plac
in g th e spectator in the same posi tion as the des iring subj ect on the
screen-a no hy immersing huth in total unce rtainty-Lynch seems to
set up the first part of MulholLand Drive as a world of desire,
This becomes eve n more appare nt afte r the car crash that turns R ita
into an amnesiac. Folluwi ng this eve nt, she wanders the strects of L os
:\ngeles, uncertain about where she might go or eve n \vho she is, Aga in
th e film pl aces the specta tor in the sa m e position as Rita- without a
founoation on wh ich one might ma ke sensc of Rita 's situ ation or he r
io entity, Rita's unce rtain ty abou t her ow n ide ntity is at th e sam e tim e
uncertainty about th e d esire ofthe Other: not knowing who one is re
sults from not kn ow ing w ho one is fo r the Oth e r. At this point in the
film, Rita has lost an y sense of wh ere shc exists relative to the Other.
This com plete uncertainty about what the Othe r wants from her places
Rita even more d irectl y in the positi on of oes iring subj ecti vity. As Bruce
Fink points out, th e eni gm a of the Othe r's d esire is ul1bearabl e for th e
subj ect, w hich is w hy the subject necessarily h as rccourse to fantasi es
about w hat the Oth er wa nts. He says,
Ral he r than anxiousl y wa iting to find out what yo u a re, yOll m ay
well prefe r to jum p to concl usions (precipi tate answcrs) abour what
the Other wants of you, w ith you, fr om you, and so on. Thc un
kno wn nature of the O the r's desire is unbea rable here; yo u prefer
ro assign it an attribu te, any attrihute, ramer th an Ict it remain a n
enigma . You prefer to tie it down, give it a name, and pu t a n end to
its angst-induci ng u nce rtainty. O nce it is nameo, once you concl ud c
that this is w har th e O the r wa nts of you- to stay out of the w ay, for
instanCe- lhe angst abates .7
O ne eliminates the an xiety th at the enigma of the O ther's desire pro
duces by fanta sizing a resolution to that e nigm a, a nd this is exactl y
wh at JVfulh olland Dritlc indicares that Rila uncs. Aftc r sbe w::lOoers the
streets, Lynch shows Rita fall in g aslecp <lit II lc ),,rlll lll ll otll si de a n apa rl
m ent co mple x, ano th e next m orn illg ~h l' \V, I I.(, 11 1' IU ,\ worl d thal has
beco me fa r le~~ my ~ te ri() us.
1'/H 1111 . 1M l' o S ~ 11I 1 1 U AV 1\ 1 1 V N l 11
IfRita fall s asleep tormented by th e m ystery ofth e Othcr's desire, she
awa ke ns in to a world that is much friendli er. In th c apartment complex,
a wom an is con ven ie ntl y leaving her apa rtment for an extend eo trip, a nd
Rita procures a p lace to stay by snea k ing into the apartment. Ben y, the
ni ece ofthi s woman , arri ves in Los A ngeles as a Aedg ling actress. Though
Beny di scovers Rita in rh e apartm en t and realizes tha t Rita does n'r even
know he r aunr, she befriend s Rita a nd assi sts he r in th e lJues t to di scove r
her ide ntity. These events c1earl y seem to indicate that the fi lm has en
tered the te rrain ofRita's fantasy: the open a partment and Betty 's a rrival
functi on as wish ful fi ll me nts for Ri ta as a dcsiring subj ect. Lynch even
unde rli nes the fa ntasma ti c status of Beny in the way that he shots her
arri va l in Los A ngel es. As Betty walks through th e L os Angeles airport
terminal, the ~ ce l1 e is brightl y lit, and soft, eomfo rtin g music plays in the
backg round, W e see a shot of Betty 's smil ing fa ce, and then a reverse shot
of a "W elcome to Los Angeles" signo A n old couplc that Betty has pre
sumably m et on th e Aight accompa nies he r throug h th e terminal and
wishes he r well as she enters a taxi. As shc says good -bye to t he couple, we
scc he r loo king cl own at her sudd en ly m iss ing bags, fearing th a t som e
one has stolen thcm . The shot of Betty look ing dow n- an d excl aiming
"My bagsl "- also builds in the specta tor a sense tha t som e.one has taken
adva n tage of Betty's na'ivett: about the big ciry.ln the next instant, a re
ve rse shot shows a cahbie placing he r bags in the tru nk ofhi s cab a nd ask
ing her, "W here to?" T h is is not a Los A n gele~ w here th ievcs stea l th e
bags of un suspectin g visitors [ rom th e co u ntry but one in w hich eve ry
one is eager to help. 1t i5, as Ben y says ro Ri ta latcr, a "dream place." But
it is Be tty he rself who occu pies the central pos iti n in th e fantasy, as
she seem ingly enters the film in orJer to help Rita sol ve the eni gma of
desire.
T h ro ughout the fi rst pa rt of the fi lm, Betty :lSSists Rita in trac king
dow n the d etails of the acc id ent th at trigge red he r amnes ia and in fol
lowi ng up on the m emory frag m ents that come to h er. All ofBetty's ef
fo rts to belp Rita-a nd her eventual d ecla rati on of love-suggest that
she is no thing but a fantasy ohject for Rita, a wa y for Rita ro put a stop
to the a nxicty of her Own desire. But as rhe second part of th e film un
fo ld s, it becomes a pparen l that the en tire first pan of the film has not
been st ructu rcd aroun d Rita's d es irc but ra the r a round a fa ntasmat ic
rC$oluti<1tl ,,/, ti ... c1csirc of D ianc Sclwy n (w lto is alsn played by N aomi
\V:L!s). W lt l l< , I ~ 1I ill iti.d ly scc m~ tltal B l' II Y : lrr iVl'~ ns a l'a nl.i.lsy figu re
A.ll 1I 1( 1)1< M I l'! (lR I V I I YY
for Rita, hel ping her to salve th e enigm a of he r d esi re, the second part
of the film reveals that, in fact, Rita has all along played the central role
in the elahoration of Diane's fantasy and Betty is actuall y O iane's own
ideal ego in this fantas)". As a mysterious, unkn ow n object, Rita pro
vides a way for Diane/Betty to esca pe her unbearabl.e desire.
The t~1I1tasy rdation between Betty and Rita is a reimagining of
Diane's failed rdatio n-which we see only in the second part of the
film - with the m ov ie star Camilla Rhodes (w ho is also played by L lUra
Harring). Though we usually associate m ysteriousness and uncenainty
with the diffi culty of desire, the enigma of Rita is far more bearable fur
D iane than the impossibil ity that hau n ts her relatiunship with Camilla.
Diane's fantas y rran sforms Camilla Rhodes, the impossible object, into
Rita , the mysteriolls objcct. Thi s transformarion offe rs D iane an escape
from the impossibility of the object-cause of desire.
This impossible obj ecr is what sticks out and cannot be smoothly in
tcgrated into the subject's wo rld . Ir is, as Lacan points out, "the object
that cannot be swallowed, as it we re, which remains stuck in the gullet
of the signifier. " 8 The desiring subject must recog ni ze the impossi bility
of integra ting this im possible ob ject, but a sen se of mystery obscures
and provides respite from desire's constituti ve impossibi lity. T h is is
why D iane turns fmm Camilla Rhodes to Rita . As Lynch sh ows, fan
tasy doesn't just resol ve the m ystery of desire, it c rea tes a sense of m ys
tery as well in ord er ro obscu re the necessa ry deadlock thal a nim a tes all
desire . With Camilla, D iane desires, a nd yet she knows that this des ire
must remain dissatisfied. Unlike C ami lla, Rim offers O iane (as Berty) .
mystery that ,he can solve; she is not an objecl that re m ains always out
of reach, des pite her enigmatic status.
By initially setting up Ri ta and the fi rst part of Mu lholland Drive as
exemplary of desiring subjecrivity and la ter revea li ng this as itsdf part
of a fantasm atic scenario, L ynch creates a more complex and cxpa nsive
idea of fantasy than in his earlicr films. Desire confronts an im possibil
ity, and by transforrning impossibility into m ystery or uncertainry, fan
tasy rende rs the impossible possible. Bruce Fink is right to c1a im that
"the encounter with the Othe r's desire is anxiety producing,"9 but w hat
produces an xiety is nOt the enigm a of the O ther's desire; instead,
the subject feels anxiety because she grasp~ Iht' illl l)( lssib ili ty of rhis
desire -tha t the re can be no answe r lo tll l q llt",II " 1I r!t :11 I :lsks. nor tha t
the subject simpl y doesn 't k n()w dli , 1 m,,"! 1
100 f) IMrOSS lllI l 11,.,11 10 IYII' fI
Mulholtand Drive leaus us (thmugh the use of rn ise-en-scene a nd ed
iting) tOward the error of see ing Rila as a figure of desire not simply to
toy with our expectations but ro reveal the extent to which fantas)'
determines our experience. 1t not on ly provi des answe rs to our ques
tiom about Our identity, but it even produces the questions themselves.
The film reveals rhat the prov ince of fantas y ex tends much funher
and irs power is much greare r-th an eve n Lyn ch 's previous films had
envisioned.
Fantasized Temporality
If all Lynch's films split into worlds o[ desi re and fan tasy, Mulhollalld
Drive represen ts a major step for ward in how we might co nceive of rhe
dynamics of this split. Mulho!lal1d Drive rad icali zes the split beyond a
film like LO:;t Highway beca use ir crea tes a world of desire thar is fa r less
coherent and thus displays more emphatically the rol e th at fant,lsy p lays
in rendering OlH experience meaningfu l. T he world of desi re in Mul
holfand D,ive (th e second pa n of lhe film) b cks evcn a sen sc- of tem po
rality. E vents occur in this world in a random order, wi thout a clear
na rrati ve logic. A t the beginn ing of this pan of the fil m, Dianc's former
ruom mate (and, it seems, lover) retrieves her belong ings, incl udi ng an
ashtray shaped like a m iniature pi ano, from Dia nc'~ a partment. Bur in
a subsequent scene, the piano ashtray reappears on thc coffee ta ble, as if
the room mate had not yet removed it even thoug h we know that she
had oThe same thing ha ppens with a blue key. It is lying on the coffee
table as th e second pa n of rhe fil m begins and rhen di sa ppea rs until the
end of the film, w hcn D ia ne again sees it 011 the coffee tableo The disap
pea rance a nd reappearance of these objects does nOl indicate anything
mag ical a t work, but simply that this pan of the film opera tes according
to the atemporallogic of desire. There is no ch ro nology in the 'world of
pure desi re because desire does not move forward; tnstead, it circulates
around rhe impossible object-in this case, the impossible enjoyment in
Camilla Rhodes that Oiane Selwyn longs for and yet can not access.IO
As a world of desi re, the second pa n of the film moves accord ing to the
com pulsion to repeat rather than accord ing to th e dictates of time.
In co ntra st, the first pan of rhe fill11 - th e ela boration of D ian e's
fa n tnsY- Opt mIes acco rc1 i ng ro a sta nd:1n i tC I1l po rallogic. E vents occur
in;1 rh 11111. J n.tll .tI () rder and follllw t h t b w~ n l"l.1I 1\,rl ir y. Thi s is r n::ci sel y
~"J(II.lIiIlNCI OR /\' I 7111
 This senten ce pres llm abl )' r roviJc.~ all the inform atio n tha t D iane has
the opposite of what we might expect: we are acc ustomed to thinking
of fantasy as an imaginative Hig ht that allow~ us to violate the various
about the breaku p. It e x b t~ f;Jr her-and for us :] 5 spectato rs-as just a
exigencies-induding, perhaps especially, that of temporality-that
fragm en t ()f sellse, a fragm ent uncoonec ted to aoy cohe rent narrative of
constrain our experience of reality. But th e film reveals here the role that
the rel ationsf p between Adam and his w ife. BUl in che fi rst pa rt of the
fantasy pla)'s in constructing our sense of temporality. Though dassical
film, we have alread y seen the events that Ada m 's sta tem ent aUudes to.
Hollywooo films also rely on the power of fantasy to construct a sen se of
Diane crea tes a f.1nL3Sm atic scenario su rrollnding rhi s fragme nt of
temporality, they take pains not to reveal this in the way thatMulholland knowledge tha t [enders it completely sensible.
Drive does. The classical Hollywood film hides fantasy's role in produc
In che fir st part of the fi lm, Dia ne's famasy prod uces the bac kg round
ing tempo rality by not depicting any moments bereft of fantasy-no
for Adam's stateOle nt aholl e the "poo l man." A fre r losi ng hi s fi lm for
mom ents of desire as such, in which neither fantasy nor temporality 01'
refusing to bow ro m ob pressure and hire Ca m illa Rh odes for the fe
erates. In Mulholland Dl'ive, on the other hand, we see Diane 's experience
mal e lead, Ad a m retu rm lo bis horne an d finds his wi fe L orraine in bed
of pure desire in the sccond part of the film. As a subject ofdesire without
with the pool mano Rarher tha n ev inc ing g ll ilt for her in fid clity, from
any fa nta smatic supplement, Diane experiences only th e repetiton of
the moment Adctm sees h er L o rrai ne begins be r:tting Aoam for comng
hom e a r th e w rong time. Shc says, "Now yo u've do ne ir," a nd ~he asks
the drive. As Betty, the fantasy figure who allows Diane to escape this
repetition, she experiences temporality. Th e point here is that we do not
ofhim, "W hat the hell a re yo u even doing here? " Adam says norhing,
employ fantasy to escape from the horrors of time, but that \Ve employ
bllt proceed s ro Jousc her jcwdry box (an d rh e jewel r y in ir) with pink
fantasy t construct time as a respite from the horror s of repetition. " As
painr, 'vvhich occasions a fig hr between Ada m . Lo r ra ine, a nd rhe pool
Slavoj Zizek notes , "fantas)' is the primordial form ofrwrrative, [... andl
mano F inal/ y, Ad arn kaves, covereJ in pink paint ;) nd w ith a bloody
nal'rative as such emerges in oroer to resolve sorne fundamental antago
n ose. In lig hr o f thi s sccnc. we ha ve a context rhrough whi ch ro un der
nism by rearranging its terms into a temporal succession . It is thus the
stand Ad:m's sratement abou t his wife and the pool m <ll1 in the second

very form of narrative which bears witness to some repressed antago

part of the film. Bur ir is, Tcontcncl, on l y rhe d lbo rati on of Oiane's fan

nism."l l By providinga narrativeand temporal structure through which

rasy thal has prod uced thi s narrarive con tcx t. T he fa m asy takcs up a

we can have experi ences, fanta sy del iv ers us from the timeless repe tion
frag mentary p iece of expe ri ence a nd prov ides ir w ith a coherent pas t

ofthedrive.
rhat ex plains its eme rgence in lhe presento In this way, famasy offers

a ntas)' providcs not just temporaLity, but it also constantly works to

subjects respi te from the in cohe rence thar plagues their ex pe rience.

fill in rhe ga ps that popl1late the fragmentary expe rience of desire.

Withou t fantasy, our experience would lack a sense of coherence, just
Diane 's Wish Fulfillment
like the latter section of Lynch's film . This role of fantas)' becomes ap
parent in the way that the first part of the film tak es fragments of cxpe
Not on ly does fa ntasy till in th e gap::; of Our exp erience, but it also-
rience from the second pan and elabora tes on them. Such a process is
even m ore im port:tntl y-del ive rs us frolll rhe disstisfaction constitu
crucial to the subject's abiLty to make sense of a situation: we under
tive of our status as desir ng subjects. In the sccond pa n of Mu/holltmd
stand ano discover meaning beca use fantasy provides th e background
Drive , whic h dc pic ts a wor/eI of desi re w ithour fantasy to suppleme nt it,
for our fragmenta ry experience. By filling in gaps, fantasy helps LIS to
D iane feels desire's perpetu a! Iack: she longs for Ca mil la Rhodes bllt
produce a seamless experience of the world. At film director Adam
cannot have her; she wa llts a caree r as an actress bur struggles w ith bit
Kesher's (J ustin Theroux) party in the second pa rr of the film , Dianc
parts; and shc Sees rhe opulen t Iifestyle of Hollywood's el ites but lives in
relati ve ~qll:t l o r. As we watch rh e st:con d J<l rt of tile fi lm , we see the
hears Adal11 's brief aCCClunt of his n :n'nl hl l' a k IIp w il h his w ife. Shc
overhea rs him sa yin g, "So J gol lh e pllol, 11 11 ,1 ~III' .:ill lhe pool man ." origin;1ry, d issn rislyil1g form uf rht.: cv<.:nrs (,1' Dianc 's Ii re. cvents rhat th e

,n~ Illt I M r O, :oIl1 l r OAV lI l I Y~I':; "

Mll t 1/1) 1 1 "N I ' 'RIV I :iQJ
hrst part of the fllm completely transformed. T his occurs most obvi
ously in the relationship bctween Diane and Ca milla Rhod es, w hich
becomes the relationship between Betty and Rita in D iane's fantasy.
Despi te [)iane's des ire for Camilla RhoJes, she must constantly en
dure Camilla's open displays of affection with Ada m Kes her ancl with
other women as wdl. Camilla flaunts her enjoyment in front of O ia ne,
but always in such a way that leaves Diane out of it. W hat's more, C;:
milla seems purposefully to stage her enjoyment for Diane, in orJer tu
sustain Diane's desire. This becomes apparent when we see D ia ne,
whom Cami lla has in vited, on the set of a hlm that A cla m is shoo ting
with Cam illa. At one point in the shoot, Aclam clears the set so that he
may demonstratc-privately-how he wanrs an actor to kiss Cami lla .
But Camilla asks Dia ne to stay while everyone else lea ves m e set, and as
Aclam passionatcl y k isses her, she looks at Diane, who is the sole auJi
ence for this kiss. Ly nch emphasi.zes Camilla's conccrn with Dian c see
ing her enjoyment by show ing her looking at Di:-tne during Ao:-tm's
kiss. 1t is as if Camilla invites D iane to stay on the set and kisses Aclam
solely to arome Diane's clesire. lmm ediately before this scene, the hlm
shows C amilla anJ Diane together in D ian e's apa rtment, Iying naked
on the couch . As they begin to kiss, Cam illa stops, anJ what she sa ys
makes clea r the position into which she pushes O ianc. She tell s D iane,
"You dri ve me wild. We shouldn 'r do this ;}nyrnore:' Ca milla ures O i
anc towa rd her at the same time that she kceps O iane at a distance. Just
at the moment Diane feels that she is c10se to C amill a's elusivc en joy
m en t, Camilla wi lhd raws it a nd bars access to it. After Diane rcspond s,
"lt's him, isn't it?," Lynch immediately cu ts to the scene on the film set
where Dianc witnesses C amilla a nd Adam ki ssin g, w h ich again forces
Diane to exper ience her ow n failure to enjoyo Throughoul lhe scconJ
part of the hlm, Di ane remains within the dcadlock of desire: she can
not atrain the elusive enjoyment that her object seems to embody, anJ
she cannot cast the obect asid e and begin to 100k e1sew hcre.
But when C amill a becomes R ita shc is no longer inacccssible. I n Di
ane's fantas y, Betty and Rita not only hecomc IO\ler5, bu t Betty is abo
able to come to Rita's rescue. E nvisioning oneself a ~ me resc ucr of one 's
love object is, of course, the ultimate fa ntasy sCl nario; rhe rescue w ins
the lo ve of the lov e object by proving rhal d H' ~ll hi n t l k~c r ves this IOVl'.
This is ",vhat we see in the case of Sen)' ;111<1 Hit.l. 111 tl lt worl d o f d csi re .
Ca mill a Rhodes occ upics a pmitif)1I .. 1 ,l. ' 111 rd .tli \'t: to Dianc. 13111
20~ THr IMI' O SSIIlI r DAVID LY NCI I
vvhen Betty discovers her, Rita has no idea who she is, not even her
nam e, and adopts the name " Rita" from a Cilda movie poster. IJ Shc is
completely hel ple!is, stripped of he r m aste ry by Oianc's fantasy. The at
tractivcness of fantasy stems from this ability [O delive r the goods -to
proviJe the subject with a narrati ve in which she can access the inacces
sible object-cJuse of desire.
In creating access to this object, the fantasy structurc rernoves aud
repositions the obstacles that block Oiane's access to Camilla in the
world of dcsire . Film director Adam Kesher, beca use of h is rom antic
invol\lemenr with Cam illa, rep reseo ts a direct obstacle in Diane's path
to Camilla. As a res ult, Diane's fantasy strips Aclam of his position of
power and forces him to succum b to various rituJLs ofhumiliation. No t
onl)' does he hnd his wife in bed w ith th e pool man, but he also finds
himsclf strippcd ofhis hlm by the mob. W hen he tries to hide from the
mob (speci/lcall y, rhe Castig liane br others) at a d owntown hotel, he
lea rns that their reach extcnds everyw here, as Coo kie, the proprietor,
tells him : "W hoever you're hiding from, they kn ow w here you are."
Th e mob has also stripped Adam of all his money. C ook ie tell s h im,
"You're m axed out at yo ur ba nk, anJ your li ne of credil h as been can
celled." W hen Ada m receives this in fo rma tjon, we see bim al! alone in
a dingy d ow nt()w n Los A ngeles ho tel. Lynch uses this sctring lO indi
cate furth er the d epths to which A da m has faUen: he has losl cvery
th ing. and now be ex ists in the midH of urban sq ualor rather than the
lu xu ry of the H ollywood hilb (w here we sec h im li ving in the second
pan of the fil m) . In add ition, Adam spend s most o f the hrst part of the
film wirh pink paint splattered ove r his expen siv e black jacket. The
paint constantly remi nds us-and A dam hi mse lf--of his humiliation
in findin g his wi fe in bed w ith the pool m an o Ad am does recover his
form er station but onl y after he capitula tes to th e dem a nd of the Casti
gliane brothers and hires Cam illa Rhodes to star in his film. Thus, the
fantasy trans forms Aclarn from a hgure of mastery into a victim a nJ a
pa wn. [t both punishes him for standing in the \ovay of Diane's access to
Camilla Rhodes and rernoves !tim as an obstacle. Through Adam's
transformation, Ly nch reveaLs th e power of fantasy to clear the way to
the objec t.
Throug h the tu ro to fantas)', Ad:.lm '5 sit uati on ch:lIlges dramatiGIlly,
bu t hi s bas i( pL" r ~() n a li ty remains intacl. In the- ca se O f CClCO (A nn Miller),
th e Llflt ;I\} , h lll"II" r: l tt.:~ cv(."n lOo r!," i l~ Ir.l llS j"nf ma ti vt.: powe r as not
MI./I /101' ANO PR IVf 20S
just her situaton but her personality undergot's a complete change. In
the world of desire , Coco is Adam 's mother, and in Diane's only inter
action with her, she upbraids Diane in a harsh maternal tone for being
late to Adam and Camilla's party. In Diane's fantasy, Coco remains a
maternal figure, hut she becomes wholly ben evolent-a n ego ideal, see
ing Betty in the way that Betty wants to be seen. Coco is no longer Ad
am's mother, but the apartment manager where Bctty's aunt has an
apartment. When Betty arrives at the apartment complex for the first
time, Coco greets her with hyperbolic \varmth. She smiles and says,
"Ten bucks says you're Beny." Coco's first words to Betty indicate the
extreme transformation from her incarnation as Adam's mothe r in the
world of dcsire . There, her first words to Betty are a rebuke; in the fan
tasy world, Coco's first words cheer Betty and let her know that she has
a place in this world. Later, as she shows the aunt's apartment to Betty,
Coco offers to acquaint Betty with her neighbors. She tells Betty, "If
you'd like, later on, 1'11 introduce you around ." When Betty doesn't re
spond right away, Coco adds, "W ell, no hard feclings if you don't."
Coco accommodates her completely, welcoming hcr to hu new envi
ronment but at the same time giving Betty her own space. The fantasy
produces her as the perfect maternal figur e.
We can also understand the first part of th e film as l fantasmatic re
sponse to the second part if we compare the loo k of Diane and Betty.
Naomi Wans plays hoth characters, which initially suggests that they
represent different vcrsions of thc same person o But the characters dif
fer to such an extent that it almost appears as if a different actor is play
ing each parto When we first sec Beny in the Los Angeles airport, not
only does the film show her bathed in light, but it also shows her color
fully and attractively dressed. She wears a blu e shi rt, red sweater, and
black pants. This outfit looks stylish, and it combines with Betty's smil
ing demeanor and bright blue eyes to indicate her cheery hopefulness.
When he introduces Diane, Lynch stresses the contrasto We first see
Diane in her underlit, cheap apartment, \-",here she is dressed in a bath
robe. Diane's JishevcleJ, dirty hair a1so contrasts with Betry's, which
looks freshly styled and perfect. And 'vvhereas Betty constantly smiles
and seems eager to mect the world, Diane is morosc -ud seems defeated
by life. The contrast revea ls that Betty nffers 1)i all \,. ; way of seeing her
sclf as she wants to be seen.
206 lHI I MPO SS lnl1 I~ AV I D I YNr ll
Though Beny first appea rs as a nalve, hopeful ingnuc from D ecp
River, Ontario, her character actually ranges widely. The extreme varia
tions in Betty's subjectivity confirm her status as Diane's fantasma tic
ideal ego. This bec omes apparent when she arrives at a studio for an au
dition. 14 Up to this point, Betty exhibits the attractive innocence of a ne .....
arrival in Los Angeles, S(lmeone eager to make her way as an actor. But
in the aulition, th e actor she works with, Woody Katz (Chad Everett),
wants to play the scene not as it is written, but in a way that will provide
him sorne sexual stimulation. Lynch lcts us know this hy showing Betty
practice with Rita prior to the audition; we see Betty performing the
scene well (and as written). Despite the fact that the words are the same,
it almost seerns as if Woody is performing an entirely different scene.
Rather than rebuffWooJy for distorting and sexualizing the scene, Betty
follows his lead and evcn ratchcts up the degrce of sexualization: Lynch
uses a close-up of Bett y moving vVoody's hand onto her buttocks to show
this. Here, Betty completely defies the na"lvet she exhihited until this
point, showing hersclf to be 3. sexually experienced being. As a fantas
matic figure, she accomplishcs the impossibLe: she is innocent, yet sexual;
she is naive, yet aware of huw the world works; she is hopeful, yet not
casily du ped. In short, Betty occupies subject positions mat are contra
dictory and mutua lly exclusive. This is only possible because she repre
sents a fanta sized version of Dianc. The distortion of the fantasy allows
Betty to be all things-the perfect ideal cgo for Diane.
The fantasmatjc distortion is mos t extreme in the case of Camilla
Rhodes. This is beca use she rep resents the fantasy's nodal point; she
contain s m e impossible object. As such, the fantasy separates the name
"Camilla Rhodes" from her body in an effort to distinguish between
the pathological, undesirable parl of her and what is in her more than
hc r, the objet petit a. The objet petti a is the remainder that the process
of signification lea ves behind, and as such, it always escapes the prov
ince of the signifier (and the na me). In the fanta sy, the name "Ca milla
Rhodes" comes to signify corruption and undeserved success. We first
see this name attacheJ to a picture that two mcmbers of the mob, the
Castigliane hroth ers, show Adaro Kesher. They insist that Adam cast
this woman in h is film, te.lling him repeatedly, "This is the girl."
Through thi s ges tu re, the fantas )' accomplishes a doublc move: it tar
nish es rile act ing- ~u ccess of me actua l C am ill a Rhodes by suggesting
M I'lI" \L'''NO ORI VE 207
that mob in fl uence procured her big break, allowing her to overstep
more talented actors, and it impugns the unnameJ \\'0 111 a n w hom D i
ane secs kissing Camilla Rhodes at a party (beca use she is the woman in
the mobster's photograph identified as "Camilla Rhodes"). At the same
time, the actor who plays Cam illa Rhodes in the second part of the fIlm,
Laura Harring, appears in the first part in an entircly diffcrent guise, as
"Rita." i\.< Rita, the desirab1e part of Camilla Rhod es -embodied by
the actor H arring herself- pcrsists in the fantas)', minus the undesir
ab1e part ofh er no\\' hnked to the other Camilla Rhodes. Lynch uses the
samc actor to pl ay Camilla Rhodes in the second pan of the film and
Rita in the first part, but changes the name in order to i\lu strate fanta
sy's attempt to de!iv er the impossible object in apure form , free of any
pathological taint.
The first pan of MuthoLLalld Drive, the fantasy world , cnacts a nearly
complete transformation of the different aspects of Diane's life. It takes
the dreariness and the dissatisfaction of that life and remakes it in a
fully d eve!oped narrative. The fantasy replaces the dissatisfaction of de
sire with images of cnjoyment. Sub jects Aee into fant asy precisely be
cause it seems to cure the dissatisfaction that they cannot otherwise es
cape. As we ha ve seen , fa ntasy works to cove r over the many sourccs of
discontent tha r plague the sub ject, but it saves the abund ance of its
power for producing an image of the successful se xual relationship.
T hrough both parts of the film , Ly nch show s that che failu re of this re
lationship is the primary impetus for the turn from dcsire to famasy.
The Successful Sexua l Relationship
The essential quality of fantas y is not simpl y its ability to de!i ve r
wish fulfiUment. Its fundam ental function consists in its abuity to
address desire on the m ost important leve!, its abili ty to figur e (th e illu
sion of) a successful sexual relationship. According to Lacan, the sexual
relationship-or more precisely, the f:ulure (lf it- rcpresents th e pri
mary stumbling block in human re1ations, a stumbling block that results
from our insertion into language. As he puts ir, "no rcl ationship gets con
stituted betvvee n the sexes in tbe case of spcaki ng- bei ngs."1 5 "There is no
sexual relation sru p" becau5c the ca te.~orilS "r 1ll ,lI e .\l l d rl'l nale ind ica te a
structural impasse: cach position is srll ~ " I I t'l 1 ill :,111 " ,1 w:ly lha t it looks
for w hat the <Jthcr docs nOI h.lw. 111111111 \. h;1I il I l n~. " 111 de, ir~ o r lhe
1nn I lir I MfOr. , "1I1 n~V III I'IN'~ II
sexes are thu s not com plcm entory. Th is dooms the rela tiun uetween the
sexes te, be an tagonistic, an,] ir dooms both sexes to a continual bartl e to
ove rcome this antagonism oT hc on ly way oul ofthis antagonism in vol ves
a turo ro fa Olasy, tho ugh rantasy can onl y overcome ir in an imaginary
way. F antasy allows the su hjert ro d iscover, throllgh creat ing a narrative
around it, a way of creating Ihe illusion that the sex ual rclati on is possi
ble. Whi le th e w orld of d esi re in Muiholland D,.ive stresscs the f-lilure of
th e sexual relation, the fi lm's d epiction of fanta sy sho ws how the subject
tries to ove rcom e th at failu re. Buta n cm ph asis on this fu nction offantasy
does not begin, in Ly nch 's hody of wo rk , wirh Muthotland Drive; it is also
perhaps the ~ a 1i e nt fearu re uf Lost Highway, and it agai o indicates the
link between rhese t\Vo fi lms.
Lost Highway uepicts the failure ofthe sex ual reJ ation throllg h F reJ
Madison (Bil1 Pullman) and h is w ife Renee (Patricia A rquette). Despite
Fred's many efforts to app roach Renee's enjoyment in m e first pan of
that film, this en joyment continual1 y el ud es h im, leaving hi m haunted
by his own fail u re ro e nj oy and by h is fa ilure to relate successfull )' ro
Re nee. Bur as the fa.ntasma tic figure o f Pcter Day ton (Bal thaza r GClty),
F red is able to COOSlruct l narrative in w hich he can enj oy Alice (a lso
played by Patrici a Arquctte), l fan tas ized ve rsion of Rcnce. On the ter
rain of fantasy, w ithin rhe narrative m at it con structs, rh e im possible
sex ual rc\a tionship becomes poss ible. T his is what Ieads Slavoj Zizek to
ins ist that " fan tasy is ulti m <l teJy always the fa ntasy of a successfu l sex ual
rebtions hi p." ' Fa nta sy al lows the subject ro by pass tb e struc.tural im
passe m at constitutes the fail ed sexual re latiollship because ir simpl y ig
nores the restri ctions o f the sym bolic o rdcr. In Cantasy, che la w of non
contradiction no longer holds. For ins tance, rhe lo ve obj ect can occupy
two contradicto ry posi tion s simul taneously: it can be both out of th e
subjccl's reach, an d the subject can have it, at the sa rne time. In this way,
fa ot.'1sy mak es the impossible possible. L ost H ighw ay illustrares this op
eration of fan tasy as it de pi cts Fred\ attempt to com pensa te for the fail
ure of the sexual re1a tionship between F red and Re nee . Mut/ottand
D,.ive, however, pushes the failure of the sexual reJarionship and its fan
tasmati c resolution o ne ste p fu rther.
T he im poss ibi lity of the sex ual relalion m anifests not just between
mal e a nd It:ma lc , bu t betwcen rwo women. I n the sccon d pa n of the
fi lm . Lync h tlc' piel' r)i:lI1eSe l wy n ',~ f:li k d sex ual rd atian with Ca m ill a
R h ()d ~ ,. '1'11': 1.111 1 I'11I ; liL" fi rst part nf rhl' lil m rl'p rL"~ents Di ane's effor t
MII III O II AND nRI \![ 209
to n;rr;tc a terr;in on which this rdation woulcl succeed-anJ it is
clear rhat the fantas)' wrks: in the first part uf MulhoLland Drive, Betty
a nd Rita (the fantasmatic counterparts of Diane and C amilla) rnanage
a successful sexual relationship. By showing that th e sexual rclationship
f~lls (and requires a bntasmatic su pplemenr) eve n in the case oflesbia n
love rs, the film is not enforcing heteronormativity, reducing the lesbian
rel;tionship to the modd of the heterosex ual one. Instead, it ev inces a
refusal to roman ticize the lesbian relationship or to imagi ne that such a
rdation escapes the ex igencie~ of rhe subject's insertion into language. ' 7
N o m;tter w hat its makeup, no sexual rclation can succeed, and thus
eve ry such rdarion, out of the in ev itabil iry of its failure, spurs the sub
ject in the direction of a fant;smatic resolution. ,H
If the fundam ental role of fantas)' consists in prod ucing the im;ge of
a successful sexual rdation, this also represe nts the si te of fantasy 's pri
mary d;nger. By convincing the subject that the sexual relation can SIlC
ceed, fantasy obscures the antagonism that haunts the functioning of
the symbolic order. Coverecl over by rhe veil of fantasy, the sy mbolic or
der seems ro operate w ithout a hitch . Ir is at this point that one can see
the political problems that the tu rn to fantasy produces. Whe n subj ects
im merse thernsd ves in fa otasy, they blind them sel ves to the contrad ic
tia ns of the preva iling ideology. L ynch's films do not ignore this Jim eo
sion of fantasy. MulhoLland D,ve illus trates repeated ly the way in wh ich
D iane's tu rn to fanca sy obscurcs her position as a desiring sub jec t. But
for Lynch, fantasy's positive pol itical possibilities-l ike its a bil ity to
takc us to the point at which t he ruling symbolic structu re breaks
dow n-are much more intriguing. T he main em phas is in MulholLol1d
Drive lies in this direction, in showi ng how fa n lasy mig h t hold the key
to experiences otherwise unthinkable.
Going AII the Way in Fantasy
lf Mulholland Drive is a critique of the fa ntas iz ing that we usually asso
cia te with Holl ywood (an d ) would con lend it is nor), then ir is not rhe
usual indictment. W here most critics re primand Holl ywood for its ex
cessive commitrnent ro fantasy (ar the COSl of vc risimilitutle), Lynch
takes H ollywood to task oot for going ro" /":1 r in 111(''' i fl'l l inn (lf f<lntasy,
bUl for not going fa r ellough. Falll:lsy ,ti III \\' c. t I' 11 1 (" !1t'llt'I1U; rhe rea l
beca use it m a kes cvidcn l ; pl:ll"c ;I Idllllt t11' ~ .~\' lII ! ,,'i l ',rde r brca ks
71f1 THI' t MPO~" lnl l 1)411 11' I YNf l 1
down . As Lacan points out, "T herc is no oth er entra nce for the subject
into the real than the fanta sy."IQ Thjs becom es especially clcar in Mul
holLalld Drive as l rcsult of the stTict sepa rarion that Lynch establ ishes
between the world of fantas)' allJ w e wodd of desire. Lynch uses film
to create rigid bou ndaries, and their very rigiclity allo\\ls us to sec in re
lief what occurs at tbe poin t they come togeth er. Th is structura llogic
manifests itself in M u lholland Drive as wd!. Because Lynch avoids
blcnding together the Ievels of fan tasy and desire, he is a lso abl e to join
them togetb er 1 l w ay that re vea ls the trauma tic real t hat exists at their
po iot of intersection. T he intersec tion of fan tasy and desire is always a
point of trauma beca use it is l poim at wh ich signific;tion breaks clow n.
We construct fa ntasy to cover over a gap in rhe symbolic structure, a
place where there is no signifier. Hence, the hinge that links bn tasy to
the symbolic structure (i.e" the world o( desire) is the real, a tra umatic
moment that res ists all symboli zation.
The first time Mulh olLand Drive depicts the rea l of this intc rsection
occurs w hen Betty aod Rita in vestigare Diane Scl w yn's apartme nt and
discover Diane's dead body Iying on her bed. Because they ar e w ithin
th e fan tasy and perceiving th rough its lens, they cannot recognize the
body (nor can we as spectators). Nonethcl ess , lhe very narrative struc
ture of thc faotasy-its mys tery story-Ieads them to the fanta.sy's poim
of origin, w h ich is a trauma tic point of non-sense that OOC$ not fit w ithin
th e famasy structu re. A fte r seeing the body, Betty and Ri ta quickl y Aee
the apartment, a nd the film de pictlo their exit in a way that sugges ts that
this encoun ter w ith the real has traurn ati zed them and even thrown
lhem out of joint. As we see th em run ning out the fro nl door of the
apartm ent, the film not only uses slow rno tion, but italso blurs the im
age of both characters. We see se ve ral im ages of them on each frame,
and consequcntl y it looks as if Betty aod Rita tempora rily ex ist outside
of them selves, as if th e cncouote r with the real has disruptcd their exis
teoce relative to time. T hc conventinal filmic tec hniqucs-slow mo
tion and multiply-exposcd frame s- here playa precise role within the
narrative structure, suggesting a disruptive encounter with the real be
cause of their place relative l O th e evems of the narrative. Bu t this dis
ruption merel y presages the more sign ifica nt ones lhat foll ow the disso
IutiOll of rklO e\ fa ntasy,
Fa nlasy " IT(' rs rhe possibility oC ~U dl cn c( u n ter ~ w ith the real whc n
WI.' 1~)II4I W il ', lll~il lo i1.!> c ntl poinr, w hcr1 Wl: play out rhe fanrasy corn
,1I11 1Hl 11 4ND IJP./V/ 71 1
pletely. In this sense, as Lynch illust.rates, fantasy holos the key to its
own tra versal beca use the logic of the fantasy itself pushes the subject to
the point of its dissoluti on. As Alenka ZupanCic puts it, "Wc cannot 'get
beyond' the fantasy by giving up on the Cause that animates us but, on
the contrary, only by insisting on it until the cnd."20 The subject cannot
escape fantasy simply by opting out of it. Attempting to do so ,places the
subject all the more under fantasy's powcr because it allows fantasy to
operate without any awareness. But when we commit ourselves to the
fantasy without rese rve, the radical potential of fantasy makes itself vis
ible, as Lynch's film shows. Diane commits wholly to the fantasy of
herself as Retty and follows it as far as embracing Rita's quest for the
truth . On this quest, Retty even crawls through a window to enter Di
ane's locked apartment where she encounters Diane's dead body, even
though she doesn't recognize it as such (and, in fact, th e fantasy causes
both Rita and Betty to misperceive the bod)' and see in it a resemblance
to Rita) . Fully embracing her fantasy leads Betty/Diane right ioto the
path of the real as it appcars in the form of an encounter with her own
dead body. As this scene suggests, Mulhollalld D rive is a panegy ric to the
existential and political possibilitics of fantas y.
In the denouement of the fantasy, it becomes clear that Mulhollalld
D,.ive offe rs us a specifically feminine structure to its fantasy, in contrast
to Lost Highway , which employs a m asculinc structurc. Rccausc fantasy
employs narrative, it cannot depict the successful sexual relationship as
a static rdation: we are either approaching it or in the process oflosing
it. In each of th ese positions, the fantasy allows us to encounter the
trauma of the real in a unique way, a way indicative of ci the r a male or
a female fantas)' structure. A m ale fantas)' always comes up short; it a p
proaches a successful sexual relation but never quite attains it. The en
joyment of a male fantasy remains a pote ntial enj oyme nt, an experience
never quite achieved. Tbis is wby at the m oment Peter Dayton would
finally connect with Alice in Lost Highway, Alice abruptly withdraws
from the sex act and tell s PetN, "You'\l never have me." Peter ap
proaches the experiencc of enjoyment through the fantasy structure,
but he n ever quite arrives at it. The male fantasy holds back; it refuses
to give itself ove r entirely ro thc object. A femak fanl':1 sy, o n thc other
hand, goes too fa r. It is a faotasy of giving ('l lcsdr ('lIl ircly to lhe love
object. Thus, it does not stop shorl ; th !.' IllI l.tl , 1.1111 :I\y deoicts thc
achievement of thc succcssful st.:xual n-!.llIf lll
712 TItE I MP OHIBlf DAV ID LVNCtl
In Mulholland Drive, Lynch shows Betty and Rita starting to kiss,
and then, as they bt.:gin to ha ve sex, Betty says to Rita repeatedly, "I'm
in lov e with you." The sexual re/atinn comes off. Afterwards, Lynch
shoots them holding hands in their sleep, hinting at the bond that exists
between them. But the fantasy cannot simply stop at this point. It exists
within a temporal structure, ano it moves forward with time. The film
begins ro illustrate the dilemma of the fcmale fantasy. If male fantasy
stops too quickly, femak fantasy inevitably goes on too long. We expe
rience the successful sexual relation, but also the inescapable loss that
follo"vs. In male fantasy ami female fantasy, the rdation to the real is
fundam entally differe nt. The male subject experiences the real as al
ways futural while the female subject experiences it ;s past, an experi
ence of loss. 21
Lynch depicts this 1055 occurring just after we see the image of Betty
and Rita holding hands in their sleep. Rita wakes Betty up in the mid
die of the night with her outbursts of the word "Silencio." Despite the
late hour, she convinces Betty to go with her ro Club Silencio. From the
way that Lynch shoots th eir arrival, it is clear that at Club Silencio Betty
and Rita a re nea ring the edge of the fantasy world. In a vcry long shot,
we see them arrive in a cab, ancl as they entcr thc club, the camera
tracks rapidly to the door of the club to enter along with them. This
unusual position ing of the camera suggcsts that C lub Silencio is dan
gerous (thus the camera kee ps its d istance) and yet alluring (which ex
plains the fas e trac k forward). Inside the club, Betty and Rita watch the
emcee insist on the unreality of what they are about to secoH e does this
in a varicry oflanguages, saying repeatcdly "No hay banda-and yet we
hear a ba nd "; "It's all recorJ ed" ; "Jl n'y a pas d'orchestre"; and "It is all
on tape." By showing the emcee speaking in different languages, the
film suggests the unimportancc of the signifiers themselves relative to
what they ca nnot ca pture-the absence of the impossible object. In
many forms, the emcee repeatedly attests to this fundamental absence.
W hen the emcee speaks, we see aman seeming to playa muted trum
pct enter the stagc. But the man moves the trumpet from his mouth,
and the sound continues, indicating that, as the emcee says, "It is aH on
tape." The fantasy indica tes overtly its central concern-the object in
its absence rathe r than presence. This suggests that Betty and Rita have
reached tlw (nd point of the fantasy, th e point at which it will brea k
dow lI .
AWlIflJl lA N D ORIVf 11:1
 The film depicts this collapse occurring during a songo W hen the
emcee kaves the stage, Rebebh Del Rio (play ing he rself) sings a Span
ish yersion of Roy Orbison 's song "Crying."22. As w ith th e emcee, the
fact that shc sings in Spanish indicates that the words he re are not the
heart ofthe mattcr: what is crucial instead is Del R io's voice-th e voice
detaehed from her body as an object, the yoice as the impossible object.
Despite their knowledge mat the song is nor li ve, Betty and Rita find
themselves caught up in it anyway, able to disavow this knowledge.
They experience th e enjoyment of the impossible object in the \Coice.
Tbe song moves S etty and Rita to tears beclUse it communicatcs a sense
of loss. Rebekah De! Rio is "crying" over the lost love object, oyer the
lost sexual re!ationship, and this touches both 8e tty and Rita, as they
fee! the incipient loss of what they ha ve experienced. This feeling ofloss
marks the inevitable conclusion of the female fantasy. 'vVhcn we experi
ence the loss of the sexual relationship in fantasy as a rC5ult of following
fantasy to its end point, we ex perience the loss of a rdation that we have
never hado Fantasy effects an identification with the tost object. As
Juan-David Nasio points out, "we are, in the famasy, that w hich we
lose."23 In this st:nse, fantasy allows us to mourn th e lost object in a way
th at we cou ld not Jo wimout fantasizing. Since the subject never actu
ally has the "Iost" object, the only ex pe riencc ofloss that the su bject can
have must occur through fantasy.24 Hence, the only audleotic mourn
ing necessarily inv ol ves itse!f in tbe illusions of fan tasy, wh ich is what
we see occu rr ing at Club Silencio.
Ultimate! y, the subject cannot hold on to the expe rience of loss. Just
as the male fantasy cannot susta in the moment imm ed iately prior ro tbe
sexual re!ati o nship, th e femal e fa ntasy cannot sustain tbe moment of its
loss. Tbe structure of fantasy breaks down when the subject confronts
tbe total emptiness of tbe impossible object, w hich is wbat occurs as
Rebekah Del Rio's song continues after she has fainted. At this point,
the fantasy coll apses: Setty-i.e., D iane-can no longer disavow rhe il
lusor)' nature of the experience because she confronts rhe pure, content
less impossible object. Betty looks down in her pursc and sees a bluc
box, a box tha t represents the poine of exit from {he worlo of fantasy.
\Vhen Setty and Rita return to the apartmclll, Ri r;l r<.:1 rieves the bluc
key that sh e bad earlier found in her pur)it: .111 el tl W! Iictly hacl placed ill
a box in a closet. As Ri la !noves tow ;lrd tll t dn,II . Iltt. (alnera foJl ow:.
hcr and leaves Betty out o rlhe sh,,!. BIII \\'111:11 l< iLI tll l (1 , urou nd rmm
7].1 TIIF IMI OS ~ l aLr U AV I O 1 'f ~I r. 1I
the closet and the shot ~h()ld d .lg.lI" indud e Bctty, she isn'r thue.
Betty and Ri ta reach the poill l .. 1 ",h iel, Ihe fantasy world intcrsects lhe
world of desire. Dia ne\ rqll n": IIl.i " "l' in her fantasy can no longer con
tinue to ex isto A fter R ila m e' rlw kt.:y lO open the blue box, the ca me ra
moves into tbe openin g ill IIIL ttlp ofthe box and is subsum eo by the
darkness inside. Thc fl ll ll prte,:, liS t() expe rien ce briefly the void that
exists betwee n fantas)' a nd u ('~i rT, but quick ly we a re tbrust into the
worle! of d esin: in w hic h Ihe WOIn:ln who owns (b is apa rtment-8etry 's
"aun t" in the fa ntasy-walb in the apa rtment by herself, with no trace
of either Rita or Beny.
The came ra 's entr y in w lhe (,brkness of (be blue box ma rks the point
at w hich Mulho/land Drive shi fts world s---Ieavi ng D iane's fam :lsy and
entering a world of oesire. Lynch shows Diane Iying on he r bed , aod
the shots alternate bctwcen::m image ofh er clead body and an image of
her s\eeping bod y. Al th is p oint, the Cow boy (Monty Mon tgomcry)
walks past he r bed roOIll and says to ber, " Hey pretty gir!, ti me to wa ke
up." The Cowboy be re rep resents another version of the Mystery Man
(Ro bert Bla ke), w ho appears in Loj-t Highevay . H is appea rance testin.es
once more ro the lin k between the two films but also to a crucial d iffer
ence. L ike the Mystery Man, tbe C owboy is on the onc hand a figure of
paternal autb ority, but on the othe r he is almost colllpletel y asexual.
Both men have faces th ar loo k fem in ine, w ithout a ny facial hair--even
cyeb rowsoIn addi ti on, both ha Ye a sm all buil d a nd spca k 5oftly. This is
especially noticeable in tbe case of the C owboy (in parr because of our
expecta tions about co wboys). In LoJf HighUJay, lhe Mystery Man func
lion s as a superegoic presence for F red Mad ison, an internal represen
tative of the L aw. He caUs Fred to take up his position w itbi n the sym
bolic order. The Co wboy perform s a similar fU Dction in M ulhollan
Drive: a fter the dissolution o f Diane's fantasy, he pusb e~ Dia ne in the
direction of he r symbo lic posirion. Ca ll ing Dia ne back into the world of
dcsire, tbe Cowboy enacts a superegoic functi on . But the film also re
veals superflui ty of the superego: he tells Diane to wa ke up afie,. her
fantasy has already broken clown . W hy ? T be prese nce of the Cowboy
qua su perego a ll ows D ian e to believe that her experienc' of the empti
ness of tbe object was the result of the l:Iw's in te rvention ra mer than a
n:vdati on :t hOtll the object itsel f. That is to say, the su peregoic C0111
l11an d-"w;d,, 111',' in [hi ~ case -p rese rves for the 'lub ject the idea that,
hUl Jiuo Ih i ~ lllllll l\ ~ II ICI , lhe.: sexual rd "Ii'Ul\ hip might ha ve succceded .
: 1I 11/ln l IIND ca / V I I I ',
The suhjcct crcates cO'vvho)'s and mystery men in order to avoid recog
ni zing the truth of the object.
W hile the superego provides an alibi fo r the failcd sexual relarion, it
also pressures the subject tO enjo)' itself sexual ly. L ike the Mystery Ma n,
rhe Cowhoy i~ also a superegoic figure beca use he represenrs a pressure to
enjoyo As Lacan poinrs out in h is ;! ccount of m e superego, "Noth ing
forces anyone to enjo)' exccpt rhe superego. The superego is the impera
ri ve of jouissance-Enjoy! " 2) Hence, rhe superego places contradictor)'
dema nds on th e subject-at once requiring obedience to the law :l nd e11
joyment. This is why the Cowboy appears to Diane ar AJam's party just
at a moment when sh e helplessly looks on and envies those w ho are en
joying Camilla (right after Camilla kisses another \voman and righ t be
fore Acla m announces their engagement). The supcrego capitali zes on
the subject 's se nse that the othcr is enjoying in its sread, w hich is prccisel y
w hat Diane fecls in this situation.l(j The Mys tery M an first appears to
Fred Madison at a similar Il1oment-at a party where he sees orhers c n
joy ing his wife Re nee. But the Cow boy is a much less territying figu re
than the M ystery Man. If the Mystery Ma n is a filmic manifesta rion of
the superego, rhen the Cowboy is a lesser ve rsion.
Th c di ffe rcnce between th e M ysre ry Ma n and rhe Cow hoy attesrs ro
the associarion of Lost H ighway w ith the structure of malc subjecti vity
and Mulholland Drive w ith the structure of fem aJe subject ivity. Por the
female subjec t, the superego lacks the fcroci ty that it atrains in the case
of tbe male sllhjecl. As Frelld infamou sly puts it, U[ ca nnot evade l he
notion (though I hes itate to give il ex pression) thar fo r women rhe Ieve1
of what is eth icall y normal is diffe renr from w hat ir is in meno Their
super-ego is neve r so in exo rable, so impersonal, so ind epe nd en r uf its
emotiona l origins as we require it to be in men. ":>7 C ritics ha vc, of
cOllfSe, often condemncd F rcud for this account of the supcrcgo's 1ack
of de velopme nt in women . But Freud's only mistake consists in his he
lief that attribu r.i ng a Lessenecl supcrcgo to women represem s an erhical
indictm ent. On the contrary, as Lacan emphasizes in hi s seminar on
ethics (Seminal' VI!), the superego marks th e poinr at w hich the sub ject
abandons rh e ethical position and gives ground rclari ve to ber clesire. Ir
the male subject has a more d eve10peJ superego. rh i\ tc.:sLifics to his eth
ical failing, not his erhical purity. W hcn w<, ( 11111 r;l,t the C(lwboy w il h
the Mystery Man, Mulh olland Orive 1l1 ~lk l '" Id, 111 IlIt rcl:lIivc li rnid il}'
(lfthe su pe rego that Di ane 1Tl1lSI- !:hT. \",1 ';11. d ll' 1I"..\!)ld ~111Krcgo i(
216 I ~II IMI' O:, $ IIIII I,,,V II" I YNr:. 1I
pressure d oes not e a~c Ihe hllrd ~1I flj dc\i re, as lh e second pa rt of the
film reveals.
By showing us a \ovorl d "r dl",irc cn ti rely separate from any fantas
matic resolurion to that tk~j e, Lynch ilustrates just how unbearable
the subject (Diane, in thi, ca se) fin ds rhe posirion of pure desire. The
enjoyment rhat the imp()~,il I1 c ohjecr conra.ins seems to exist righ t be
fore her eyes-in t he ligun: <)f Cami lla Rh odes-and yet it remains
wholly out of rcach. U nablc to su:.t:lin her status as rhe subject of desire,
Diane "give:. ground relali ve to her Jes ire," as sbe hires a killer lO elimi
nate Ca mi ll a. Shc sac rifi ces the objece beca use she cannot endure tbe
inescapable dissati sfaclion that it p rodu ces. 28 But as the con clusion of
Mulholland Drive un Jerl inc!>, tbe subject cannot si m pl y el iminate the
object-cause of one's uesi re. This object is me subject's concla re. The
ontological consistency of the subject's wo rld depends on the ex istence
of th e impossible objec t, th e obj ect that resi sts integra tion into that
world and yet sustains ir w ith rhis resistance. As a res ult , Oi anc's w orld
of desire finally hreak s apan when she succeeds in destroy ing her love
obj ect. A l the end o f lhe fi lm , a blue key appea rs on tb e coffee table of
Dia ne's apartme.nt, signaling to Diane t ha t the killer w hom she hired ro
k iU Camill a has completed me jobo
W ith the dea tb o f Camil la, the ba rrier between the world of desi re
and m e world of famasy collapses, and Dia ne's fantasy life begins ro in
trude into her life of desire. T he in trusion occurs in the form offantasy
fi gu res trom the fi rst part of rhe film, Thc smiling e1derly cou ple w ho
com forted Betty on her ar riva l in Los A ngeles here retu rns to terrify
Oia ne. The fil m shows the old ma n <lnd woma n literall y crawling out
of the fantasy, as they emerge in miniature f rom the blue box thal con
nects the worlds of fa nras)' and clesire. (The ferocious figure behind
W inki e's has the blue box in a paper bag whe n the eld erly couple
em erges from it.)29 In this miniature form, L ynch shows rhem sliding
under me door of D iane's apa rtment. But in the subsequent shot, they
appear in full size and pursue Di ane into her bedroom , whcre shc
shoots herself in arder to escape thcm. The cldcrly couple is so tcrrify
ing ro Dianc-she would rathe r die than endure thcir prcscnce
beca use rbey bclong to a nother world and are completely out of place.
The fi lm dcpict:. them in such a way thal meir terror becomes full y evi
denl: Ihe c/lml i Irl l l1 g smiles o[ thei r ea rl ie r a ppe~lf<)f\ ct" here becom e sa
d istic, :" ti I I It)' 111" smi(jng al Di;lm'\ il l1 pU lC li llg ocmise. Dian e has
MIII /lnl l ANO ORIVe ? 17
fantasized about this clderly couple and c1early finds comfon in their
fantasma tic presence. But this in no way means that she actually wants
to encounter them . As Freud notes in his discussion of Oora's neurosis,
"If what lsubjects] long for the most intcnsely in their phantasies is pre
sented to them in reality, they none the less flee from it." Jo This is what
occurs with the arrival ofthe fantasmatic elderly couple into the world
of desire. When Oiane confronts them, she confronts the traumatic real
that emerges from the heart of her fantasy and that triggers a break
down of the very structure of her world. In the end, she opts for suicide
rather than enduring the trauma of this encounter.
But for a final brief montage, Oianc's death concludes lVfulholland
Drive. Through her suicide, the film suggests the intractability of thc
situation for ,rhe subject. The turn to fantasy, a gesture that promises
respite from the tortures of desire, always comes back to haunt the sub
jtct. In providing an escape from desire, fantasy pus hes the subject in
the direction of the traumatic real. /\.s Lynch's film shows, fantasy opens
the subject to an otherwise impossible exper1ience. Subjects often retreat
from dcsire into fantasy, but just as often, they retreat from fantasy
rather than experience the sense ofloss-the encounter with the empti
ness of the impossibl e object-with \vhich it con fronts them. But Mul
holland Drive obeys completely the logic of fantas y. H ence, it is appro
priate that a fantasy figure has the last word in the film. In the film's
final shot, Lynch depicts a woman with blue hair sitting in the balcony
at Club Silencio who utters the w ord "Silencio." The film 's final word
is not Lynch's warning to the spectator to abandon the illusions of f::rn
tasy. It is not a call for quiet after all the rumblings of Diane's fantas)'.
On the contrary, Mulholland Drive makcs c1ear t hat it is onl y by insist
ing on fantasy w the end that one arrives at the experience of silence.
This is the silence that exists between fantasy and desire- the trau
matic silcnce of the real that the noise of everyd ay life always obscures.
Mulholland Drive is Lynch's most existential film. By concluding
with the traumatic silence of the real, it allows the spectator to experi
ence the mome nt ofloss that generates subjectivity itself and yet which
all the actions of the subject attempt to escape. The bS5 of the privileged
object is the moment of the subjcct's birth and rh e momeo! that defi nes
subjectivity as such. If \Ve could sustain l"IlIlla CI wilh Ih is momcnt, we
would free oursdves from the illu:-.orv I'f llll l"'" ,,1 id t'Cll tl.n' and the
blandishm ents of ca pitalist aCCllllIII(; ,h IJ' WL \\,1'IlI cI Wl' 1har <.: ni oy
71" 1I1l .MI' OS S " Jl [ IIAV'" I. I"N C II
ment derives from not havi ng th e ob ject rather than having and thus
avoid the struggle to have more. Lynch takes us to this point of pure
loss, and he does S0, paradoxically, through the very fantasy that tries to
escape it.
Most fantasies-and especially the mass-produced fantasies of
Hollywood-fail to be fantasmatic enough because they reCuse to fol
low their own logic to its end point. They thus never arrive at the expe
rience of silence that condudes Mulholland Drive. This is precisely the
shortcoming that drives Theodor Adorno's critique of Hollywood film.
As he says in Minima M01'alia, "lt is not because they turn their back on
washed-out existence that escape-films are so repugnant, but beca use
they do not do so energetically enough, because they are themselves just
as washcd-out, beca use the satisfactions they fake coincide with the ig
nominy of reality, of denial." 31 For Adorno, Holly\vood films do not
fail-they are not ideological-because they go too far in the direction
of fantasy but because they do not go far enough. As we have seen,
Mulholland Drive functions as a kind of implicit response to Adorno's
critique. Ir turns to fantasy completely-"energetically enough," in
Adorno's idiom-and it clemands such a response from its spectators.
Subjects tod ay have remained too removed from fantasy, resisting the
experience toward which it compels them. Sut Mulholland Drive, like
all of Lynch's films, calls us toward a fu ll immersion into fantasy, to
ward abandoning ourselves to its logic. Only in this way can we achieve
the impossi ble.
MUI 1I 0 ~~ A N D ORIVE 219

CONCLUSION T he Ethics ofFantasy
If Lynch's films do, as I've suggested , presen t us \-vith the ethical dimen
sion of fantasy, this is oot a common way of thinking about ethi cs .
While psychoanalyticall y inclioed thi nkers h ave el aborated cthical po
sitions based 00 desirc or the dr ive, few hav e explicidy coneeived of an
ethics of fao tasy.' The noti on ma t fantasy has ao eth ical componen t
seems absurd 00 the surfacc beca use fantasy represents a turn away
from others ra ther than an atternpt to eogage th em . H ow can 1 be act
ing ethicall y when 1 retreat into m y ow n private construction io order
to avoiJ the disappoiotm e nts of the external worl d ?
It is Irnmanuel Kant who p rovi des the aoswer. T hough it has been
Hegel and psychoan aly sis that havc until this point provided the te rms
for m y app roach to Lync h, only Kant clarifies the direct link between
fantasy aod ethics rhat guides Lynch's filmmaking. This is because
Kant creates th e same di vide in hi s thought betweeo the real m of des e
and the realm of fan tasy tna t Lynch constructs in his films. T h is divide
al\ows both Kant and Lynch to see how em ies m i;h l lie on m e sitie of
fa otasy.
I n the C,-itique of Pure Reasol1, KU nl l:X p(, lI (",. 11 11' il\ll ll11pkle nes5 nf
our social reali ty (wh at ['111 cdl il\} 11 11 led' il 1.11 ,hJ ln' ) Ih ro \lgh h is
70
analysis ofhuman reasQn's lim iWlioos. Ka nt show s tha t reaso n can not
appl y the concepts from o ur L1 ndcrsta nJing beyond the limit of possible
ex perie nce and that when it .lttem pts to do so, it falIs into antinomies.
'\ntinomies are points at w h ich reason arrives at tw o contradictory
conc\usions, and they testify ro reason 's fail ure to unclerst.'lnd every
thing. But the limit is Dot ju sI epistemological: the very existence of the
antinom ie$ indicates an ineom plete ness in our very re.di ty ilselfthat no
effon of tho ug h t could re medy. As Ka nt argues in his diseussion of the
third a n tinomy, if we l r y to reaSQD abou r freed om, we w ill inevitably
faH into contradicti on , prov ing chat we are fr ee alld , a t th e sa m e time,
that causali ty gov e ms ~JJ ou r actions. Both ca usality a nd frccdom are
true, but th ey can 't bo th be tr ue (w hich indicates rha r rea son here over
steps its bounds , specula ting beyond the field of possible experienee illto
ulti mate q uest ions).2 Just as Lyn ch's fi lm s reveal the imposs ible bin d of
a desiring subj eet lik e Dia ne (Naomi W a tts) in MulhollandDrive (200r),
Ka nt's antinomies show m e powe rl essness of reason to solve rne m ost
impo rtant questions. As long as we remain w ithin lhe Ileld of our social
realiry-on rhe pla ne of d esire-we h ave questions w ithout an$we rs.
O ne of K ant's ch ief aim s in w ritiog the Critique ofPure Reason is to
convi nce LIS ro aceept the tim itation s of reason and abandon our spee u
lative, p hiloso pbical fa n ras ies coocerning the i mp o~ s i b l e questi o n~ that
reason cannot answer. T he fu st Critique is th us <I n a nti -fantasm atic text
par exceIle nce, as Kant's languagc ofrcn ind icares. F or in stance, as he
argue s a t one poi nt, "The Pi Ilars oCHercul es ... were e rccted by nature
itself in arder rh ar we pu rs ue reason's voyage oruy as fa r as the steadily
continuing coa.sts of ex pe ri ence extend; [or we ca nnot \cave th ese coasrs
of experie ncc w irhout venturing upo n a sho reless ocea n lha t, after o f
fering ro us outlooks foreve r deeeptive, compels us in the e nd to giv e
up, as hopeless, al! our bu rdensome a nd ted iou s endeav or."3 T his anti
fa n tas matic e m ic belon gs to a lo ng trad ition w ithin philosophy, fr om
Pla w th ro ugh Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibni z. According to this line
of tbought, el im inating fantasy al\ows LIS to avoid J eceiving ourselves
about the existence of a bcyo nd ; it allows u s to g ras p th e lim itation s th at
govern our thoug ht and our lives in ord er chal we m ight fuIl y think
throug h ou r situaton wiLh in th ose lim itations. Thoug h h e never had
a n a nri-fnn l:l sma tic a tt irude, Ly nch began hi s fi lm maki ng ca reer with
H\() rc :lln hlvOlkllCC concerning f~L1l1,*~y, as \Ve ~; w in rht: discllssion of
E mu"ht',uJ ( 1'l7 i ), Ihan he wo ulJ h; I VL,., U '~(( l'l!"lltl >,. Lynch'<; hrst fc:\
nNc. t jJ C', ,_ION ',' 1
ture ends with an emphasis on the destructi v en e~s that a commitment
to fantasy engenders. Lik c the Kant of the Critiq ue of Pure Rc:ason, the
carly Lynch focuses on the dangers of fantasy.
BUl K a nt does not stop writing with the first Critique, just as Lynch
does not stop making films \vith J:raserhead. W hen he composcs the
Critique of Practica! Reason, Kant explores the sphere offan tasy (though
he doesn't use this term) that goes beyond the limitations he utlin ed in
th e first C,.itique. In the second Critique, Kant locates the moral b w at
precisely the point of a fantasmatic beyond. Kantian ethics as it is artic
ulate d in this work marks a fundamental break from the implicit, anti
fan tasmatic ethic of the frst Crique . For Kant, our very abili ty to give
law s to ourselv es sticks out excessivdy from the phenomenal world of
representation. lf causality governed al! events without a hitch, Ka nt
wo nders, why wo uld a being construct laws, when their very form
you must obey regard less of what natural causes are leading you ro
do-suggests a freedom that defies causality" Kant'~ g reat insight re
ve rses our usual way of thinking about the relationship between law
and freedom: we don't have laws beca use we are free; we are free be
cause we have laws . Or, as Kan t puts it, the subjec t recognizes "that he
can do som ething beca use he is a wa re that he ought to do it an d cog
ni zes freedom within him, which, without the moral law, wo u/ d have
rem ained unkn own t(l him."5 Our 3bili ty to giv e oursdves b ws does
not fi t w ithin the world of cau sality and pro ves rhat a nother realm-3
rea/m of freedom-necess3rily exists.
Becallse the morallaw has this exccssive rdatio n ro rhe phe nomcnal
wo rid, one cannot sim p/y .'ice Kant as proffering two alrernare and pa ral
le! m oda lities ofsubjectivity--{)ne theoretica l and one practical. GIt is not
just tha t we are either d etermin ed or free depenclin g on the perspectivt
that one takes. Jnstea d, th e two moda/ities exist in a dia/ ectical rela tion:
practical reason (fantasy) emerges in respon se to the failure of [hcoretical
rcason (desire). Practical reason is fanta smatic because it per mits lis to
kno\\' th\:: impossible-the fact of our freedom, w h ich is precisely w hat
theoreti cal reason leaves constitutively unkno wab/e. T hroug h the use nf
our practical reason, we can ide ntify w ith a fant~ls!l1 alic beyond-thM is,
embrace the morallaw- and thereby tTaI1S( , li d ti 11: 1il11 its vf Lhc()retic: d
reaso n, limirs which are consonant witIl tll"~( r".lhli,hcd hy lhe sym
bo lic law. Ir is onl y th rDug h f; lnl;~ y tI ,.I! \\'\ ol l',I! '\' 1 I f rn'd ' " I1- o r, in
Ka n t 's t.c rrn ~, a lIlono1l1 y r ;!I " n tIl; \11 11\ f, 1 ((lIofll \
Th is is rhe rr~'n 1111 11 I1I 1I \'"4 .1~1! I ~ I\tr~ 1 P~d Il1c r (Sberyl Lee) d iscover at
the end ofTwin }jl'./k\ FIII 11'1"'" /I,,J, !lIt: (f 992), whe n she acts aga inst a l!
patho/ogical mou v:Hi, Hl\ and J 1I /!'. 11 1) lile ring in order ro defy BOB. Ir is
the frcedom thar all ows A lvill '-it I .li.:11l (Richa rd Farnswo rrh) ro endure
multiple humi l i a ti on ~ in o [l b l !l -"ce his brothe r a final ti me in The
Stmight Story (1 999) ' T hc:-;,' ;I~' I 'i nCCllr when subjects transcend th eir ev
eryday social rea liry thrctLIglt Iheir absoJute commitm en tto fa ntasy.
There ,is somcth ng l"ulIJn mentally li beratory in the structure offan
tas y. Because f3n tasy stag-es a scene rarher th an providing an ans wer on
the leve! of th nught. alone, il is able ro sh 'vv us w hat necessari ly rema ins
in visible w ith in m e sym bolic stru cture. 8 F antasy takes the subj ect be
yond the rules mat gove rn possible experie nce-beyond the limits of
the und ersta.nd ing-a nd rhereby envision s the im possible, as we have
seen in each of Lynch's fi/rns. On the one hand, rhis im age of rhe beyo nd
deceives rhe su bject into rhinking tha t it has access to an object tha t ir
doesn 't in actualiry have; but n the other hand, the fantas m alic sce
nario allows m e subject to cn ter a place w here the ord inary rules no
Jo nger appl y. By immersing oursel ves in this beyond and remaining
faithful to fantasy's logic, we inj ect, as it were, a diffcrent orde r of cau
sality into the phenomena l worid. Ir is in this sense tha r complete iden
tificario n with rhe fa ntasy's derou r has the statu s of an emical act, an act
in w hich we d isrega rd the entire fi eld of representati on an d the dic tares
f sym bolic law.
Fantasy a llows us to discover ou r freedom only when we cease re
ga rding it as ao escape frorn our real ity a nd begin to see it as m ore rea l
man ou r reali ty. T be real becomes visible in tlle obvious fa kery of the
fantasy. By idcntifying fully wi th one's fa ntasy as what is real, n e val
ues me fantasm atic di sto rtion in being ov er bei ng itse!f-alld thereby
privi leges me gap in the str uct ure of ideolog y and the breach in the
reign of ca llsality. By em bracing one's own fa n rasy publidy and givi ng
up m e idea of o ne's own fantaS)' as a priva te retrea r from the world, one
accom plish es m e ethical act. 9
Cinem a is tbe privi lcged si te for facili tan g such acrs because its very
lorm involves me
pu blic scree nin g of private fa ntasy. Bu t in order to
realize the eth ics uf bnta ~y, cincl'n a lll ust find a way to take famas y ro
il S ene! pll inL. T hi s is w ltal Dav id I.ync h atcomplishes by isoJating the
",,, ri el or
~ lJll a~y ;IS ; d istinll r(":" 11 1 wid lin the -lm ie exper ience. He
I 11.lhlc:. II~ ,ti ~n II/JW di(" illSi' ll'1I1 eh VIIIIII" 111 ' II l'\ : I IlUl$y thru sts the
. nNCIUSION 223
subject into the realm of freedom. Rather than he,i ng an imaginary re
treat from al1 unpleasant reality, fantasy becomcs fur Lynch the path
that takes us beyond the false limitations that mak e up our cveryday
reality. Through an absolute commitment lO our fantasies, we change
the nature of reality itself. NOTES

Infroduction: The Bizarre Nafure of Normality

I. Sec Rain er Maria Rilk e, "The Archaic Torso of Apollo," Thc Sclected Po
ctry of Rainer Maria Rilke, tra ns, Stephen MitchelJ (New York: Vinrage,
1989), 61-62.
2. O rson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich, This Js 01'son We/les, ed, Jonathan
Rosc nba um (Ne w Yo rk: Harpe rC ollins, 1992),2 [7.
3. For an elaboration of this idea, see Chris tian M etz, The Jmaginary Szgnifier:
Psychoanalys and Cinema, trans, Celia Britton, Ann w yl Williams, Ben
Brewster, and Alfred Gu zzetti (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1982).
4, Mc tz, Jmaginary Signifier, 48,
S. La ura Mulvey, "Visual Pleasure a nd Narrative Ci nema," in Bil! Nichols,
ed., Movies and Methods, vol. 2 (Berkeley: U of California P, 1985), 307.
6, This is a point that Jean-Paul Sartre stresses in his chapte r on "Tlle Look"
in Being and Nothingncss, For Sartre , th e subject cannot avoid its funda
mental situatedness, which means that it cannot avoid the Other's look,
which follows the subject everywhere. As Sartre puts it, "The Other is
present lO m e everywhcrc as the one through whom 1 become an object. "
Jean-Paul Sartre, Being and Nothingncss, transo Hazel E. Barnes (New
Yo rk: Washi ngto n Squa re Press, 195 6), .373.
7. W ill g~'ns l ( 'ill Il lllkes a similar point w hen he insists th ar there is no private
Llngll al'1I' F"r W ilt gc nstei n, la ngungc , \\Iilh its basis in rules, depenus on
1I1L' " " . 1' rlll 1,1 111I1I1 1plr: spe::;ker s, 1; ) gi \'" " 1111" 1" on esd r :rl one wo uld be

22. TH~ IMfO$510,1 l1O.V I C ~ '!'I,H; II 225

 nonsensical because no one could say whcther o ne vi()Lates the rule or nor.
As Saul Kripke puts it in his grou ndbreakin g wor k on Wi ttge ns te in 's pri
vate hl nguage argument, "a11 talk of an indi vi dual f()lIowil1g r ules has ref
erence ro him as a member of a communi ty" (Saul K ripke, Wittgenstein on
Rules and Private Languuge: An ELementary Exposition [Cambridge: Har
vard UP, 1982], 109)' Though we can use language pri va te ly, hlnguage
origina tes as a public activity, and this public dimension continues to in
form every private use.
8. F. ,. e n the filmmaker ,.,'1'0 m akes films just for herlhimse1f, films neve r tu
be screened for a single spectaror, nonetbd ess posits th e non e xiste nt spec
tator in the making of the film. As is th e case w ith the di a rist, this film
maker makcs refere nce lO th e spectator or audien ce throug h th e very act of
turning to an inhertntly public m edium . If one we re simpl y maki ng a film
for onese1f or writing for onese1f, there w auld be no need for the detour
through a form that othe rs are able to comprehend. This detour testifies ro
the prf~s"nce ofthe public at the hcart oflbe most priva te production.
9. Thc test scrccning is the objectiv e correlatj\ ~ ofthis J ynami c; it reveals e x
plicitly that th e studios shape films according to h e spectaror's look . But
even films that studios d on 't submit to a test sc ree ning (like l he m a jo rity of
Ly nch 's films) sti11 anti cipa te [he spectator 's look in tbe w ,ry that they a re
structu red . A di rector c reates a film in order that the speClato r will see it in
a specific way, eve n ir, pe r ve rsel y, [he ultimate ho pe is that rh e spee tator
will despi se it. Though it is structurally impossible lO make a film no' or
ganizeJ a round the speetator's luok, it is ve ry di ffieu lt to m a ke the specta
tor aware of this fact.
10. Joel Black, T he Reality Effect: Film Culture alld the C"aphic Imperative
(Ne w York: Routlcdge, 2002), 6t. ondo n; Plex us, J997), 7
23.
11. Bertolt Brech t, "The E p ic Theat re and lts D ifficulties" in Brecht 071 T he The di visiOl1 berwccn th e wo rld s of d esire and fantasy in Lynch's fi lm s
ater, ed. and transo John W ille tt (New Yor k: Hill and Wa ng, 196 4),23. tak es place wilhi n lhe brger fantasy st ruc ture rh at is the film itself. Bc
12. M ul vey, " Visual P lcasure and N a rrati vc Cinem a," 315. M ulvey was nut
content simply ro theo ri ze this alterna tiv e. Shc also mad e a fil m , Riddle.o(
the Sphinx (1977), cod irected wi th P ete r Wollen, w hi ch attempts to placc
the specta tor in the position of "passionate detachment. "
13. Metz , Imagincll"j Sgnifier, 3
14- C ons ta nce P enley, "The Avant-Garde and lts Imaginar y," in N ichols, cel.,
Mouies and Methods 2:596 (her emphasis).
15. In stead of Godard, o ne rn igh t eq ua lly focus o n Agncs Varda, Chris Ma rkcr,
Stan Bra kha ge, o r C hanral Acke rman, ju., t 1(1 nlllll' ~ rcw.
16. P ascal Bonitze r, Le champ tl lleugLc: r;S.'ai, (I/r fe 1'(" t.lwll( (/11 c'1It'mu
C a b ie rs du cinma, 1()')9), ')1 (my Ir:lIl.I.IIi",,)
71 t, N O 1 [S
7. Karl Ma r x, CapitaL, v ol. 1; A Critical AnaLys olCcrpitalt Production , t ranso
Samuel M oore and Ed w ard Ave ling (New York : ln ter n ational Publishe rs,
19 67), 77
18. It was H erbe rt M arcusc w ho fi rsl no ticed the disconn ection bet wccll be lief
and obedi en ce in adv anced capi talisr socicry- an id ea dev clo ped more
full y by Pete r Slotc rdij k an d Slavoj Z izek . I n One-DimelJ.iiom/ Mall. Mar
cuse la m ents, "The ne w to u ch o f the magic-rituall :m gu agc rat.her is tha r
people d on 't belicvc it, or d o n' r care, and ye t act acco rdi ng ly." H erbert
Mar cu~e, One-Dimensiol7tll Man (B05lO n; Beacon P rss, 1964), 103.
19. C hi on 's book , while full of ou tsta nd lng insi g hts in to L ynch's fi lms, neve r
rries to bring these i.n sights togcthcr into a cohe rt nr vi sio n of Lynch as a
fi lmmakcr. In faer, C hion activcly resists such a visio n and would u nd ou bt
edl y see ir as a viola tion of [he fra gm en red narure of Ly nclt 's project. ZiZe k 's
book , in con t rast, g ras ps a central id ea behind Ly nch's fil mma ki ng a.n d
link s it ro psych oana lytic th eo ry, but he does no t extcnd t his conncction
beyo nd Lost Highwuy .
20. Ma rtha NClC h i mson, The Passioll 01 David Lynch: WiLd ar Heart ill HoLly
wood (A ustin: U of Texas P, 1997), 13.
21 . Thc rclationshi p berween rh e deconstructive attit ude and sLlsraining clis
tanCt~ is ev ident in the th oug ht of Ja eques D errida. Dcco nstruction enables
D err ida ro a.vo id being p inned d own to a specific ph il osophi ea.l posirio n.
When e yer a e ri tic attcm pts ro say stra ighrfor wa rdly what d cco nstrueti ()n
is, the eritic always gc ts it wrong because d eco nstru ctio n h as no cssence; it
is instcad th e fo rce tba t und erm ines esse nee. O ne II ceessa rily c!cconSlructs
frorn a 5afe d istance .
22. Pau l A . W ood s, Weirdsvitlc, USA : The Obsessive Univer.,e 01 David Lyllch
cause he prese nts the world of desire w ithin tbe fantasrn at ic m edi um o f
film, th is world is necessari ly a fa ntasi zed im age of the wo rlJ of d esire.
24. loa.n C op jec, Read My Del'c; L aam Agaimt the Histo rie/sts (C:Jmbridge:
M IT Press, 1994), 54 (her em pha sis).
25 . Slg mu nd F reud, "Negatio n" (1 925), trJn s. Jam es Strachey, in The Standard
Editio71 olrhe Complett' Psychologlcal WOl'ksol Sigmtwd Freud (he rea fte r, SE ),
vo L ' 9 (London: H ogarth P ress, 19r), 237 (F re ud 's emp hasisl. T he concep
non oCa psyehoan alyt ic nor m ali [y has no d irect roo l in Freud's own thnug h t.
Fre uJ n\:vcr up h o lds a ccr win idea of normali lY, even one in cont ras l to
(P'lrj,;; bOl! r.({loj, Hormul ity, For fear tha.r psycb oan nlysi, 111 igh l b ec~) m e a normaJi z
ing 1'1.11 1j... (.1 ' 111.l rgely becn me in tl1l' U n il('d '-;1;11<:, ). N nn etheless, on e can
I"OH!~. 777
 construct th e idea neg atively 011 th e hasis of wh at F rc u d sa ys about ne urosis
and p~ yc hos is. This idea of normality GJ.nnot serv~ as anything but a way of
und e rstanding th e elirection that ps)'choan a lysis takes the subject.
26. This id ea figur es pro mincntly in phenom enological fi lm theory. A s Fra nk
Tom3sulo has pointed Out in his essay on rh e Roelney Ki ng viJeotape,
"Human be ings ra re ly enter a sit ua tion, historical or otherwise , with a
fr esh, ul1tainted pe rspectiv e. In other worels, peo ple ge ne rally do not come
to believe l hings afier seeing rhe m; th ey see t hings un ly w he n th ey already
bdieve them- based on their prior LebetlStvclt anel m edia e xposure."
Frank T o m as ulo, " TII See Ir Wh e n I Bel icve Ir': Rodney King and th e
Prison-house o fVdeo," in Vivan Sobchack, cd ., Th e Persistenct! (Jf History:
'inema, Television, and th e M odern Event (Ne w Yo rk: Routlcdge, 1996),82
(Tomas ul o's emphasi s) .
27. As F reud puts it, " both in neurosis a nd psyc hosis th cre co m es into COI1
sidera ton the qu es rion not onll' of a to.'s of rcaLity hut also of a sub.((tte
for rea tity." Sig mund Freuel, "The Loss of Reality in Neu rosis and Ps y
chosis" (1924), transo James Strachey, in SI:", vo\. 19 (1961): 187 (Freud's
emphasis).
28. For more on the cine m :ltic deploymc nt of desire and fa ntasy, see T odd
McGowa n, The Real GaZt': Film Theory Afier Laam (A lban y: Seate U o f
New York P, 2o(7)'
29. T o p ut it in t he te rms of Russan Form alism, M emento g ives us a syuzhet
(plot) without afabula (story): it is impossibk !O co nstruct a cohcrc nt fa b
ul a fro m th e d e ta il s that the sYllzhet g ives uso If o ne doe s artempt to con
srruct a fabula (liS is pe rhaps inevita ble), th (' fa ntasma tic d ime nsion of the
exercise bccom es ob viou$ beca us e one must ckarly rel y on nne's ow n as
sllmptions rather than on conclusivc indications from the syuzhet. This
suggests rhat th e co nstruction uf a fabu la as such s a fantasma ti c gcs ture
and lhal film s which allow l he specta tor ro deciph e r a cohe re nt fabu la bc
tray a n in ves tm em in fantasy.
30. Thi s is not to say, of cou rse, th al th e films contain pure rep resen tations of
fama sy and pure re prese nta tio ns of worlds wholl y lacking in fantasm atic
eleme nts. Inste:1d , in ne we sce the ge neral structure of famasy a nd in t he
othcr th e genera l structure of desire. One ca nn ot en tire ly sep;lnUe famas)'
and desire, but by cstablishing clea r differe nces in th e styl e betwee n the
two parts of the fi lm, L ynch is able tO rcveal th e di stinct log ic of each.
3 1. Sla vo j Z ize k, Looking AtVry: An l ntroduction fO Jacquc:s Lacal1 Thmuf!/
Popular CuLtul'e (Ca mbridge: MI T Prcss. I l}lll ), (, ('Z lic k" empha sis). Marx
makes a simila r point ahour the rcl:ltilll1'hil' 1,, t \\"" 11 d t',in.: and (;1111"')'
wh en he poims out that. " Mank illd 11 \11', IlInn.tl, ly ,. t\ it "c lr 1)111 Y '11ell
'~R N0 11 ..,
las ks as it is a bk to 50 1\'c, sinc<: close r exa mi ' IJ ti on will a lways show that
th e pro bl em itsclf ari scs onl y whe n th e material condit ions for its solution
are already present or at \cast in t he course o f for mation." Karl Marx, A
COlltribution to th e Critiq ue of Poltical Fwnomy, transo S . W. R yaza n ~ kaya
(New York : Inte rna tional Publishers, 1970),21
]2. T he re h ave been dircc to rs w ho ha ve foll o wcd Flemng's d ivision m o re ex
actly. Both A ndre i Tarko\'sky in Stalker (1979) and Wim Wenders in Wings
ofDere (t 987) use th e diffe rence be twce n blac k-and -w hite and color pho
tography in rh e same way thatFlem ing does in The Wizard ofOz.
33 C hris Rodl ey, ed., Lynch on Ly17Ch (London: Fabe r a nd F abe r, 1997), 194.
34 rn the Intmductory Lectures, Frc:ud says. "nellrotics m e rely ex hib it to us
in a magn ified a nd coa rsened form w ha t the ana lysis of dreams re vea ls
to us in healthy people as wd!." Sigmund Frcud, Intmductory Lectures on
Psycho -A naLysis (1916- 17), tra ns o James St rachcy, in SE, vol. [6 (London:
H og;,rth Press, 19(3),338.
35 Fo r a n elabo rn tion o f thi s idea of the spec rato r conceived in terms of the
thea tc r rathe r th:lIl the ci ne m a , see \ Valter A . D av is, Get the Guest.s: Psycho
analysis, M odem Am('t'call Drama, illld the Audience (Mad ison : U af W is
conSln P, 1994) .
36. F rcud d efi nes rhe expe ri ence of lhe unca n ny as the recogniti o n of che fa
mi li ar with in th c strange, and, acco rdin g to this definition , one must caunt
Ly nch as one o f th e: premic re film m a k ers o f th e lInGUlny. See Sig mun d
Fre ud , "Th e Uncln ny" ( 191 9), t ra nso Alix Strachey, in SE, vo!. 17 (Lon
don : Hoganh Press, 1955),21 8-56.
37. Ofle cou lJ a lso co unt A lfred H itchcoc k, An drei Tar kovsky, A la in Resn ais,
Wi m Wend e rs , clnd fa ne Campon a mong the fi lmm :1ke rs with a Hegelian
orientation. Eac h c reares distance in relation to the spec tator in order sub
sequently lO brea k it down. But Lynch has made thi s aes th etic more cen
rra l an d tak e n it fur the r than anyo ne elsc.
38. G . W. F. Hegel , Th e PhenomenoLogy of Spirit, transo A. V. M ille r (Oxfo rd :
Oxfo rd UP, t 977), 14 (Hcgel's emphasis) .
)9. H egel, Phellomenology ofSpirit , 200 (Heg cl's c mpha sis) .
40. Ibid., 492.
4 1. JI1$1" :1 5 Ly nc h ins ists on <, cin em atic commitmem to fam:1 sy without re
spi re, the chap te rs that foll o w ev nce a simil a r com mitmem to rh e thcoreti
ell rantas}' dl a t m akc~ selbe o[Ly nc h 's cinema in tCrIns of its relationship
ro fa masy. T hnt i ~ to sayoat no point d o I note how Lyn ch's films might not
fr \V it hi n t h is t hc()rc ti c.,1 a pproa ch. 1 ha ve const ructed the book in this
w a y-n ~" ,t i l1 g ;111 ;th ~o l ute inre r prl'talioll . 1.. pllt il in H egel\ ter ms---out
rl rI \1" 1", Iil' i d], 11 ,," 1Y ' lI .:h ; \11 iIItl q ," t;t t iO Il 1:1 kn I he i nr.:x pl ica bl e di m e n-
NOTH 1'/9
 sion of Lyneh's \York seriously by showing how iL Cunctions rather than by
simply pointing it out.
42. Jaeques Laea n, Le Sminaire, livre XVJl: L'Envers de la psychallalyse, ed.
Jacques-Alain Miller (Par is: Se uil , 199 1), [43 (m y tram lation).
43. By e1iminating distanee, Lynch's films also elimi nate any sense of an objec
tive rclationship bc twee n spectator a nd ~cree n . As C h ristele Couleau puts
it, " \Vhat is important is ofte n less what one sces (man)' details remain un
decidable, v en imagc by image) than what one beheves one sees, what o ne
wants ro see." Christel e Couleau, "loge et pouvoir d e I' A bscnt: Sur Lost
Highway et i\4ulholland Drive de David Lynch ," Recherches et travaux 64
(2004): 241 (Couleau's emphasis; rn)' translation).
J. Sacrificing One's Head for an Eraser
l. Christian Me tz, The Imaginary Signifier: Psychoanalysis al2d Cinema , transo
Celia Brinon, Ann wyl W illiams, Be n Brewster, and Alfred Guzzeni
(Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1982),91.
2. Daniel Daya n, "The Tudor-Code of Classical Cine ma," in Bill N ichols,
ed., Movies alld Methods, vol. 1 (Bcrkcley: U of California P, 1976),451.
3. Infinite regress is not, ofcourse, the end of th e stor)' fo r Kant. The use of rca
son to add ress transce nd e nt questions I ike that of th e or igin of the world re
sults in dynamical antinomics whe rc both possible a nswers are wrong . Rea
son can prove both that che world ca nnot have had a defi ni te orig in and that
it must ha ve originated at sorne point. The question of origin is thus one of
the key qu estions for its abili ry ro reveal the limitations of rcason .
4. As Joan C opj ec points out, "we are born not into an alread y constituted
world that im p inges on o ur se nses to form pcrce ptions, but in the wa ke of
a primordial 105S." Joan Copj ec, Image There's N o WO/new: Etlcs and
Sublimatiol! (Cambrid ge: M TT Press, 2002), 192.
5. Jacques Lacan, The Four Fundamemal Concepts of Psyc/o -Analysis, tran so
Alan Sheridan (N ew Yo rk: N ono n, 1978), 197.
6. Lacan, Four Fundamental C01U:epts, 198.
7. Michel Chion, David LY1/ch , tra nso Robert Julian (London: BFI, [995),35
8. Aaron Ta)'lo r points out that Lynch's use of ligh ting produces partial bod
ies on screen. According to Taylor, "the viewer's com plete attention is fo
cussed on the bodies of th e characte rs and how th ey operate in space anrl
time. These a re bodies tha t m ay be thought of as ra rdy co m plete o r w holc,
especiall)' considering th eir fragm e ntar ion h ~' 1he \ t'ry ~c I CCl pools of lighl
which on ly illuminat.: parts oftheir ;1I1:1 III1I IY" \\, hil ,. hlcn.ling he rest inl"
the surrounding d nrkness" (:l ro ll 1 :lvl"I .' I{IIJI I,.h Ile 1\1' SI'lI trh low;lnl
Bet hlchem lo Re 8u rn': hm.f/ 'rllI'r/fl 111, 1 ti lO (tll,l, '11' " 1 Ii I. IIIII W h q~l' IllI u r
210 No n
Has Come Round at L 'ISt]," Canadian ouma! of Film Studies ').2 12000]:
68). By fragmen tio g rhe bod y wirh light, Lynch creates a boJy of desire, a
bod)' visibly burJened by lack.
9 David Lynch ,Lynch on L ynch , ed. Chris Rodley (London: Fabe r and Faber,
1977), 56 .
10. Paul A. Woods, Weirdsvit/e, USA: The Obsesv{' Unil:'CI'se of Dav{l Lynch
(London, Plcxus, (997),34.
1 I. Greg Hainge, "Weird or Loopy? Specular Spaces, F eed back, and Artifice
in Lost Highwcty's Aesthetics of Scnsation," in Erica Shcen a nd A nnette
D av iso n, eds., The Cinema of David Ly11Ch: American D" eams, Nightmare
Visions (London: WaJlflowe r, 2(04), 138.
12. The re is a direct pa ralleJ between the wo rk e r's sac ri/i ce ofe njo)'ment for the
sake of the machin e ,tnd the pare nt'.~ sacri/ice of en joym e nt for the sake of
the child. Th e mac hi ne and the chi ld cnjoy in the place ofrhe worker and
th e parc nr. E ,.asel'head implicitly ackn owledges this para /l el rhrough the
link between its mise-en-scc ne (which providcs the background ofthe cn
joying machine) and its n::m a ti ve (which hig hli g hts che presencc of the en
joying ba by). Ln each C<ls{", one sacrifices e nj oyme nt in hupes ofga ining more
than one has sacrificed- in the form of either future rich es o r th e vicarious
enjoyrnent of the child who will ha ve o ppo rtunities tha t che parellt did not.
~ Erascr/ead shows thro ug hout, capita lism capi tal izes on t he structure of
hu man re p rod uction in order to convince subjects to invest themsd vcs in it.
13 Lacan notes rhat ir [S Ma rx's conceprion of su rpl us va lue th:lt allows him to
d iscove r the existe nce of surplus en joymen t. che en joyment th ar em e rges
in th e subject after an [nirial sacri/i ce o f e njoyment. See Jaeques L acan , L e
Sminoire. livre XVII: L'Envel:, de la psychalJalyse, ed. Jacq ues-A la in Mille r
(Pa ris: Se uiJ, 1991).
14- Sigmu nd F reud, Five Lectures on Psycho-Analysis (1 9 10 ) , transo James
Strachey, in SE, vol. II (Londo n: Hogarth P ress, [957),5.
15 Of eourse, the de piction of the mo ment w hen [a ntasy em e rges in Erase/'
head is enrirely m ythical. As r pointed out ea rlie r, bntasy accompanies the
experience of desire from rh e bcginning; there is no desire without its fan
tas matic supplemcnt. BU l Lync h's se paration of th ese n:alms has the virtue
of allowing us to see more precisel y whar strengthens and furth e rs the
subject's arcach ment ro fa nta s)'.
16. Jacq ues LaC<ln , Le Sminail't!, livre X: L'Angoisse, 1962- 1963, ed . Jacques
Alain M iller (pans: Scu il, 2004) , 89 (m y translatian).
17- C hion.David Lynch, 46.
[8. G ive n [he li n k Iwtwee n sexcd reproducli o n an cl c:lstr::ttion, it is not surpris
ing Ih:1I I V'" lo 1'.>I"" tc~ he gcncsis uf Ih ~ id ..;, I;,r b 7lJ'erhead ar th e rime
w lw lI 1.. 10 ,'1111 1, ,,,, he W;IS going 1" Iw.11:,tlllT.
NOTfS '3 '
19. G. W. F. H egel, First Philosophy o/Spil"it, trans oH. S. I~I a rris, in '"System of
Ethical Life" and "Fint Phi/osophy ofSpirit" (Alban y: State U ofNew York
P, 1979),233.
20. Judith Butler gives this position its most elaborate expression. See Judith
Butler, "Competing Universalities," in Judith Butler, Slavoj Zizek, ana
Ernesto Laclau, Con tingen cy, Hegemony, Universality: Contemporal'y Dia
Logues on the Lefi (New York: Verso, 2000),136-81.
21. Few ha ve probably fantasized about th eir heads oeing uscd as material foe
the proJ uc!ion of erasers, but the structure of fantasy requires a t teast some
type of masochistic dimension, even if it transposes this masochism into
sadismo In order to access the lost object, fantasy must revisit the expcri
ence of 10ss, though it m ay do so by imposing loss on someone else.
22. Karl M:HX, The Economic and Philo.fOphic Manuscript.r of 1844, transo M ar
tin Milligan (New York: Internat iona l Puhlishers, 1964), ISO (Marx's
emphasis).
23- For more on the continlled prcsence of the demand foe sacri/icc amldst
co ntemporary capitalist society and its dcmands that we en jo)' ollrselves,
see Toad McGowan, The f:nd o/ Dlssati.ifaction? Jacques f.acan and lhe
Ernclging SOclcty of Enjoyment (A lba ny: State U of New York P,2004)
24. \Vh en the subject makes the initial choice to enter the social o rd e r, shelhe
does not cxperience it as a free cnoice. lt is, in Laca n's way of putting
things, a forced choice, like th e ane that the thieves prcse nt to their victims
when th ey ask, "Your money o r yOllr life?" The forced choice offers the
subject a no-win situation in which one must choose life (the social order)
in order tO ha ve a nything at al!. Be fore e ntering the social ord er, th e suo
ject is nothing, not cve n a slIbject, a nd thus must agree to th e aet of sacri
/ice. This sacri/ice constitutes me subject as such. But th e initial forced
choice is not the cnd of rhe story. Because th e subject continuall y upholds
this choice by a sustained commitment to the social ord e r, shelhe can al
wa ys rev isit ir and choose othe rwise.
25. Jacques Laca n , The Seminar ofJacques Lacan, Book XX: Encore, 197 2 -"1973,
transo Brllce Fink (New York: Norton, 1998), 42.
26. Laean, Sem inal" XX, -p.
2. The Integration of the Impossible Objeet in rhe Elephant Man
J. Lynch and th e film lost th e Osear race ro Robcrt Redford a nd ls /irst ka
ture /ilm, OrdiflOl)l People. Lyneh , ChristClpht:r .le.: Vm e, :ll1d E ric Bcrgrl"n
also lost in th e ada pted sc rcenpl ay r;1("(" lo 1\1, ill "i;rgt" ,II . who w wte Ordi
nar)' PeopLe . T he ir sc ree npl ay fi,r T I/(: I ~'kl'/"rlr \/111/ w ~ I,. I',I~ I' d illlarge 11:11'1
on the accounr "fJ ohn Mt'rrick \ 1i.. \\, ,11 1 11 1,1' Ii', ,',klll l.. f'rl'vl's. d Il' d",
732 NO Ir s
tor who rescued t".1errick f ruln carn iva l life. It was not bascd on the Bcr
nard Pomerance play, which was aJapted into a tel ev ision movie in 1982.
2. Martha P. Nochimson, The Passion ofDavid Lynch: Wild al Heart in H olly
wood (Austin: U ofTcxas P, 1997), 141-42.
3 Lynch 's focus on the warning "No Entry" eehoes the opening shot of the
parad igm:uic film devoted to the impossible objeet- Citizen Kane (Orson
Welles, 1941). Welles begins the /ilm with a shot of a "No Trespa ss ing"
sign on the gate to the Kane estate, and the film subsequently revolves
around the absent object attached to th e signi/ier "Rosebud." In each case,
the sign assists in situating the object as impossiblc.
4 Enjo)'ment is not con/ined to moments to when one exceeds a symbo'lic
limit, wh eD one tran sgresses, as w e might ex pect. Ir is much more common
[or subjects to enjoy respecting the limit. even though this lea ves them
within the confines of the symbolic law. Enjoyment exceeds che law, but it
is also the point at which the law exeeecls itsclf, whi ch is why one can en joy
driving 5'5 miles per hour every bit as much as one can enjoy clriving 155
miles per hour. When ane enjoys dri ving 55, one enjoys this cxccss tha is
internal to the law. This is what Lacan did not yet see in Seminal' Vil,
where he sees transg ression as th e sale path to enjoyment. As he puts it
there, "We are, in fact, letl to the point w he re we accept tbe formula that
without a transgression there is no acCl:SS to j ouissance, and, to return to
Saint Paul, that that is precisely the function ofthe Law. Transgression in
the airection ofjoulssance only tak cs place if it is supported b)' the opposi
tional principIe, by th e forms of th e Law." Jacques Lacan, The Seminar of
Jacques Lacan, Book VIl: The Ethics of Psychoanalysis, 1959- 1960, transo
Dennis Porter (New Yo rk: Norton , 1992), 177.
The p roblem with this formul ation stem s from the external opposition
that Lacan posits betwce n law and en joyment, as if onc could not enjoy
one's obedience. By 1972, Lacan himself senses the problem with this for
mulation of law ami enjoyment, which prompts him to begin his Seminar
XX with a self-critiquc focused on Seminal' VIl, a work that he subse
quently /inds rife with "stupidity."
5 In Stminar XX, Lacan conceives ofthe superego in terms ofthe command
to enjoyo He says, "Nothing forces anyone to enjoy excc pt the superego .
The superego is the imperative of jouissance--Enjoy!" Jacques Lacan,
Th e Seminar o/Jacques Lacan, Rook XX: Encore, 1972- 1973, transo Bruce
Fink (New York: N o rton, 1998),3.
6. William E . Hollada y and Stephen Wa tt conte nd tha t " Lynch not only
thw:lrt, Tn:ves '~ dcsire to view M errick bUl a Iso (I cl ay~ satisfying the audi
;nu' \ , illlil.,r 'lIriosilY. The film Ihu' prfllTl ises \'ay special gaze and
:1
rh"JI willd'lild ,.I,dl, lImenr ofthe pro mi.,!: . piqlli ng vi'-'we rs' intcres t in the
Nons 733
 spectacle" (William E . Holladay and Stephen \Vatt, "V iew ing rh e El ephant
Man," PAiLA l04119H9}: 874)' This statcme nt does not go fa r e nough in its
gr:.lsp of Lynch's strategy. Lynch does nor delay th e introduction of Mer
rick's body in ord e r simply ro enhance our inte rest in seein g it; he uses rhe
frlm's form to conSlruct this body JS an impossible object that we cannot
see. When we do later see it repeatc::dly, it is no longe r the body.
7. Jcques Lacan, The Fou/' Fundamenta l Concept.' of Psycho-Analysis, trans o
Alan Sh eridan (Ncw York: Nonon, 1978), 182.
8. The ini,tial encounter with M e rrick's body is an e ncoUnter w irh!he g aze in
Lacan's striet sense of the termo The ga zc, fo r Lacan, is not th e all -seeing
look of a subjeet that masters or controls all that it secs, as the infamous
"male ga ze" has becn tnought to do. Insteau, the gaze indicates th e view
ing subj ect's failure of master)', the mom e nt at which the subject encoun
ters an object in he visual freid that testifi es ro the subject's involvem e nt in
that fi eld through hc[/ hi s desire. Encountering the gaze, rhe subject ccases
ro ha ve a sense of safe distance from whar sheihe sees and the se nse of in
vulnerability that comes from distanc IO.
9. The two wa ys that lerrick appears in the film-as in J ccessible objecr and
as oruinary object assimilated into the visual ficld - suggcst t ha t he d nes
not function as a figure of th e sublime, rhough this is w ha l we m ig ht c x
pect g iven his extre me disfi g uren,ent. For Lynch, unlik e a sublim e figur e ,
M e rrick does not ,halter the field of rep resenta ri o n. To put ir in Lacan's
rerm s, he is not das Ding, the Thing emhod ying th e ultima re en joym ent.
The sublim e Thi ng is an ioescapable presence in !he visual field , w h erea s
th e obj et petit a is a cons tiruti ve absence that cannor be reduced LO th e vlsual
fi eld without bccoming an ordin ary object.. F o r a contrasting readin g nf
Merrick as th e sublime Thi ng , , ee Slavo j Z ize k , E7JjOY Your Symptom !
Jacques Lacan in H ollywood and 0 /1/ (New Yo rk: Ro utl edge, [99 2 ) .
l a. H olladay and Wa tt, "Viewing the Ele phan t Ma n ," tl75
1 I. Fo r Ma rth a Nochimsom, th e fi lm is simply a cond e mn ati o n of this fantas y
for the d estructivt: <::frect th at it has on "Me rric k 's tenuous grasp on reality"
(Nochimso n, Pa,.,-iol1 ofDavid Lynch, 143)' All the characte rs who co n t rih
ute to this fa ntasy are, in N och imson 's vie w, jusl as guilt y as Bytes himself
for e xploiting an d using Merrick. M errick falls victim to the se characters
and the fantas y th ey purve y beca use he suffe rs from fals e conscio usness. As
Nochimson d esc ribes it, "suffocated by swe etness, Me rrick does not even
know enough abollt th is form o f abuse to protest it" ( Pass/oll of David
LYllch, 143)' The problem w ith rhis st;n,brd 1':11,,, c(\nscio usncss thesis is
thar it fails ro ack nowlcdge the ro'" that rllll,l ~y pl i l y~ ill ~lrucruring o ur
very scnse ofreali ty. F antasy " "es 111)1 "> lI l1 plv 1111'1 11 \1111\ Iv IUlJsc n p u r g rip
on realiry lh rllugh irs indun:lIl1'lIt' 1" " 111 "\ IH II 11 "llId l l' ,r ( ; l tl' ()lIrSe n~c
23' N O I rs
of reali ty in th e Ursl place . A.:; a result, \Ve Glnnot cri ticize the falseness of
fanta sy as if the re were a tme re:t lity ll nadorn ecl by il.
12. Ir is nor enough ro say that no on e has apure relation to Me rrick, rhat
cve ryone-both within th e film and viewing it - feels at once kindly and
ab usivel y roward him . Pe rhaps every spee tator wOllld readi ly admit this
compromise position . But the specula tiv e id entity of K e ndal and he night
porter- of Treves ,lIld Bytes -m ea ns that one mus t see th e fund l mental
lin k between the nobl est attitud e towa rd Merrick and the basest. One must
sce lhe base wir hin the no ble and vice ve rsa rarh e r than seei ng them as in
di srin ct.ly m eklin g into eaeh othcr. In short, one must see on eself in ever y
evil that one condemns.
13. In the Phel7omen% gy of Spirit, H egel call s the compassi ona te subject the
bea uri ful soul. Acco rd ing to H egel, what rhe bea utiful so ul fa ils to recog
ni ze abollt itself is that it belongs lO rhe vicious world th at it eooJ emns.
Therc is no conde mnati o n that comes e ntirel y from th e outside. Th e beau
ti fu l soul d oes act, tho ug h its ac ti oll takes t he form of l-light. Hegel cl a im s,
"It li ves in dread orbe.~ mirc hing the sp lendour of its inne r being by acti o n
an d an existe nce; a nd, in arder ro prese rve Lhe pu r ity 01' es hea rt, it Aees
from contact with the actua l wo rl d .' G. W. F Hegel, The PhetlOmen%gy of
Spirit , transo A. V. M iller (O xfo rd: O xford ur, 1977),40.
14 aeq ues Lacall, "Le Smina irc XIV: La logicue cl u fanta sme, 1966- 1. 967,"
un pu blished ma nu seript, sessi on of a nu a ry 1 1 , .1967 (m)' translati on ).
15. T/u: Elephant Man s hows u s th a l both castrG ti on an d the fantasrn.lric reso
lutio n of ir re q u ire so me fo rm of sacrifice . We turn to fan tas)' thinking that
it provides a way of t' luding a necessa ry sacriFi cc, bu r rhe n its logic lead s us
ineluctably towa rd ano t he r sacrifiee- the sacrifice of all pathologi cal con
cerns for the sa ke of our enjoymc n t.
16. ames R. Kelle r, " 'Like t.o a C h.lOs' : Deformiry a nd De p ravity in C onte m
pora ry Film," / aun/aLofPopular Film and Television 23 1 (1995): 9.
[7. U ne can cas ily irn;lg ine a F o uea u ltian cri tique of lhe Film th a l attacks the
reduction of Mc rri ck '~ diffC re nee to the te rr8in of tbe normal. Lynch cre
ates an imagc o f normal subj ectivity from which no one ese8 pcs. While
this is und o ubtedl y t he case, the fundamental (HegeJi<ln) conte ntion ofthe
fi lm is thal th e re is, in th e last instance, no diffe rence hetwee n identity an d
d iffe rence. Thus, insisting on differe nce is a disguised way of insisting on
identity.
r R. In Th e E lephant Man ,lfld dsewhe re. Lynch shows hims elf to be one of the
great a nt i- Delcu zca n fil mrnak ers. D e lcLi zc in veighs ag ainst the rcduction
DI' dil 'i'LTcn,," 1(> S3me ness ano agai nst rhe: ;tre m pt to see :\11 underlying
idc nt it y ill fifl ncnce . A s he dc,cr i bt' ~ h is prll j(' cl, "We pro pose ro think
ditli p lh'L' I, i l""lllI ldependen ll y Ilr rl l c I~1I11l,.d (I'I' r"sclllali on w b ich re-
NOHS 13~
 duce it to the Same. " Gil1es Deleuzc, Difference cmd Re-petitioll, tran.s. Paul
Patton (Ne w Yo rk: Columbia UP, 1994), xix.
3. Dune ond the Poth to So lvotion
1. The une voice w ho clearly brea ks frum the preva ilin g critical view of Dun c
is Slavoj Zizek , who, in a sur vc y conducted b y Sight and Saund, place s the
film- a mi no other Lynch film--on his top ten li st of rhe greatest achi eve
ments in th e histo ry of cin e ma. Thoug h many of lhe 253 eriLies, theorists,
and filmmakers pol1ed list Lynch films , no one cisc includ es Dunc among
the best ten films eve r made.
2. Erica Shee n, "Going into Strange vVorl ds : Da vid Lynch, Dune, and N ew
Hollywood," in Erica Sheen and Annen e Davisun, eds., The Cinema af
David Lynch: Americall Dreams, Nightmare Visions (Londo n: Wallflow er,
2004)>35.
3. Sheen , "Going into Stran ge World s," 36.
4. Chris Rodley, ed, L ynch on Lynch (London: Fabe r and Faber, 1997), 119
5. David Bordwell, Nanatian in ,he Fictioll Film (Madison: U of Wiscon sin P,
1985), 157
6. For L am n , th e sex ual antagonisOl (wh ich has nothing to do wirh bi ology)
is the prim a ry socia l a ntagonism becausc il rnanifesls the twO opposed,
though noncomp\c;:m entary, modes of e nte ring into lan gu age . Onc comes
into langu age e im e r as aman or as a woma n, a no onc:'s sexed being attests
to one's lack of comple ten ess. B llt rhese tw o lac king be ngs ca nn o r come
rogether to form a harm o n io u~ one. AlI other soci al antago n.isms
c1ass, race, etc.-fo llow fro m this fund am ental di sjun cti o n betwcc n the
sexes.
7. Typicalty, tbe c1assica l Ho ll ywood narrati ve focu ses on particular instances
of the sexual and socia l ant~l goni s m s rathe r than o n these an tagoni sms as
such . But in th e ac t of show ing the possi bil ity of ove rcom ing particular in
stances of them, the narr at ives imply th ar antagonism-a constitutive split
ofthe socia l o rd er- is nothing but a problern to be addresscd within this
order, Ilot a divi sio n th at un d ermines its very co he re nce. T his is tb e pri
mary ideol ogical function of H oll ywood cinema. F o r instance, filrns often
emphasize how c1ass antagon ism ca n be ove rcom e through a rel ationship
bet\Vecn people from opposed c1 ass es, as we see in lhe conclusinn of a film
lik e F ra nk Capra'~ Jt Happened Olle N ight ( 1914)
8. Cha ni 's status in the film, in contrast to he r ~ tal llS in P r:tnk Hcr bcrt's novel,
und e rlin es L ynch's com m itmcnt ro th e , Ias ~ i( al I IClll ywllod narrnt ive p:11
tc rn in DUl1e. In th e novel . C haJli i ~; CClIII " Iu n, IIlId 1',11.1 n "l rril'~ P r incl'~~
[rula n rathe r rh:tn he r. By di lllin,IIIII '. \ ' "ti 1,111 1"" ,,11 11 ' w il h l rlll ,lll,
136 MO TI '
Lynch transfo rm s the tri nnp,ll l." I lI m a ll Ce o f lhe novel for th e stand ard
H oll ywood coupl ing :In<l ClIIII.I II ~ltng hete rosexual un io n. Rather than
view this aS:1compromisc 1111 l.) IId part, \Ve should sce how he uses it to
em ph asi ze the o vc rcrll lli ll ~ "," :1I11 agon ism.
9. The stabili 7.ing effl.:c t nI" mil" vl)ice-ove r na rration beco m es clear wh e n
one " iews the th l.:<l lri c t! vc rsin n oC Ricl lcy Scott's Blade RU/wer (1982)
alongsid e th e dircclOr\ nll. S<.:QtL rcmoves me vo ice -ove r narration in the
directo r\ cut prec isd y in trd c r to und er m in e m e stabl e position of th e
spectator th a r rhe l \t eal ri ca l vcrs io n su ppo rts.
10. O ne migh t a rgu c l hat Ly ncl subvcrsion of th e m aste ry typica ll y associ
ated with voicc-ovcr na rrarian has ti es to cin ema 's histo rically patriarchal
attitude tow<l rd lite f'c rnal e vOI ce. Accord ing to this readin g, Lynch und e r
mines m e a utho ri ty o f the fc rn a le voicc-ove r ra Lher than the voice-O\'e r as
such. But the p robll:rn w ith this purpo rtcd ly fem i.nist critigue is its own
(patrinrchal) in vcstme nt in the illusory a uthority of the voice-over. The
sta bility tilat the voice-over p rov ides for the speclato r is always false: it ob
scures the gaps lhat ha u nt eve ry narra ti vc struclure a nd thus w o rk s to
dupe the s pcc tato r coDce rning the truth ofthe na rrati ve . The ev iclent ga ps
in 1rul an's voice-over tes fy abo\'e a1l LO its truthfulness.
r 1. Sla vo j Ziick , "The L a melb of D avid Ly oc h," in Ric hard F eldstcin , Bruce
Fi nk, a nd Maire Jaan us, eds., Reading Seminal" X I: Lacan s Four Fundamen
tal COllceptsofPsychoanaLysis (A lbany: State U ofNew York p. 1995), 209.
12. Michel Ch ion , David Lynch. transo Robe rt Ju li(ln (London : BFI. 1995),70.
13. Thc w cirdi ng m od ul e th at Pau l gives to th e F rem e n ro aid in lhcir revo lu
ti o n al so pa rta kes of the fillHasmatic collapse of interna l a nd extern a\. T he
wcapon uses th e so u lld created by a thought. As Pau l d escribes it, "Som e
lhoug hls have a cerrai n sound , tha l bcing equiv alent to a formo Through
so und and m otion , you w ill be a ble ro pa ra lyze ne rvc:s, shattcr bones, set
fir es, suffocate an enemy, o r burst his organs,"
14 When the E m pero r (Jos Fe rrc:r) de risi vely re fers to the Baron as a "flying
fat m a n," thi s indicates th a t others in the film find his Aying offe nsi ve, and
lhey do so beca usc it aclS as a public d is pla y ofhis private enjoyment.
15 The mos t te ll ing aspect of life of Giedi P r im e is th e existc nee of th e hea rt
plug. The heart plug, installed in eve ry citizcn of the Harkonne n society,
suggests the proxi mity betwee n in side and outside. With one tug, al! of a
suelde n th e ins id e of o ne's bod)' wi ll fush out.
16. O rd inar ily, u nli kc Ba ron Harko n ne n, we g uard ca refully the private sta
tus of our fan tasies so tha t no one else wi ll sce us enj oying. To become visi
ble in I he :le l of cn joying onesel f is to be,om e v ulne ra ble. Thi s is not a
p robln n 1"111 dll [laron, howeve r, \1.:; lISC cn jnymcn t prolife ra tes eve ry
w hL" 11" \11 tl TC I,lIl1 il~rnJlic worl cl or !JUIlt' .
Nons 23
17. The only place in Dune wherc prohibition seems lO cxist is on Caladan,
w here en joyment appears rdativdy contained within stable social relalions .
18. Jacques Lacan, Tile Seminal" ofjaeques Lacan, Book VJJ: The Fthics of Psy
choanalysis, 1959- 1960, transo Dennis Porter (Ne w York: Nnrton, 199 2),
71.
19. In Civilizu olI illld lts DC011lellts, Freud ties the occanic feeling ro fantasy:
h e c1aims, "we are perfccdy willing to acknowkdge rhat the 'ocea nic' feel
ing exists in many people, and we are inclined to tr ace it back to an eady
phase of ego-feeling." Sigmund Freud, Civilizaon and !ts Discolltellls
(193 0 ), trans oJames Strachey, in SE, vol. 21 (London: Hogarth Press, 1961 ),
72
20. Jacques L acan, TheSem inar uffacques Laaw, Book XX : Encore, /97 2 - 1 973,
t ra nso Eruce Fink (N e w York: Norton, 199 8),74,
21. This is why Lacan ide ntifies mysticism with feminine en joyment. Mysti
cism , like fcminine enjoyment, a llows subj ects to transcend th ei r own fi
nite subj ectivity and access rhe infinite directly. Lacan does not make this
comparison in orde r ro impugn mysticisrn, to bring ir down to the leve! of
feminin e enjoymc nt, but, on the contrary, to d eva te femini nc enjoymcnt
ro the le vd of mysticism- an au [hentic connection with the infinite.
4. Fantasizing the Father in Blue Velvet
1. Eetsy Berry, " F o rcve r, in My D ream s: G e nc ric Con ven tions and the Sub
ve rsi ve Im ag ination in Bit/e Ve/vet," Literature/Fi/m Quarterly 16.2 (19 8H ):
ib.
2. Laura Mul vcy, Feshm and Curiosity (London: EFI, 1996 ), 151.
3. Slavoj Z izek , Th e Art of the Ridicu/ous Sublime: On David Lynch 's "Lost
Highway" (S cattl e: U of Washing ton P, 2000),45
4. F o r Fred Pfcil, the ideali zed nature of the film's images (especially those in
the opc.n i ng seque nce) force the spectaror into a "recognition and admis
sion o f the obviolJ~ artifice" that accompanies th e "iewing expe ri e nce (Fred
Pfeil, "Homc F ires Burni ng: Family N o ir in B/ue Ve/vet a nd Terminat01'
2," in Joan Copjec, eJ., Shades ofNolr [New York : Ve rso, 1993], 237)' As a
result, one can recogn izc th e falsit)' of social con"cntion and eve n of o ne's
own desire. Th e film leads to the insi gh t that " what mosr of us consicler
our decpest and strongcst desires are not our own" (ibid ., 2.38). This read
ing of the film focuses on the deceptiv e dimen sion of fantasy (a.nd how
Rlue Ve/vet brings this dccepti on to light), but It ' Ivcr looks fan tasy's re"ela
tory powe r. Rath e r than exploring lh\: n 'vdall ' '' I'' l I.al I.lntt1~y pro"idc~ ,
Bltu: Ve/vet bccom es, ror Pre i!,;1 w arnilll: .tI""11 11 " " 11I~~f' The fi lm t hus
promores spcctatnr disraIl cL' ill~I l' . 1I1 co l 'U Il .II... 11 1 ,1
2~ ~ NO) f
5 C. K en neth P ellow, "/U(/(, l 'r'I N'1 ( hlfe Mo re," Litl!raturd Film Quarteriy
16.2 ( 1988): 173. Though (1..!l lIw\ IlI .ICk focuses on the film's n ar rative in
consisrencies, it is cIcar rr, '111 1"" C'~;y tha t rhe m oti vation for the attack lies
elsewhcre. Though 1... ( 1.Ii Ill\ L1td l u1is is not h is reason for disliking the
film, he oocs note, "Th, 1"111 ~ obscene, it does shock and disturb and re
volt almost any \.. i e \\' (~ r, .111.1 il d cs wan t to posit a view ofhumankind ,t hat
most ofhumankind ( k~ il c" lI) rep roba te" (ibid.).
6. Pellow, "BIt/e Vdll('( ( )II CL' M\I rc," ! 74.
7. Slavoj Zizek. "' 1 IIt'ar YIII I widl My Eyes'; Or, the In vis ible Master," in
Renata Salee! ;11111 S\;"" 'I i iil:k, ccls., Gaze and Voice as Luve Objects (Du r
ham: Duke UP, 1(JI)6) , 116 (Zizck's e mphasis).
8. D av id C r on e n ber~\ masl L: rful A HistolY ofViu /ence (2005) is very similar to
BIt/e Ve/vet in its SlrUClllre. lt d ep icts a fantasmaric small American town
and a violc nt und e rside rha t rhrearens its idyllic spacc. Bur Cronenbcrg's
aim is quite diffc nl l h; n Lynch's: rarhe r than showing th e parallcl be
tween the oream worl d a nd the oigh tma rish undcrsioe, he wants t.o rcvea l
how [he dream world rc lics o n the violence ofthc oightmare-specificJlly
the I'iolcnt <Lcts ofTom Surll (Viggo Mo rtensen)-in orde r to sustain itsclf.
9 Jan e M . Shattuc, "Postmodern M isogy ny in Blue Ve/vet," Genders 13 (1992) :
79. Adopting a slightl y di ffe re nt position, Lynne LaYlOn co nten ds that
Doroth y is th e key fig ure in t he film, but that on ao emotional leve! rhe
m e n ha ve th e p ri vileged position. S he says , "Tnc d ream at the ceoter of the
film is OI1C of total possession of the mother. But hc re, as e lsewh e re in ma le
popular cul LUre, th e emotional intensity of th e fi lm see rns less focused on
women, or on rh e relatio n ship betwee n wom en a nd rn en, t ha n on men and
their re lat ions w it h eac h othcr." Ly nn e L aytoo , Wh o's That Girl? Who's
Tlzat Boy?: C/inical Practice Mcets Postmodern Gender Thcory (N orthvale,
N.J.: Jason Aron son, 1998), 149.
While it is cer rainly true that t he men in the film el' ince more emotions
than Dorothy, it is n ot the case that their c motio ns are lhus the central fo
cus of th e film. D orothy is the character whose ce ntral a ffect-anxiety
perm ea tes among both the other characters and amo ng spectators. Doro
thy's anxicty is more powcrful than th e se ries of emotions that Jeffn:y and
Frank display, and it defines the film.
10. Fredric Jameso n, "Nostalgia for the Present," in Postmodemism; Or, the
Logic ofLate Capita/ism (Durham: Duke UP, 1Y9 1),294 J ameson cr iticizes
th e film for rs depiction of the American small town as a bulwark under
siege fr om a t hrea tc ned narure. The problem, for j am eso n, is not so much
that L ynch belicvcs in th e idea l of rhe srnall ro w n but rhat he cannot suc
cessflllly il11a g inc an olltside. Thc ,ml y oursid c i ~ the blind horror of
11:1 11 IIl'
Nnll f. '39
[[. Though the Law of the Father, fur Lacan , pro vides lhe prohibition that
inaugura tes he suhj ect's des ire, we should not con fu se Tom Beaumont
with this strucrural function. i\ny actual father w h o atte mpts ro tak e up
h position ofrhe Law o frhe Father will fal! shorL, but Ly nch's film gives
no indica ti on thar Jeffrey 's father even tries.
12. D av id Lynch, Ly17Ch on Lynch, ed. Chris Rud1cy (London: F abee a nd Faber,
1977), T3 .
13. Janet L. Presron, " D antean Image ry in Blue Velvet," L itemtul'e/Film Quar
terl)' 18.3 (1990): 169.
14. Lynch often lights hi s film s leaving spaces of Jark ness w ithin the image in
order ro convey rhe abse nce hat characterizes a wodd of desire. The tech
nique becomc:s most pronounccJ, as we 'lI sec, in Lost H ighUJ(Y (1997)
[5. Nlichel Chion, David Lynch, transo Roben Julian (London : BFI, 1995), 94
Chion adds rhat rh e fa ntasy here is nut confincJ ro rhe cha racte r of Jeffrey.
Even Frank Booch , seem ingl)' a character in Jeffrcy's fant asy, is cnactin g a
fantasy scenari ofor himscifin o rd er to make sensc of Doroth)" s cicsire.
[6. Berry, "Furever, in My Dreams," 84.
r 7. Sam Ishii-Go nza les, " Mysteries of L ove: Lynch's Blue VclvctlF reuJ's Wol f
Man," in Frica Shec n and Ann ene Davison, eds., The Cinema of f)avid
Lynch: American Dreams, Nightmal'e Visioll,; (London: \VaJlAowcr Press,
200 4),
52 .
18. Jacques-Alain Miller, "On Sembla nces in che Rclation Between th Scxcs,"
in Renata Salccl, ed ., Sexuation (D urham: Duke UP, 2000), 22.
19. C hion, David Lynch, 94. My anal)'sis of Doroth)' and rhe film as a whole
owes a great debt ro C hion, w ho W3 S the fi rst ro see the imporra nce of Do r
othy 's desire for \-" hat occurs in th e film. Tr is difficult ro imagine a nothcr
intcrprere r of the fi lm cver surpassing the o riginalit)' of C hion's insighl!>.
20. C hion, Da vid Ly'flch, 95
21. Millcr,"On Sem bla nces in the ReIation Betwee n rh e Sexe~, " 17
22. Whcn L ind a Bundtzen claims rh at "Lync h has e rec ted a film rh al ulti
mately . privil eges the m ate rnal ove r the paternal" (Linda K . Bun d tzen,
"'Don't look at m e !': Woman's Body, Woman's Voice in B/ue Velvet ,"
Westem H umanities Review 42.3 r1998]: 201), she righ tly sees th at D o rothv
is the central figur e around whichBLue Velvet revo lves, but she too quickly
associates Dororh y with ma tern ity. Mate rn il)' is nor a position th at Doro
thy inhabits; it m ar ks fo r her, as th e iJea oF her as a mother clocs for othe r'
in the fil m . a rer rea t from the trauma of hu desir e ror nothing . T hat tite
role of m orh er is fantasmatic position DOfll l!t y ad" pts beeomes clcal'
when we reeog ni ze, as Marcia Sm ith Mar!.," I'''t lt ' 111' (, dut ~ h t; US C$
same words wi lh Fran.k- "Momllly I" v, " V'II' " 11 ,.11 ,1,1.: lI ~"S wir h hn
1-10 N OTES
son Donn y to calm hirn cl u wn, Scc Ma rcia Smilh Ma rzce, "flluc' Velvet as
Psyc homachi a," j oumal ()fEL'Oltlttonary Psychology 15.1-2 ( IY94) : 87-92.
23 T he popll larity uf Blue Ve/vel <Imong Lynch's fi lms stem s almost entirel)'
from rhe charilcre r of F I':t nk Booth. Devotecs ofthc film quote hi s lines-
"Heineken? Fuck th al shiLl Pabst S lue Ribbo n !" or "Don't )'ou fuck ing
look at me!"-rathcr rha n rhose o fJ effre y or evcn Dorothy. This indicates,
as Hitch cock insists, tb ar t he vi lIain ma k cs the fi lm , but it alsu shows hat
Frank 's presence in [he fi lm provicies pleasure rather than fc:tr. Frank
plc:tscs LIS nOl Ieast of all beca use he offers us a humo rous rclicf from
D o ruthy.
24 Most fa n ras i ~s distan the obeet th roug h rh e age nc y of th e f~l thc r, w ho de
m ands tha t th.is object fil smoothl y within the famasy structurc. This is es
peeiaJly visible in the filrns ofSteven Spielbe rg. Injul'ussic PQ. /'k (J99.~) , for
in sra nec, the pate rn a] figu re A lan Grant (Sam Neill) domesticates th e
trauma of th e enco unrer wirh rh e dinosaurs-and their des ire-rhro ugh
his kn owleoge and courage. H e m akes th e enco unte r bearable an cl at times
pleas urable for rhe orher characters in the fi lm and rb e specra tor. As long
as the falher remains the central figure in the fant asy, the impossihle objec t
never appea rs in ts act u.,1 crauma tic fo rmo Bu t Bluc Vclvet shows us what
happens w hen the father is absen ano th e objecl appea rs. rn th is case, the
ernergence of rhe object creates a r ifl with in t11e fa n tasy and expo~es the
desi re of the subject.
25 Jaeq ues Lacan. The Four Funda mellfal Conc.epts of Psycho-Analysis, transo
A lan Sh eri dan (New Yo rk: No rte n , 1978), 105 (Lacan's ernph'lsis).
5 The Absence of Desire in WHd at Hearl
l. These are just a few of lhe allllsions rll at he film makes ro Th e Wiza rd of
Oz. Dav id H ughes co u nrs no fewe r th an thirree n. Scc David H ughes, The
CompLete Lynch (Lo nd on: Vi rg in, 2001), 146-47.
2. The stru crure of Wild al Heart is cIosest ro dlat of Dtme (1984): in both
fil ms, we vvi tness en jo)'me nt proliferating throughou the fi lmic wo rld .
But whereas Dune sbows a wo rld of desire menaced by proliFerati ng en
joymen t, this w orld exists in Wild at H eart onl )' as a present abse nce. This
allows the latte r fil m to se rve, in a wa y Dune does not, as a commenta r)' on
rhe conlemporar)' abund ance of irnages of e njo)'mcnL.
3 Jeff Johnson, Pervel't il/ the Pu/pit: MoraLlty in the WOl'ks ofDavid Lynch (Jef
ferso n, N.e. : MacFarland , 2004), 1 4.
th,' 4 Thc c Xct; ~s ive form ofWild ar H eort bc;lrs:l n lIl timatel)' misleaJ ing rese ll1
blancc.: 1, ( t har of Oli vc r Stonc's Nlltu/{/ / n llm Killc.:ri ( 1994). Thoug h horh
tl r Ji rs ~ .I I
 film s cri(icize the contcmporary prolifcration uf oren displays of enjoy
ment, they do so from opposi(e directions. For St(.me, the intrusiom of pri
vate enjoyment on puhlic space result from too much Ltl1tas y, too much
engagement w ith media representations; for Lynch . th e intrusion s s(em
from a failure ro commit fully to fantasy a nd ro follow m e logic of famasy
far enough. In this sense, any atternpt ro sec the two films as part of a simi
lar cinematic project would be inapt.
5. Mich;:el Dunne notices that excess charactcrizes the Ianguage in th e film as
well. Not only do the characters us e profanity excessivcly, hut they also of
ten spea k in ways that transcend th eir typical modes of speech . This type
of speec h, according ro Dunne, "serves ro signal its nature as lan guage
more than as an e1ement of chara((er" (Michael Dunn e, " Wld at Heart
Three Ways: Gifford, Lynch, and Bakhtin," Litaatu7'el Film Quarterly 23.1
[1995J: 10). A s a result, language itselfbecomes conspicuous as an excess.
6. Jana Evans Braziel, "'In Dreams ... ': Gender, Sexuality, and Violence in
the Cinema of David Lynch," in Erica Sh ee n and Annette Daviso n, eds.,
The Cinema ofDavid Lynch: American D'eams, Nightmare Visio1lJ (London:
W allAower, 2004), 114.
7. For a complete <l nalysis of th e importance of this scene, see Slavoj Zizek,
The Plague ofFantaes (N ew York : Ve rso, 1997), 185-1)9.
8. For a discussion of this change in th e status of authority, see Tod d Mc
Gowan , The End of Dis.~at j;lCtiO!1? jacques Lacan and the F;merging Societv
of F,lljoyment (Al hany : State U of New York P,2004)'
9. Michd Chion,David Lynch , tr anso Roben Juhan (London: BFI , 1995), 140.
10. K e nne lh C. Kaleta, David Lynch (New York: T way ne, 199j), 16C>.
22. It might seem as ir Jingle Dell is one cha racter in the film who in sists fully
11. Martha P. Nochimson, Th e Pass/O/l ofDavid L ynch : Wild at Heart in Holly
wood (Austin: U ofTexas P, 1997),55.
12. Sharon Willis, High Contrast: Race and GC11der in Contemporary Hollywood
Film (Durham: Duke UP, 1997), 143.
13. Anne tte Davison, '''Up in F lames ': Love, Control, and Collaboration in
the Soundtrack ro Wild at H eart ," in Sheen a nd Daviso n, eds., The Cinema
ofDavidLyn ch,12!.
14. Davison, '''Up in Flamcs,'" 12 1.
15. Sharon Willis sees this SCClle as the ultimale instance of Lynch 's racist anJ
sexist filmic visiono She Iaments th at because "a white man is for ced ro kili
the black male agent of'Mama 's' murderolls sexuallust ... th e brutal mur
der of a black man hy a white man is surre ptitiollsly charged to th e white
woman's account" (Willis, High Contrast, 118; Wi llis's ~mr h a~ i s ). T wo as
pects ofthe scene botrre r Willis mosr: thal I ,n 11011 l' dl l ' u nl y bbck cha rac
te r and that Mari ett 's look control s ho,h l ,t ll l;" 1 11111 tI ,r \(t o<.: itsd L 111
her analysis, \Villis necessaril y "imilli ..l" \ d I( 111'1 ,,"1 ,' 1 1 ~r .,1S; ,il"l \, .. vcr
242 NOTE S
reaction (the brutality of th e murd c r) ::md his subsequent posing (and look
ing at Marietta). Th ese actions indicate: the extent ro which Sailor is acting
o ut hi s pri va te drama. It is fr o m thi s perspective that Lemon is especially
(hrea tcning as a black man a nd thar J\-la ri n ta controls everything.
16. D~\vid Lynch, Lynch on Lynch , cd. C hris Rodley (London: F a ber and Faber,
1977), 194
l7 . Lynch. Lynch on Lynch, 205 .
18 . Both Sailor and Lula are instructi \lc fo r what they indicate about the ap
pearance oflawlcssness an d fr eedom. Ir is always te mpting to sce a hsolute
frcedom in th e Wan ton violence of th e cri minal or th e open sex uality of the
libe rtin e, hut one m ust inte rpret these g ui ses. Thc examples of S ~l ilor and
Lula sho w how the appca ran ce of freedom is not eq ual to frecdom but ro
its opposite. Because th e subj ect has to cx prcss itself through ,( he signifier,
it can not simply be identical to itself. T he signifier transform s appea rances
ineo their oppositcs, so that necessity appears as frecdom and fr ccdom ap
pea rs as neCl:ssi ty. The subj cct becom es freest at th c point wherc it recog
nizes m e extent to w hich it is caught wilhin the web of ne,cssity.
19. Joa n Co pjec, Imagine Th ere's No Woman: F,thlcs and Sublimao/1 (Cam
hri dge: MTT Prcss, 2002), 167 (Co pjec's em pha sis).
20. Jaequ es Lacan. L e Sm llla ire, livre V' Les Formations de l'inCOllsent, 1957
1958, ed. Jacques-A lain Mjll e r (P;lri.s: Seu il, [998),286 (m y translation).
21. Wild
at H eart has maoy more tan ge ntial Illoments th an th e typical Lynch
film , bur in each ca se rh ese mo m ents, thou g h tange ntial to the narrati vc, ot
wi lh in the fi lm the m aticall y. rn fact, th e lack of narrati ve cohe re nce in a
wo rld filled w ith pu bli c displ a ys of enjoyment is (he film's central idea.
on hi s fanta sy eve n to m e point w here it no longer provid es pleas ur e. But
Jin gle Dell's image of C h ri stmas lasting all yea r is not yct fantasy proper.
Fantasy produces enj oyme nt by narra ting the loss of th e impossible object
and promising access to it, but its st ruc ture is predicated on the initialloss
of th e object. This is what Jin gle Dell refuses, and (his refu sa l never allows
the space fo r f:lO tasy ro d evelop. It is in this sense that he is the represcnta
ti ve fig ure in the film . T he subsequcnt development of a perversion is a re
spo nse ro a failure ro enjoy, no( an indica tion of a commitment to fantasy.
23. Lyneh, Lynch on Lynch, 198.
24, H ughes, Th e Complete David Lynch , 142.
25. Of course, nO one would say errat all th e threats in the conlemporary world
are (he result of a paranoid attitu de ehat pcrcei ves thrcats everywh e re.
Th e re are rea l th rea ts. But fo r thc Gub ject w ho is "truly wild at heart" or
full y ,'fl ll ilnincJ to its fantasy, lhese , h rt";Lls n :as(; lO matte r and ccase to be
uh i<l "i"II'
on s 2~ '
26. Jaeques Lacan, Le Sminaire, livre XV!!: L 'Ell va.< de la psychallaly.<e, ed.
J;:cques-Alain rv!illcr (P;: ris: Seuil, 1991),89 (m y tr;: ns lation).
6. Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me and Identificatio n with the Object
1. Beeause the sho\V fea tu red Laura and her m urde r as its st ructuring ab
senee, th e netwo rk 's demand that Lyneh and eoerea tor M ark Fros t pro
vide a soIutin lO Laura's death mid way through the second sea son effec
tivdy killed the show, aceording to Lyneh himself.
2. Miehcl Chion,David Lynch, trans oRoben Juli;:n (London: BFI, I99'5), 155.
3. Chion, David Lynch , 156.
4- One should resist th e idea that the many roles Laura occupies tesrify to
Lyneh's statu s as an ronic ar postm ode rn filmm a ker who se es identity as
variable and construeted. The point is not rh;lt La ur a's ide ntity is multiple
but th at none of th ese rol es capture her. Her identity eannot find adequate
expression beca us e th ere is norhing to express.
5. Surcly one of the main rcaso ns for the popular failur e of the: film rcsts in
the way that th e fi lm trca ts fans of the series. By sustaining L:lU ra as an ab
senee, the se ries enco urages viewe rs to fantasize without restraint abollt
Laura , bur the fi lm explodes these famasies by eo nfron ti ng viewe rs with
rb e p rescnee of th e famasy, forcing viewers to abandon thcir fo rm er ideas
about Laura. Tbe trauma for vie we rs is sometning a kin to that whieh ac
companies seeing radio personalities for the first time afte r a fetime of
just hearing their voiees.
6. W hereas L ync. h's oth er films confm nt the spectato r with rhe speeulati ve
identity of th e soci al reality with its fantas maric altern ative, Fire Walk w ith
Me depicts speeulative id entiry w ithin fanta sy itsd f, sh owing how the dit'-
ferenc e between our ideal fan tasies an d our nightrn a re fa ntas ies conceals
an und erlying ide ntity. By ding so, the film forces th e spectator lO expe ri
enee the b ck of an alternati ve w ithin the fantasmatic alternati ve.
7. On e famous exa mple is Jonathan De:mme's Silence ofthe Lam bs (1991), in
whieh the discovery of each victim of th e serial killer BufLdo Bil! is aeeOffi
panied by a eaption iden tifying rh e [ocation.
8. D avid Hug hes, T he Complete Lyllch (Lndon: Virgin, 200 1), 166.
9. Cate Racek , " Lacking La nguage in David Ly ueh's Twin Peaks: Fire WaLk
lUith M e" (unpublished paper).
10. Jaeques Lacan , Thc! SeminarofJacques L acaTl , Book X X: Encore, 1972- 1973,
transo Bruce Fink (New York: N o rton, l(}gR), 2.1.
11. Jeff Johnson , Pervert in the Pulpit: .Morality i ll ti/( flfjr/I (~r/),/IIid Lynch (J ef
ferson, N .C .: MaeFarland, 20()"). 117
12. Chion, Dat1id LYllch, 1'52.
2H NO TI:~
13. Jaeques Lacan , "The Sigl1itication of rhe Pballu s," in Eerits: The First Com
plete Edition in English, tra nso Bruce F ink (New Yo rk : N o rton, 2006), 581.
For Laca n, th e phallus is not a body pa rt, not the penis, but a sig nifier. But it
is not just any signifier: it occupies an exceptional positic)n among all
signifiers-a position outsidc the signifYlOg field whcre mcaning derives
frm how ~ ach signifier relates ro all other signifie rs. As a signi ncr o fexcep
tion, the phallus clocs not depe nd on its relatio n lO any other significr, but
this mea ns that it is a meaningless signifie r, a sig niher-wi thout-signifi ed
that signifies nn ly itsd f. T hus, if one reproaehes Lacan for his phalloeen
tri sm (fo r retaining the phallie sign ifie r at the eenter ("l f th e sy mbo!ie order),
one m ust at the same time reeal! rhat th e phall us sta nd s out, according to
Laca n's vision o fthings, for ts stupidiry and for its impotence.
14. When M rs. Tremo ncl's son ap pea rs afte r Lcla nd Aees from the motel
where he sees Laura, we see him Ilot onl y weil rin g m e pha.llie mask but
also jumping repeatedly as he walks in eireles, mimicking the nonse nsieal
anel exeess ive acti vi ty m at che phaUu s u ses lO disgu ise its impotence.
1'5. Dian e H um e G eorge, "Lynching W om l: n: A F eminisr Reading of Twin
Peakj," in D a vid Lave ry. ed. , Fu ll ofSecrets: Cr ica Approaches to "Twill
Peak"''' (De tr oit: W ay ne Sra te UP, 1995), [[ 7-18.
1 6. Even if one insi sts (l n the su pernatura l sra tus of BOB, rhis in no way ren
ders Leland free from all gu ilt. T hroug h lhe ehara cter of Laura (w ho
neve r allow$ BO B to in habit he r compl etely), the fi lm ma k es ir clear that
human sub jects huye the ca paci ry to resist BO B.
17. Fanr.asy does not just prov ide a signi fied for no nsc nsiea l te rm s li ke "gar
m onho z ia. " O ne mighl say th at the signi fi ed itsel f is fan rasrnatic. T hough
we tend to identify sig nitlers wirh a speeitic signi fied, rhey ac tuall y aeq uire
th eir sig nifiGl tion through their in te rac tloll with oth cr signi fie rs- th roug h
a system of differenee. T he fa ntasy of rh e sig ni fi ed allows LIS to treat eon
ceprs a.nd rhi ngs as inde pe nde nt of the entire system rhat constirutes thern.
18. Jaeques Laean, T he Fuur Fundamental COllcepts of Psycho -Anal)lsis, transo
Alan Sherid an (New Yor k: N o rton, 1978).
19. Laean, Four Fun damellla l Concepts, 20'5 .
20. Sl av o j Z ize k , T he Indivisible Remaillder: ,1n Rssay 011 Schelling cm d ReLatcd
Matters (New York : Ve rso, 1996), 157 Clize k 's emphas is).
2 L Z iz ek, Indivisible Rema jnder, 158.
22. Se rge Andr':., What Does a Woman Want?, transo Susa n Fairheld (New
York : The O the r Press. (999), 248 (Andr's emphas is,.
23. And r, What DoeJ a Wnman Want?, 248.
24. C hio n. Dat'id Lynch. 15 2 .
25. 11 ~cc r", Ildd 10 s:ly th:'ll La u ra vicws n OIl O; , aS '1 non -Iacking O the r \-vhen
1.;1 111.1 .d." d \lI,i ~sc s Donoa ", s 1I11 , r1 y II. I" VC g il! 1!1i" ~( Iwo attiludes ;1fI;
Nons 2.
 not at all co nlrad ictor)' : fo r Laura , Donna can alloi laek Lh roug h he r in
nocence, a n innoce nce that would attest to the f8 ct that she is llot yet sub
ject to castration.
26. Lau ra Plumme r, .. 'I'm 110t Laura Palm e r': D avid Ly nch's FractLlred F ai ry
Tale," Literature/Film Quarterly 2) 4 (1997): 309.
7 Fi nding O urselves on a Lost Hig hway
,. A nno..: Je rslcv, "Beyo nd Boundari es: David L ync h's Los! Hig/way," in E ri ca
Sheen and An nelle Davison , cds ., The Cinema of Da/lid Lynch : America n
Dreams, Nightmare Visiolls (London: Wall Ao wer. 2004), '55 .
2. D avi d Foster Wallace, in his discussion of Lost Highway, consid ers this
poss ibility: "th e mo vie 's plo t could ... simply be inco herent a nd make no
r:ltional sensc and no t be conventionally inte rpre table ar all" (Dav id Foster
W allace, A Supposedly FUIl Thillg nI Neva Do Again: rssays and Rumina
jon... (New York: Littl e, Brown, 1997], 160 ). According ro Wallace, this is
not necelisa rily a problem with the film. As he says, "Lyn ch seerns ro run
in w Lro ublc o nl y whe n his movies seem to the viewe r to want to have a
poi nt-i.e., when th ey set the viewer up to ex pect so m e kind of co he re nt
co n nection between plor eIemenrs- a nd the n fail ro de li ve r a ny sueh
point" (ibid ., J61; W a lI ace'~ emphasis).
3 Th e nega tiv e critica l response ro L oot H ighway necessi ta ted w hat wilI
probably be re me mbered as one of th e strangesr ad vcrtis ing cam pa ig n s in
the hi sro ry o f fi lm adve rtising . P romotc rs of th c film used negali/le CO I11
m en ts fro m pop ubr c rities ("two thumbs clow n ") in thcif a v~' rt i sem e n ~,
in an effo rt ro u'a mform th e fil m 's lack of aeeep tanee amo ng po pu la r cri c
ics inro a reason for seeing ir. T he fa et th at such ad ve rt iscmcnts appea red
onl y a m On(h after Lo._t H ighway opened suggests that they we re not p<1rt
of a preeonceived advertising stra tegy, bur a respo nse to a lu kewa rm a nd
cven hostile crirical- a nd popular- reception.
4 Lync h's use of two acto rs play ing th e sam e role work s to diffcre nt e nds
than Buuel's in That Obo"Cure ObJect ofDes/re (1977). By having d iffere n(
aC lresscs play ing the s:l me character, Buuel ernph as izcs rhe ul timately in
effable guali ry of th e object of d esire, our inabili ty ro g ras p it dc fi nitivcly,
rather than a sharp distin etion be twee n desire and f~lI1ta sy .
5 The obvio Ll s questi on here is "if Peter D ayran is comtru creu as
Fred Madison's fant;: sy, th en w hy can everyo ne e b e see hirn ?" T he elL,y
a nswer would be thar w hat follow s sil11ply (J("cllrs ",i,hill F rcd's fantas y
un til th e seco nd transfo rm ario ll ne;: r rh e <" lid ,,1 11.,. Idlll SlIdl:ln ;Jn swcr
misses ,I think .Lynch 's insi g ht hece . 1..,, 11,11 r i\l. 1 " ,1 .I.III I'''Y ;I ~Ct.'ll1i ll g
fealiL)' in th e film ro c l11 p";"i zc 111l' "\Illt l 1" \\ Illill .. \11 '. \' '1', LlV
'."" NOHS
realit)' is m o lded by fant;Jsy. r, ('ven ~h;lpCS the way one sees one's own
body-and he nce the way in w hi ch [hat bod y is presen ted ro and pe rceived
by othe rs. This is w hy the other charactc rs in the film see a different pc rson
w hc n F re d e nters into his own fantasy.
6. Jaegues Lacan, "Kant witb Sad e," in C11tS: The Fint Com plete J:dition in
Ellglish, transo Bruce Fink (N ew York: Nortan , 2(06), 652- 53.
7. Ma rtha P. N ochimson, The Passioll ofDavid Lync/: Wild af Heart il1 Holly
wood (Austin: U ofTexas P, 1997), 29 (Noe himson 's emph as is).
8. This is wh y g iving in ro th e supercgo is a lways a no- w in siru<1tion. The
more you gi ve, the more it wan ts. The supe rego is, in this sense, insatiable:
no sacrifice of d esire is ever enough ro que nch irs thirst. One can see th is
dynarni c of the supe rego is someone like Jo nathan Edwa rd s, w ho n ever
ceases ll pb raidin g himself for the d epths of his sinfuln ess, eve n though ro
rhe ollts ide observe r he is an exe rn pLa r of virtue an d pi ety. This is not ust
a rh etori cal Aourish on his parto Edw;:rds does fed more sin fui than th e
ave rage person in sofar as he has g iven in ro th e supe rego more than the av
e rage pe rso no
9. Sl avoj Z izek, The Metastases ofEnjoyment: Six Essays 0 11 Woman and Causa/
ity (New Yo rk: Verso, 1994),68 .
10. This is w h y Lacan insis ts rhar " la w a nd re pressed des irc <l re one a nd the
sa me thin g " (L aca n, "Kan t wi th Sade," 660).
1 '. I t is only at m e e nd oE rhe fi lm char th e association betwcc-n th e Myste ry M an
an d the videotapcs bcco mes com pletel y el ea r: w e see him armed w ith a vid
eo carnera. Howcve r, me scene a t An d y's party, in w bich he Mystery M<1n
shows F red thar he is inside Fred 's house, gives us our fi rst c1 ue ohhe link.
12. T he na m e "Myste ry M an" -a na m e given o nl y in m e c redits, not w rhin
th e film irsel f- is ccrtainly an appropriate nam t' fo r Lhc superego. It is
m ysterious because its prohibitons a re excessivc and irra tio nal , and can
ncve r be made ro make sc nse. Somethin g aboLlt th e supcrcgo a lways re
m ains irreducibl e ro mean ing. This kern el irreucible to mea ning is the
enj oy m ent that it reccves from the re nun ciarion of desire rhat it com
ma nds in th e subject.
'3. Sig mun d F re ud, NCt/I Introductory Lectures Psycho -Analysis (1933 ),
011
trans oJa mes Strac hey, in SE, vo l. 22 (London: Hogarrh Press, 1964),62.
14. Freud , N ew Introductory Lectures, 62. Freud , Iik e Ly neh in Losr Hight/lay ,
J pa rt of gives this intern al izati o n a te mporal dim e nsio n rh at it d oesn 't ha ve to
ma ke it clea.r stru cturally. As soon as one ente rS into the soc ial order and
encounters t he law as an "external resttaint," the re is al ways a iread)' an in
te ro a lizcd counte rpa rt ro mis c"-tc rnal Law, the supe rego.
[5. W hirh i~ not ro say th a t me l!fec ti ng of the su pe rego could some how be
\\: 11' " ul" av"id, " I1 i~ the neeessary arco m pa ni rn e nt " f 11m entrance imo the d o-
NorES 241
 main of the social order ami the symholic law. Howeve r, in Lost Highway,
the supcrego seems av oidablc beca use \Ve can sce its introjectian as part of
a pracess, rather than as something that has alwa y~ alread y occurred .
J6. Jaeques Lacan, The Four Fundamental C071ccpt:; of Psycho-Analys, trJns.
Alan Sheridan (New York: Nortun, 1978),275-76.
17. By quiekly pJssing aYer the trial and sentcneing, Lynch makes clear that the
stFength uf the external powers-that-be pale in comparison with the intra
psychical voice of autharity. Unlikeex ternal authorities, the superego never
allows the subjeo a moment of respite, no time when it relaxes its power.
IS. Tim Lucas, "Kiss Me Doubly: Notes on David L)'nch's Lost Highway,"
Video Watchdog 43 (1998): 31.
J9. Reni Celeste, "Lost Highway: Unveiling Cinema's Yellow Brick Roao,"
Cineaction 43 (Summer 1(97): 34
20. Though one might rcad (incorreetly, I think) Lost Highway as a critique uf
the turn to [antasy, it is certainly not a panegyric to "reality." Given the
film's grasp of the fantasmatie hasis of reality, this would be incungruous.
This is the imprcssion, howev e r, that Marina Warner has uf the film:
"Lynch ... certainly mounts an attack on fiLm narrative's mcndacity, show
ing oeep alarm at its hallucinatory powe rs of creating alternative realitiD
Simultaneously, it Jlsu calls into question film 's ca pJcities to document an.!
record: eve rything filmeJ is hbrication , but that fabrication has the tli,
turbing powcr to supplant reality" (Marina Warner, "Voodoo Road," Si;!.1II
and Sound 7.8 IA ug ust 1997]: 10; my emphasis). W ha l W a rne r missc.:s h( rt
is that Lost HI~f5hwa)' is also a celehration of th e way in w h ich film ~1I1'
plants realit)! bccause in doing so, as an cffect of this doubling, it provid, "
access to an othenvise ohscured real.
21. Though he is cl early an obscene, p rim;1 father, Mr, Eddy nonetheless hll"
tions;s a symbolic ;uthority in th e film, echoing the rol e rhat Frank 111111111
plays i,n mue Velvet (1986). Thcrc is a mllltituJe of other ev idence to slIgW ', 1
this: for instance, the scene in which he runs a 1T10torist offthe fOad rOl 1.11 1
gating and then proceed s to lect u re h im on the dange r o f not m;intaiJ\II I}~ .1
proper distance between C<1. rs. Afte r lecturing (and bea ting) the ma ll . ~ It
Eddy demands, "Tell me yOll're going ro get; manual." Though d c; " ~ .'"
llnderworld figure, Mr. Eddy functions here lik e a symbolic :lurb"III \,
extreme version of the police. The behavior of th e actual p"lice in !l it Id l"
further reveals Mr. Eddy's status as symboli c autbority. Th e polic(', ""'11,,
lvlr. Eddy, rarely display any of the charartcristi cs uf syrnholi, :11111 111111\
They are, instead, a parod y ofthal' allrhn ri l Y, A t IIne p,int, thr po ho f n.
confess their haplessness. \ Vh e ll 1W,)( k ' lt'C 1 i Vl'~ ( (1I11l' t o tll ~ M:ld i" '11 \ 1111111
t o investigate the appearallcc ., r th l I'lOh"l.q ll ok;io till A !lll' ill,idr ..1 111
home, they show them ,el vl'~ to 1... 111' 11',lhl , ,,1 I h ~, n v" lIll g .llI ytlll llj;
248 NOl'fS
they !c:lve, Free! thanks th ero (th ou gh they have n't done anything), and one
d etective responds, ." t's wh a t \Ve do." Clea rly, "what they Jo" is nothing
much, in contrast to Mr. Eddy, w ho cloes do th e only effective poliee work in
the film (when he gil'es his warning about tail ga ting). Thc faet that;n un
derworld figur e is the symbolic authoriry in Lost Highway is n-ot merely a
eontingent aspect of the film, but one re!:lted to the historieal situ;tion in
which it appears. \Vhen the film ;,ppears, symbolic authority h:ls gane un
derground, as the status of "Legi timate" symbolie authorities- the poliee,
political Jead c rs , etc.- h>ls e roded . L ost l-lighwa)l is the attempt to depict
ho\\' this mo vem e nt of symbolic authority unde rground exacerbates para
noia abour the Othe r's excessi ve en joy m ent.
22. Jaques bcan, Le Sminaire, livre XXII!: Le Sinthome, 1975-1976, ed.
Jacques-Alain Miller (Pa ris: Seuil, 2005), 19 (m y tr;nslation).
23. The nonse;sical voiee is a voiee of pllfe en joymem, beca use it is a voiee com
pletel y strippcd of mea ning and mus resounds beyon the confines of the
symbolic ord er. The voice is what remains ofthe significr once mcaning is
subtr:lcted from it. The type of voice Pete r hears at Andy's furthers his per
eeption of enjoyment in it. It is no coincidenee that Pc.:tcr Dayton, a fairly
typic;1 white male Am e rican subject, would posit this enjoyment of the
voi ce in the exotic anJ for e ign chants he hears u pon enre ring Andy's house.
Pete r wants this e njoy men t for him sel f, and yet posits hilllselfculturally ex
c\uded from it. Fred Ma dison :lIso has a similJr rebri on to this "exotic" en
joym ent. which ex pla ins w h y he pla ys te nor s:J xophone in a j;zz ba ndo
Th roug h his pl a ying , F red tri es tu ap proach th e en joyme.m o ft he Other
wh ich he has posited in jn z (and spec ifically in (he jaz z solo) and whieh he
feels hi m scl f excluded from. The night whcn he ca Ils home and Renee
doesn't a nswe r, he feels this exclusion from enjoyment most poignant!y,
;,nd so hc Jaun ehes into a wild solo, a tte mpting to ca pture in ,Ulother direc
cio n, as it werc, the enjoyment he fecls he is missing w ith Ren ee .
24. T his picture enos up pro viding addi tio nal support for the idea tbat Alice
is a fanlasy object: w he n, nea r the end of the film, the police look at othe
picrure, lhey see onl y An dy, M r. Eddy, and Renee -not Alice.
2<;. Ly nch quotes himsclfhe re: as we saw, in b'raserhead (1977), Henry Speneer
111 occas ions a simil ar brig ht flash whcn he tries to toueh his fantasy objeet,
the Radiator L ady. But the car he:ldlights shining directly into the camera
in Los! Highway are even bri g h ter (han the vision of Henry 's union with
Ihe Ra d i;l to r L a dy in E fclsel'head.
11 " ',, Sl:t vnj Zizck, TI/(: A,., oj' fh (' Ritilmlous Sublime: On David Lynch's "Lost
I /.~JW(/y " (:-;t:.;lttlc.:: U <Ir W;~ lt l llgt O !l P, l O""), 1') .
T lt l. )('latio ll1 slti, hC!\V"!'1 1 M I " .I dy/ I )" k L lll re n t (me F,llhe r) and the
\ r-"ty\ lny M:III (111<' 1','Pll""III;,II \'1 Id 1I1I '.III'( 1(')l: II\ ' ~ ITIlldc npparentattwo
NOHS 2~ 9
 differCllt point~ in the film. They -joindy makc a threate ni ng phonc eaH to
Pete r after he begins his rel ationship w ith Alice, a nd w hen F red Madison,
at Andy's party, asks Andy the identity (Jf the M ystery Man, Andy teHs
Fred that he is a frienel uf Dick Laurent.
28. Jaeques Lacan, TheSeminaroffacques Lacan, BookI: Freud's Papers on Tech
nique, J()5.3- T954, transo John Forrester (N ew Yo rk : N o rton, 1988), lO2.
29. Jacgues Lacan, TheSeminar offacques Lacan, Book VII: The EthicsofPsycl1O
anaLysis, 195t)-1960, transo Dennis Porter (N e w York : Norton, 199 2), 177
30. For Hegel, huth art and philosopb y ha ve a clear political task: they r"con
cile subj ects to me cxisting order. Despite ho\\' th is sounds, such a task is
fundameotally radical rather than conservative. By recon ciling subjects to
the existing order, art and philosophy ex pose the \Vay in which all alterna
tives exist in the here and no\\' rather than in a possiblc ur imaginary fu
ture. They are implicit in the current order, already w ritten ioto it and
awaiting realizatiun, though they remain hidd en in the guise of possible
futures. Once one recogni zes this, onc beco m eSa politicized subjcct. Rather
than dreaming about a fa rHa smatic alte rnaliv e, the reconcilcd subjcct
works to bring ir ro light.
R. The Ethics of Fantasizi ng in The 5traight 5tory
[. Many L ynch fans regarded th e film as a snmt ra me r than as an integral
pan of Lynch's body of \Yurk. This was the sentiment expressed by one of
th e anonymous rev iewc rs of this book , w ho admitted that she/ he e \en
a vo ided sceing the fil m beca use uf its a ppa rcDt bck of se riousness.
2. [t: io undoubtedly due to its sccming Iack f fantasmatic disturtion that Th e
Stmight Stol"y has occas ioned so li me critical comme nta ry relati vc to Ly nch's
ot.her work, es pecially lilms such as Blue Ve/I/et (1986) or Mu lholland Dril/e
(2001). Cri ti cs seem to hav e take n (he title htcra ll y a,nd accep ted thatthe film
tells a sim pIe sto ry tha t req ui res little to no in tc rp re tive effort.
3. N icholas Rombes, "B/tlc Velvn Undergruund: D av id Ly nch's Post-Punk
Poetics," in Erica Sheen and Annette Davison, ed s., The Cinema uf Da l/id
Lynch: American D ,.eams, Nigh tmare Visions (London: W allflowe r, 2(04),
72 .
4. Jeff J ohnson, Perv~rt in the Pulpit: M ora/ity in th e Work:' of Dal/id Lynch (Jef
fe rson, N.e. : MacFa rland, 2(04), 138.
5. Johnson, Peroert in he PuLpit, 1.3 8.
6. The visual cm phas is on A lvin 's disability pa ral kls the lreatme nt of Jo hn
Merrick (Joh n Hu rt) in The E /ephant A-lal/ ( IIII,,) BI II ifl \11; case 01' T ht
Stmight SlOry , Lynch dep icts Alvin a,., a LI' I II I}' '. Itll l' ' I \\i lhin lhe imngt
250 N ons
rath e r than, as wi th \.1 <"1"11.1 r!el"" 1in ).; him as an absence irreducible tu
the image.
7. In the figure of Alvin, '" l' '." 1 ,1;1 '1 '_1 cxpcrie nce the suffcril1g that comes
from being alive and 1111111 1':111}' Lv nc h shoots Alvin in a w ay that regis
ters the difficulty ,,1 C \L II <11I1f "t nuvcm eots, aIle! this difficulty marks
the way in which "nil' 111 iI ,., pllre fo rm a ppea r:; . In Seminal" V, Lacan
c1airns , "Desirc h;ls ;( 11 l ' 1111 11 il it Y in rc Ia tion to e very sat isfactio n. It per
mits us tO under,t;lIl" \\, 11.111 , 11 1w: nc rnl ilS profnu nd affinity w ith pain. At
the limit, it is 1.<) Ihi, 11"11.1, ,ir\" i, confined, no t so much in its deve loped
a nd mas ked -urllls, III JI 111 il ' 1"lr(; :l nd si rn pIe to r m , il is the pain of exis t
ing" (Ja cqucs Lacall, I.t SIIIIIIIIri", Livre V Les Formations de L'inconscient,
1957- 1958, cd. Jat'qll" , \I; lin Miller I Pa ris: Seuil. 1998], 338; my transla
tion). Thc depi cli"n ,,( I h (" " pain of existing' in the heginning of The
Straight St()ry d c m;rl ," 1It:1[ [he ~pl:ct ~ to r confron t the fundamental dissat
isfactiQn tha t is d t'si rc.
8. Much spccul;:nion :Irll (") n g Lynch fans centcrs on the quesuon of wh y th e
true story of A h,in Str;l ight a ppea led to Lynch as a fi lm m a ke r, give n how
littlc tl1e sto ry it:;el!" resem bks rl11l of h is oth er films. E ut w ha t locates it
firmly w irh in L ynch's uni ve rse is th e sec ming impossibi li ty of Al vin's
achicvernenl.
9 Joe Kemher, '" David Lynch and th e M ug ShOI: F acework in The E Lephallt
M rm an d The Struight Sto!")' ," in Sheen amI Dav iso n, eds., The Cinema of
'avld L ynch, 33 .
10. Fan tasy rcn de rs lhe subjcct vulnerable for th e samc rcason m a t it func
tions ideol ogi call y; wh ile f~ ntasiz ing, tllC subj ect becornes like one of (he
pr isone rs in P latu '~ cave, unable to lu rn he r/his head ro see '..vhat produces
lhe fasc ina tin g images on lhe w al\. O ne can not sce (he O ther as th t: source
of what one sces, but neither can one sec the O ther as looking.
1I. Imme rsi ng oneself in fantu;y a nd thereby ex posing onese\ f to possib le hu
m iliation is the cthica l positio n that figures prom inently in th e fi lms of
W im Wenders. It rep reseots th e k ey mome nt in Pars, Texas (1 984), Wings
ofDesire (1987), and The E,ld ofVioLeru:e (1 997), a mQng o th e rs.
12. What makes a great political rev ol utionary is p rccisely the public insis
te n ce on a pri vate fantasy. Such figu res refuse te) acee pt the Iirnitations des
ig nated by the prevailing symbolic structurc an d in sist on the impossible.
13 G . W . F. H ege l, Tlle Phenomel1ology oI Spirit, transo A. V. M iller (Oxford :
Ox fo rd U P, 1977), 226.
14. rn Entre -'es mains (J3etwecn H is Hand.s , 20(5), A nn e Fontaine nicel y cap
tures visuall y t-he rela rionship betwee n t.h e d isposition of rhe subject and
th t" degrcl nI' c njoymem shelhe sec~ in orhcrs. On two oCCilsion $ in the film,
NOTES ,1
 we see women ovcrtaken with exce~s.i v c enjoyment while daucing at a
club. Th e shots emphasi ze this enjoyment through wild gy rations, extreme
col()r~, puls<l ring sound, and the wo men's eyes closed in seeming ecstasy.
BUl aflef each shot clepicting excessive enjoymen t, F ontaine cuts to a shot
of ~e r i a l killer Laurcnt Ke ~sler (Benolt Poelvoorde) looking at the dancers.
As ~pectalOrs, we initially expe rience the displa)' of enjo)'ment in its im
m ediac)', but the subseq uent shot undermines this expe rience and allows
LIS to see thc mediation at \York . Th e shot of th e seri al ki lle r lookin g reveals
th at the excess resides in the look itsdf, not in w hat that look sees.
15. Typicall)', fantas)' produces rather tha n eliminates paranoia. By narrating
our lo~s of the impossible object, fantas)' attributes this loss to an external
cause that we can imagine as the thicf of our proper en joymc nt. Alvin's
fantas)' does n't create pa ranoia for guantitati ve rather th an qualitati l/e rea
somo That is, the fantasy isn', d ifferent in structure frorn paranoid fa nta
sies; it is diffe rent beca use he eommits him self to it fully, el/en lO the point
at whi ch it becornes t raurn atic.
9, Navigating Mulholland Orive , David Lynch's Panegy ric to Hollywood
J. r or ~I detailed contrast betwee n the fi lm and the tclc\' ision pilot, sce W a r
ren Buckl,md, .. , A Sad, Bad Tra ffic Accident': T he Televisual P rehisto ry
ofDal/id Ly nch's Film Mu lholland D/: ," Ntw R eview ofFilm afd Televi;ioll
Studics 1.1 (2003): 13 1-47.
2. Stanlcy Ka uffrnann, "Sense and Sensibili ty," New Republic (Octobcr
200 1): 28.
3. Jacques T,a Gtn , The Seminal" offacques L/can, Book XX: Encore, 197 2- 1 97.3,
transo Eruce F ink (Ne w Yo rk: N o rton, 1998),95. This idea h nds an echo
in the fi lm theory of Sta nk y Cavell, who claims, "Il is a poor id ea of fan c\sy
which Lakcs it tO be a wo rld 3pa rt from realit)', a world clca rl y showing its
unreality. Fantasy is precisely w hat rea lity can be confused with. It is
thm ugh famasy th ar ou r con viction of rhe worth of rea li ry is esta blishcd ; ro
forgo our fanta sies woulJ be to forgo our lOuch with the world." Stan lcy
Cal/ell, The World Vicwed (Ca mbridge: Harvard UP, 1979),85
F or a discussion of tbe speci ficall y lcs bian di mc ns ion of lhe fanrasy pre
4 Gilda and wake up with Rita Hayworth.
sented in Mu lholland Drive, ,ce Hcarhcr Lo vc's exccllen t "Specrac ular
Pa ilure: The Fi gure of m e Lesbia n in M ulholland D rille," NeU' LiterarJl
History 35.1 (2004): lI7- .3 2 .
5. The subjc:ct C<lllnOr isolare its objecL bceall~(" 1h i, "hi l .. 1 i, lli 1I 1h(; goal of u\;
sire but lhe cause. D esi re d oes nol CU II \l' ilit" 1..... \ ~: i11 " " 1'" 11 \1: 11, :\1\ id enrifi
a hl e object; i nste:1d, i r C:lI1 e rgt'~ as la , k. J\' 11.111 1 "1 ' 1" 1'1 ,i" 1, '"11, " J)csi n: is
proel ueed not as a srri vi ng (i '1" ,"11 wtllll 1\' ('11 1 tll i 11 l' , , 111 \ III ~. (li t '''11,.-1 h in)!.
,~? N O II S
else or something more. Ir stcms from the fee.ling of our having been duped
by language, cheared of somcthing, not from our having been presented
with a dererminate object or goal for which we can aim, Desire has no
content- it is for notbing- bccause language can ddiver lO us no incontro
ve rtible rrurh, no positive goal." Joan Copjec, Read My Desire: Lacan Against
the Historicists (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1994),55.
6. Jacgues Lacan, Le Smina'e, livre X: L'Angoisse, 1962-1963, ed. Jaeques
Alain Miller (Paris: Seuil, 2004), 98 (my translation).
7. Bruce Fink, A Clinical Introduction to Lacanian Ps)'choanalyJis: Theory and
Technique (Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1997),61.
8, Jacgues Lacan, The Four Fundamental Concepts of Psycho -Analysis, trans o
Alan Sheridan (New York : Norwn, 1978),270.
9. Fink, Clinical Introductioll, (o.
10, In Seminal' XI, Lacan draws attention to rhis movement around the object
that desire perforrns, a movement he associates with desire's rnanifesting
itself in the drive. H e sa)'s, "It is not thar d esi re clings to the object of the
drive--desirc movcs around it, in so far as it is agitated in the drive. "
Lacan, Four Fundamenta! Concepts, 243.
Ir. At this point, we might read L)'nch 's revelarion of the fantasmati c dimen
sion of remporality as a glo.ss on K an t's Critique of Pure Reawn. According
to Kant, rhe foundarioD for all experience lies in m e subject's grasp of
events in temporal succu,sion, as necessa ril)' linked with (lne another. Ex
perience as such rhus depends on the subjeet existing in a unificd time.
29 ,
But MulllOlland Drive suggests that the temporali ty of the suhject is not
primary-not inhere nt to subjectivity as such-but the result of the sub
ject's turn to fantas)'. T he subject experiences temporal ity as ir chooses to
i.mme rse itself in fant as)'. In this sen se, the film doesn't di sprove Kant, but
it does indicare that temporality is not constitutive for the human subject
but the res ult of a famasmatic retreat from repetition .
12. Slal/oj Z izek, The Plague of FantaJies (New York : Verso, 1997), 10--1 I
(Zizek's emphasis).
13 , Ir is not at all coincidental thar Rita takes her name fmm a Gilda movie
poster. As Gilda, Rita Hayworth was clead y a fantasy object, testified to by
her famous declaraton that in her rdarions with men they go to bed with
14. The strucrure ofthe auditon itself is highl), fantasmatic: the producer wel
comes Betty warml)' to the aud itio n, asb hc r if she wan ts sornething to
drink, and works hard to make her feel cornfortahlc. There are eight peo
pIe in the room during the auditon, ncluding a n agent who irnl11cdiarel),
takes Rctty under her wing. In ctuality, Ilr l"< IU r~ e, au d itions for new ac
rilf\ 1 I ying Ollt fo r rheir first pan are rarely ~ II . II' 0 11 111 1I1dati Ilg.
NOTU 253
15. Lacan, Seminal" XX, 66.
16. Slavoj Zi1.ek, Tarrying with the N egative: Kant, H egel. and the Cnque of
JdeoLogy (Durbm: Duke UP, 1994), 117
17. On thi s poi nt, one shoulcl contTast lHuLhoLLalld Dn' ~'e \Vith Andy anJ Larry
Wachowski's n co-noir BozlI7d (I996). RozlI7d places a wo maI1I in the position
of the traditional noir hero and transform s the heterosexu;[ noir relation
ship into a Ieshian one. The res ult is that the sexual rclationship betwee n the
noir he ro, Corky (G ina Cershon), and the femme fatalc, Violct (Jennifer
Tilly), succeecls, whereas in traditional film noir it always runs aground (or
succeeJ s through th e hero's taming the femm c fatale, as in Roben Mont
gomer)"s Lady '/n the Lake [1947]). Th'J[ rh e film is conscious of this becomes
evident in the finallincs exc hanged betwcen the women: Corky asks Violet,
"You know what the diffcrence is between you and me, Violet?" Violet says,
"No." Corky responds, "Me neither." At this point, the two clrivc a\Vay
gether in a shiny new pickup truck, and the film ends. The concludingJia
logue suggests that, unlik e the relationship between the maLe noir hero and
the femm e fatale, the relationship betwee n the female noir hero and rhe
femme fatale encounters no structural stumbli.ng block . The problem w ith
this characterization is that it Jooms rhe les bian relatioflship to lovcless ness.
\Ve onl)' love in response to th e failure ofthe sexual rclationship. As Lacan
puts it, "V/hat makes up for rh e sexual rclationship is, quite precisely, lov e"
(Lacan,Seminal' XX,45)' Ifthis relationship com es offsuccessfull)' (a sBound
insists th;n it d ocs), th en no lo ve can emerge.
18. One of the key politica l fe3tures of eve r)' L)'nch film is the insis tence on che
failure oftn O:' sexual rela t.io n. W hen it docs seem to succeed, as in BLue Ve/
ve! orWiLd al H eart, the film clearly design ares the relarion as Llntasmatic.
This re jection of the successful sexual rc1ation stands out because, as Ray
mond Bellour points out, the fundam ental ideological fun ction of cinema
is the production of this relation in the form of the d iegetic couplc.
According to Bcllour, "The configuration detcrmineJ by th e image of the
diegetic coupte remains abso1utely central to the fiction of a cinema power
fully obsessed by the iJcology of the famil y and of marriage, which con
stitutes its imag inary and symbolic base." Raymond Bc1lour, "A Bit ofHis
tory," trans o Mary Guaintance;, in Constance Penky, eJ., Th e AlJaLys of
Film (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 20(0),14
19. Jacques Lacan, "La Logique du Fantasme," /:lutre.' aits (Paris: Seuil,
2001),326, my rranslan on.
20. Alcnka Zupancic, Ethics ofthe R eal: Kant, Lmm (N.-\\' York ; Verso, 2000'),
23 2.
21. The differe nce betwce n ma!c ami tet1 lal. C:IIII.I'I\' SIIIII'IIIIt'n)ocs the dit'
ference hctween Kanti,\n :1nd I (,-ge li.lIl' " l~l' II I ''''~'\ " 111 K.lld , IIH.'
'5 4 N OH ~
in itsel f- the rea l- rel11ai n, ,d w;ly~ 0UlSiuc of the subjecl's grasp and b\;
yond the field of its kn ow lec!ge . That is ro Sily, rhe thing in itself is al ways
and necessar ily futura!. H egel, on th e om e r hand, sees rhe dJing in itscl fas
pan of the subjecr's ex pe rience rhat the subjecr has yet to recogniz e as its
own. As in male fantasy, Kant rheorizes the subject approaching the expe
rience of the real but neve r arriving at it, while Hegel, foll owing rhe logic
of female fanras)', theorizes the subjcct as havi ng always airead)' had th e
experience of the real.
22. This is mesecond time that a characteT lip-syncs a Roy O rbison song in a
Lynch film, the first being, of course, Dcan Stockwell's famous rendition
of "In Dreams" in BLue Ve/veto 80th perform ances occur at the heart of a
fantas)' space, at the edge of an encounte r wit h a disturbing re;!. It is al
most as ifOrbison 's musi c com bines perfecrl y, for Lynch, th e nostalgic bli ss
(0 of the fantasy world i/nd its un derlyi ng horror.
23- Juan-David Na5io, Five Lessons 011 the Psych oallalytic Them y of Jacques
Lacar, trans o David Pett igrew and Franc;ois Raffoul (Albany: State U of
New York P, 1998), 103.
24 El izabeth Cowie suggests this doublc role of [mtas)' when she points out,
"Fantasy, in irnagin inge njoym cnt without lo~s, al ways posi ts a 10ss already
enacted to which it answers." E li zabeth Cowie, Rep r~sen ting the rVoman:
Cinema and PJ'ychoanaLysis (M inneapolis: U of Min ncsota P, r997), 299.
25 L1can, Sem inal' XX, 3
26. In her fan rasy, Diane compounJs Ad,lm's difficu1 ties by burdening him
wi th rh e demands of this sLIperegoic figure, w ho press urcs birn ro submit to
th e dictatcs ofthe mob and to hire C am illa Rhodes fo r his fi lm, in order that
be mig bt rea p t he benefits of this capitulation. H e re, we see the traditional
role oft he superego, offeri ng enjoyment in excha nge for submission.
27. Sigmund Freud , "Sorne Psychical Conseq uences of rhe Anatomical Dis
tinction Between the Sexes" (1925), trans o James Strac hey, in SE, vol. 19
(London: H ogarth Press, 1961),257.
28. If, as I am suggesting, Muiho LLand Drive repr esents Lynch's most ovenly
ferninist film, it al50 represcnts, at the same time, his least rom ant icizcd vi
sion of femininity. In this way, the film challenges ~v!artha N ochi rnson's
characterization of the fcminine in Lynch's work. According to Nochim
son, Lynch identi.fies femininity with recep tivity and the ability to cede
control, and, in contrast to most filrnmab:rs, he embraces these quali
tieso She c1aims, "The im balance of valuc on force to the exclusion of
recepti vity-often eq uarecl \Vi th weakness- biases the culture and the
mo vies against much that is associated with womcn's wisdom. Lynch's be
licf thar Lhe real requi res a balance berween force and rec eptivity suspends
Ihill;~ tllt' II s lI ;'! 1 t'xclusion uf women from centerS of cultural and narrati ve im-
NOTES 255
 porrance. In his films, the huo must get in touch with---or be-what has
6. The idea that Kant presen t.~ LW II comrecing modalities of subjectivity is
been excluded when the conventional Hollywood hefo ' takes control'"
the dominant understandin g of l he re/acion between the first and second
(Martha P. Nochimson, The Passion ofDavid Lynch:WiLd at Heart in Holly
Critique . For a compelling e la bo ral io n of this conception, see Christine
wood [Austin: U ofTexas P, 1997], II). But in Mulholland Drive, it is cIear
M. Korsgaard, Creating the Kingdom ofEnds (Cambridge: Cambridge UP,
that the feminine is not "receptivity" but a desire every bit as horrific afld 199 6).
destructive as its male counterpart (such as that ofFred Madison).
7 Unlike Lynch, a fter discoverin g the link be tween fantasy and freedom
29. At the point of intersection between the worlds of fantasy and d esire, we
through the separatia n of th e rea lms of d esire and fantasy, Kant fails to see
see a figure of unrestrained and horrifying enjoyment, wh0m Lynch shows
the ultimate identity of these rea l ms. H e fails, in other words, to grasp the
exi-sting behind the diner Winkie's. This figure embodies the real, and as
speculative identity oftheoretica l a nd practical reason. This is the step tbar
such, one cannot endure his presence even for an instant, as we see when a
Ficbte and Hegel accomplish: th ey u nde rstand that the fantasy world of
man coming out ofWinkie's collapses immediately upon seeing him.
practical reason is the truth of theo retical reason rather than simply being
30. Sigmund Freud, Fragment ofan Analysis ofa Case of Hysteria (1905), transo
an alternative to it. The solmio n ma t prac tical reason provides for rhe im
James Strachey, in SE, \101. 7 (London: Hogarth Press, 1953), 110.
passes of theoretical rcason is al rea d y w ritten into the structure of theoreti
31. Tbeodor W. Adorno, Minima Moralia: Reflections from Damagtd Lije,
cal reason, which means that we ne ver engage the world as purely theoret
transo E . F. N. Jephcott (New York: Verso, 1978),202.
ical subjects but always through the distorting influence of practical reason.
This is an insight that Lynch bri ngs to each of his films, and it allows him
Conclusion: The Ethics of Fantasy to use the Kantian separation into opposing realms of d esi re and fantasy to
illustrate the Hegelian identity within opposition.
I. In Seminar VIl, Lacan conceives of ethics in te rms of the relation that one
8. It is not coinciden tal tha t the Critique of Pwe Reason rclies almost entirely
adopts toward one's desire. As Lacan sees it, by refusing ro give ground rela
on argumentation alone, while the crucial points in the Critique ofPractical
rive to one's desire, one sustains an ethical position beca use one does not gi ve
Reason involve the use uf fanciful examples. In order to prove that \Ve are
in ro the demands of an oppressive social law. Slavoj Zizek, on the other
free in the latter text, Kant constructs two scenarios in which the subject
hand, attempts to align ethics with the drive and its inccssant repetition of a
breaks from the natural causality of se/f-interest through the intervention
failed encounter. Bec:usc of its devotion ro the lost cause, to what the social oflaw.
order has repressed, he cIaims [hat "the status of the drive it.rclf inherently 9 Kant ide ntifies freed o m and the ethiclI act. It is our capaciq' for ethical
ethical." Slavo) Zizek, FUI They Knuw Not What They Do: Enjoyment a,. a Po
acts that proves to us that we are free, and it is o nly in ethical acts that we
litica' Factor (London: Verso, 1991),272 (Zizek's emphasis).
trul y affirm our autonomy. E ven though the free subject could choose not
2. Kant enumerates four antinomies of pure rcason and divides them n to
to act ethically, the decision not to do so would actually attesr to the influ
two distinct forms-mathematical and dynamic. In the case of the former,
ence of pathnlogical factors and thus to a lack of freedom.
reason fails beca use both solutions are false, and in the case of the latrer,
reason falIs beca use both solutions are truth.
3 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Pure Reason, transo Werner S. Pluhar (India
napolis: Hackett, 1996),4,8.
4. One might contend, of course, that laws are simply ,i llusions that we con
struct in order to convince ourselves that we are free and that they prove
rwrhing abour our actual frccdom. Bur this response to Kant still can't ex
plain why laws emerge in the first place, why the d eccp tinn w ould ever
come into being. The very emergence of the law i, ~ d r ll.!stifics to so me
rhing that disrupts rhe order of causality rnllll wi , hill .
5 Immanucl Kant, Critique of Practical N.m.iflll, i" '"" Ill r,l rlIlIrtJo/,lly , 'rans.
and ed. Mary J. Gregor (Ncw York : ( ':",,11,11 1.(1 111', "}~'()' " I.i ('4.

256 N OTES
No ns 2H
INDEX

A EOUl de Souffle. See G odard, Jean-Luc

Badham , /ohn: Satllrda y Night Fever,

Abbott (Ruel) and CosteUo (L Oll), 104

13

Aeademy I\wards, 11,49, 9, 23 2-3311

Baudry, Jean -Lollis, 3

Aekerman, C hanw l, 2261l

Bay, M ichad: The /stand, 88

Adorno, Theodo r, 21 9
Bellour, Ray rnonJ , 254n

ali enation-cffcct, 6, 8
Bcrg re n, Eric, 2J2- 331l

The Alphabet . See Lynch, David

Bcrry, Betsy, 9R, 23811

American Broadcasting Company

etween His H allds . See F o ntaine,

(ABC), 129, J94 Annc

Amer ican F ilm Institute, 10,26 Big Boy, 13

"Alvin 's Thcmc." See Badalam enti, Black , Joel, 5

~ngdo Elade Rwwer. See Seott, Ridley

Andr, Serge, 149

B1ake, William, 1T3

an tagonism , 14-15,21,4(,,70,209,
Elue Ve/velo See Lynch, D avid

23Gn. See also Dune; Lacan, Jacques Bonitzer, Pascal, 8

apparatus,7 Rord\\icll. [);vid, 69- 70

"Thc Archaie Torso of Apollo." See Eound. See Wacho\\'ski, Andy;

Rilke, Raine r Maria W achowski, Larry

Hoy SCOU[S, ' 3
Bauala rne nti, An gelo, 197; "Al vin 's Hrakhag", Sl a n, 22(1II
The,n e." t Ro{ ; "Twin Peaks Ik,zi..!, / ;111.' F. \'a l1 ~ , I T5

TIu-IIu-," 1 ~o; lI "I'C/!hI, '" , .\a { ;",I:rrd , k an-Lue

2,Y
Brecht, Bertolt, 5-6,8-10 Del Rio, Rebekah, 214 9 8, 123,148,162,174,216,218, Ishi -Gonzales, Sam, 98-99

Brooks, Mel, 49
Demme, Jonathan: Silel1ce of Ihe 227- 2871 , 229Jl , 23871, 24771
Th t: lsland. See Bay, Michael
Buckland, Warren, 25271
Lamb,', 24471
Frost, Mark, 194.24471 Jt Happened One Nigllt. See Capra,
Bundtzen, Linda, 2400
Derrida, Jacques, 22771
F ran k
Buuel, Luis: Thal Obscure Objecl of
Descartes, Ren, 221
Garden of Eden, 15

Desire, 2400
desire, 2,4,9,13-18,220,22871. See also
George, Diane Hume, 143-44
Jameson, Fredric, 95, 239'l

Lynch, David
Gifford, Barr)': Night Moves, 154; lVild
Jenkns. Patty : Monster, 5

Cameron, James: Tlanic, 21

De Vore, Christopher, 232-33 71
at H ealt (n ovel), 125, 154
Jerslev, Anne, 155

Campion, Jane, 22971

Double Jndemnily. See Wilder, Billy
Gilda, 205, 25371
Johnson, Jeff, 113, 140, 178, 193

Canal+,194
drive. See death drive
Godard, Jean-Luc, 5, 7-9, 11 - 12;
Jurassic Park. See Spielberg, Steven
Cannes Film Festi val, rr, 110, 129
Dune (film). See Lynch, Dav id
ABout de soujfl (Br'eatMess), 8; Les
Capra, Frank: lt Happened One Nighl,
Dune (novel). See H erbert, Frank
Carabimers (The Rifiemen), 8; Le Kaleta, Kenneth, 116

Dunne, Michael, 24211

Mpr (Contempt), 8; Pierrot lefau, Kansas, 13, 18, III

23 00

Les Carabiniers. See Godard, Jean-Luc

8; Vivre sa vie (My Lije to Live), 8; Kant, Immanuel, 29, 220-22, 23on,

Cavell, Stan ley, 25271

Edwards, Jonathan, 24771
WeekEnd,8 253 71 ,254-5571 ,256-5771
castraron, 27, 40-45, 96, 98, 120, 126,
ego ideal, 4, 206
The Grandmother. See Lynch, David Kauffmann, Stanley, 195

170,185-86, 23Jn, 23571, 24 00

Th e Elephanl Mal1. See Lynch, Dav id
Keller, James, 66

Celeste, Reni, 167

The End ofViolence. See Wenders,
Hainge, Greg, 35
Kember, Joe, 184

Chion, Michel, 11,33,40,78,98,

Wim
Hayworth, Rita , 25371
King, Rodney, 228n
100-101, lI6, 130-31,14,15, Entre ses mains. See Fontaine, Anne
Hegel , G. W.F., 41,153,220,22971,
Korsgaard, Christine, 25771

22?n,240n Eraserhead. See Lynch, David

23571, 25 0n , 254-5571 : and th e
Kripke, Saul, 2200

Christianity, 153
Extreme Makeover (televison series), 22
beautiful soul, 23571; and the law
Kubrick, Stanley, 49

Citizen Kane . See Welles, Orson

of the heart. 190; and spec ulativc

commodity fetishism, 9, 28
fantasy, 6, 8-10, 15- 18,22871. See also
identity, 23-24, 25711
Lacan, Jacques, 6, 48,101,174,23271;

Conlempl. See G oda rd, Jean-Luc

Lynch, David
H eidegger, Martin , 32
and antagonism, 236n; and das

Copjec, Joan, T4, 122,23 00 ,25 2-53 71

feminine enjoy ment. See Dune : Lacan, H erbert, Frank: Dune (novel), 68
'ng, 82-84, 234/1; and dcath drive,

Cowie, Elizabeth, 25571

Jacques; Twn Peaks: Fire Walk with A HistOIT ofViolence. See Cronenberg,
146; and the gaze, 17.23471; and

Couleau, Christele, 23071

Me D av id
feminine enjoy rnent, 86, 23871; and

Cronenberg, David: A Hislory of

femm e fa rate, 17-18,25471
Hj tchcock, Alfred, 94,22971,24171
the lamella, 31-32; and the Law of

Violroce, 23971
Fichte, Johann, 25?n
Holladay, W illia m, 233-3471
the Father, 2400; and the objet petit

Fink, Bruce, 198,200

Hollywood fi lm, 2, 4, 5, 8, 11-12,20 a, 51; and the phallus, I42, 24571;

Davis, Walter, 22971

film noir, 17,75,25471
21,27,28,46,49,64,68-72,81,86,
and the real, 9, 25, 211; and the

Davison, Annette, 117

Fleming, Victor: The Wizard ofOz,
125,167, 191,195-97,202,210,219
sexual relationsh ip, 208, 25471; and

Dayan, Daniel, 28
18-19, I Io-rr, 118-19, 126, 229'l,
Hughes, David, 125, 137, 24 In
thesuperego,173,216, 233n ;and

death drive, 123, 202, 220, 25371, 25 00 .

24 Jn
surplus enjoyment, 23111; and the

See also Lynch, David (Twin Peaks: Fontaine, Anne: Entre ses main,'
ideal ego, 166,200,207
theory of desire, 14,54, 123,159,

Fire Walk with Me) (Betwl!t'lI His !-lands J, 25 1 - 5 271

id entificaton, 2, 5-7,166,214
163,170,197,200, 247n,25In,253n,

deconstruction, 12,3, 22771

Ford. I"hll ; Stllj!,f.'(YI(u:h , 7~7 1
imaginary, 2, 5-7,15,16,1 7, 121-22,
256n; and the rhcory of enjoyment,

De Laurentiis, Dino, 68
Fqm,llI h. ~ 11\ 111"1. J.1'ifl
125, 160, 166, 168, 174,29,224,25471
11.7. 140. 23371; and the theory of
Deleuze, Gilles, 235- 3l1
1'11'11" . "11!II 'II lu l. 1, le;, J", 2<; . ;H. H3.
"[n D rcams." Ser O rbison, Ro}'
r~ II1I ;1~y , N. ()r1, 1c.)6. 21 r

160 THE IM POSSII L( DA V III I""JI 1I INOCX ' 1~'

Lady in lhe Lake. See Montgomery, revoluti o nary po lities, 71-72, 88-89,
- -Mulholland Drive, 1 1, I (), ~IJ )1\.
- -Wilda l H eart, 11. 110--28, [50,

Robert
1 17; J.nd the vo icc, 75-79, 23711
192; in cont rast wi th Lost Fliglzway,
154 , 241-4411; in contras w ith T/e

Layton, Lynne, 23911

- - The Elepholll MtJl7, 11, 12, 20, 24,
194,1 96, 20I,209,212-[3, 215- 1C"
Slraight Story , [91 --<P; cultural

L ee, Sheryl, 132

25,49- 67,68,69,7 2 ,90-9 2 ,23 2 254-5511; and desi re , 195-206,
critique in, 112, 117, 120,128; and

Leibniz, Gottfried, 221

36n, 250-5212; and das D2g, 234n;
29-10,217- 18, 252-53n, 25611; and
desire, [[0-12, [23; and exeessive

Los Angeles, 10, 26

:lnd desire, 49-55,58,63-65; and
f:ll1t;\sy, 195- y6, 19 11- 2r y, 253-56n;
enjoyment, 111 - 16; and fanta s)',

LOSl Highway. See Lynch, David

the gaze, 23412; and fantasy, 49-5 1,
and feminism, 255-5611; and the
l JO- 12, 117- 22, 12 5- 28, 24 - 43 n ,

'
Love, H ea ther, 252114
55- 66,234-3511; ano the impossible
impossible object, 200-201, 207 25411; :l.IId the impossible ohject,
Lucas, George: SlarWars, 68, 88
object, 51-58, 62-64; 233-3411; and
208,2[3- 14,217- 1::1; production
II2; music in, 117-19; producti on
Lucas, Tim, 165
norm a lity, 57- 58, 62--63, 65-67;
hisrory and reecption of, IY4,
h istory and reception of, 11 0, [25,
Lynch, David: and co nserv:nive
productio n history and recepti on
25011; and sexual diffcrcncc, 196,
129

politics, 120, [28, 179; anJ de~ire, of, 49,232-3311

20?' - 210, 212- 17, 25411; ano the

13,18-23,25,22711,22811; and dress , - - Eraserhead, 2,10-11,13,19,20,

supcrego, 2 15- 17; and tcrnporali ty,
Mamet, David: The Winslow Boy, [77

13; and fantas)', lI-13, 18-25,26, 25,26-48,58,69,72,82,9,117,

20[-202
J\1arcuse, Herbert, 22711

220-24,227n ,22812,229-30Il ;and 223,230-3 211 ; audio track or, 35;

~C,ix Figures C cu ilg Sick, 10
;v[arker, Chris, 2212

normality, 12-[3, '9- 20; ;Ind the and capitalist production, 26-28,
- - He SI;C/~r.;/11 Story, 177-Y3, 194,
Marshall, Garry: Pretty Voman, 46

spectator, 2-3,10- 13,22611 3-33,3 6 ,39-44,47- 4 8,14 1,

2511 - 25217; in con tra st with U/ild
Marx, Karl, 9, 22, 36, 43, 90, 228-2911 ,

--The Alphabel, 10; and the 23 In; Jnd desire, 27,32-39,23 In; at Heart, 191-92; cultural critique
23 111

uncanny, 22~ ano fantasy, 27- 3,32,34,38-47,

in, 191-93; a nd desire, 179-i:)(;
Mar;,(c, M:rcia Smith, 240-411l

--Dlue Velvel, 11, 19,5, <)0-lO9,

14 1,221 - 22, 23 11l; lighting in, 33,
Jnd ethics, I Si-Y3, 25111; ami
ma sochism, 62, 124,23212

112,134, [35, [50, 178, 238- 4 m ,

230-3 III , 24911 ; performance of
fantasy, '7R-So. i12-9j; ami th l'
Memento. Seo' Nolan, Christopher

24811,25512 ; and dcsire, [4, \)0- <) 1,

Jack Nance in, 34; production
impossible ohjcCl, IS3 , IS8; ;lnd
Le i'vlp . .'lee G nrlard, J e~Tl- Luc

94-109; and [;'nL:\SV, 90-y, 98-109,

history and reception of, 26, 49;
irony I 78-7Y; and paranoia, IYO ;\,terrick, John, 232-33n

231;11 ,254n; teminist critiques of,

and sacrifiee of enjoyme nt, 27,
93,25211; production histor , and
Met:., Christian, 3, 6-7, 28, 22511

9,94,23911; ano th e gJ.7.C, 107;

29-38,42-43,4 7-48,23112
rccl'p tion of, 177,2511; and
Milkr, JacCjue s-.'\l ain. 'J9. 101

and the impossiblc objcct, t)4, 100,

--The G/'tJndmOlh er, 10
rc-.olutionary politics, lC) 3, 25112
MissulIla (Montana). I)

104- 106; lighting in, 97,157,24012;

--LOSl High way, 1[,1 9, 20, 15,
--Twil2 Peaks (tek \' ision series),
Aloasler. So,; Jc: nkins, P;1tty

and maternity, 101-102, 106, 108,

154-76,178,192,22712 , 246-512;
20,110. I2Y- 30, [3 2, 13 6 , 143, [9'"1,
Muntgo m<:ry, Robe rt: Lady il2 the Lake,

240-4 In; production history and

in contrast with Mulholland Drive,
244 '1
254 n
reccption of, 90, 110, 251/; and
194,196,201,29, 212-13,215-16,
- - 'livll1 Peal(s: Fire 'f/{i/k w/c!z Me , Mo tion P ictu re ,\ssociation of
sexual difference, 94, 99-1 02
254-5511; ;I nd d es ire, 155-64,
19, '2Y-53, [55, 194,223,244- 4 611 ;
America, 177

--Dune, 25, 68-89,9, [['5,

[66--69,17, 174- 75; and fantasy,
and death drive, 146- 48 , 153; and
Mul/ollal1d D rive. See Lynch, David

236-38n; and antagonism, 71; in

155-57,159, 164-75,246-4811; and
desire, 130-31, [37- 40, 144- 1'5, 149;
Mul vey, Laura , :3, 6-7, 91; Riddles of th~

contrast with the novel, 76, 78,

the impossihlc object, 155-56, TiS;
and ethics, [36, 151-53; and fantas)',
Sp/nix, 226n
85-88, 236-37n; and f:1ntasy, 69-76,
lighting in, 157, [71 -72,22711,24911;
13-38, 14-45, 148-49,24411; and My Lije to Uve. See G od3rd, Jean-Luc
78-89, 2371J ; and o es ire, 72- 76, 8[,
and normality, 174; p roduction
fcminine enjnymcnt, 149-51; and

24m; and fcmininc cnjoyment,

history and rcce ption of, ['54. 24(m;
impossible object, [3 0-3 1, 134, 136 N~ n ce, Jack. See Erczserhead

85-87; and the impossiblc ohject,

soutld m , 1(,2; :lllCllhe su p; rego,
37; and phallic authority, 14 2 -43,
Ka sio, Juan-Dav id, 214

7+ 76; proouction hi story ano

11", "l. 1 7 ~ 7 1, J I? <cm; ,Ind lhe
146-53, 245n; p rod uetion history
Natura l Bom K iUers. See Stone, Oli vcr

reecption of, S, 1lO , 12t), 2~(,1/; :Illd

\ ' 1111 ~ I I 1'1 1 ., 1, '1' 111
and rc;C(;p,i'ln of, 129, 154
Ileurosis, ', 20, 228n

262 lit I Mro~r, lpl r rlAV lp IYN i: tt I NDEX 16

New York City, 13,49
Night Moves. See Gifford, Bany
Noehimson, Martha, 11,50, 116,118,
160,234-35 n ,254-55 n
Nolan, Christopher: Memento, 16-17,
228n
normality, 13-16, 227-28n. See a/so
Lyneh, David
objet petit a, 53, 55-56, 64, 104, 107,
13,139,27. See also Laean,
Jaeques
Oedipus,72
Orbison, Roy: "Crying," 214; "In
Dreams," 104, 255n
Ordinary People. See Redford, Robert
Paramount, 49
paranoIa, 41,124,19, 243n, 25271. See
also The Straiglzt Story
PaTis, Texas. See Wenders, \Vim
Pellow, C. Kenneth, 92, 23~
Penley, Constancc, 7
Pfeil, Fred, 238n
phallus, 85-86,142-43,147-5, 153,
169-70. See also Laean, Jaeques
phenomenology, 22871
phn:nology, 23-24
Pierrot le fou. See Godard, Je an- Lue
Plato, 221, 25 In
Plummer, Laura, 152
Pomeranee, Bcrnard, 233n
Powermad : "Slaughterhouse," 117-1 9
Preston, Janet, 96-97
Pretty Woman. See Marshall, Garry
psyehoanalytie film theory, 3
psyehosis, 16, 228n
Raeek, Cate, 139-40
Redford, Robert: Ordinar}1Peop{e,
23 2-3311
16~ THf IM" O$~ 'U LE DAV IIJ lYN' "
Republiean National Committee, 178, Stone, Oliver: Na turalliol/l l\il/f"I . , I'wre sa vie. See Godard, Jean-Luc
193 24 1-4 2n urhe voice." See Dune; Lost Highway
Rcsnais, Alain, 2297) Stoekwell, Dean, 2'i'i1/ vuye urism, 3- 4, 6
Riddles ofthe :3phznx. See Mulvey, superego, 52, 76, I1 'i r 2.17 1Mil, '.~ljll ,
LlUra See also Laean, J:I ~ (I''' ''( I di' Waehowski, Andy: Bound, 254n
The Rifiemen. See Godard, Jean-Lue Highway; Mulh()II,/II,I / II// Wachowski, La rry: Bound, 254n
Rilke, Rainer Maria: "The Arehaie surplus enj 0l'mc rH, _" Sr , "/In 1 1 ~.lI l r Wallaee, D avid Foster, 246n
Torso of Apollo," I Jaeques Watl Streetjournal,13
Rombes, Nieholas, 178 surplus val ue, 3(' Wa rner, Ma rin a, 248n
Romeo and juliet . See Shakespeare, Sweeney, M:HY, ' 7 Waters, John, 49
William symbolie la w. R" 111\. 1 ' 1. 1 1~I ' ..:13 Watt, Stephen, 233-34n
Russian formalism, 228n symboli c urJ a, i> 7. lO;. Hf,. Ui, ' 1n, Waynes Wortd. See Spheeris, Penelope
215,24UII We'l'k End. See Godard-Jean-Luc
sadism,23 2n Welles, Orson, J; C'ltizen Kane, 233n
Sargent, Alvin, 232-33n Tarkovsk y. A ncln.: i, .2911; $11J1ke'r, Wende rs, Wim, 229n; Paris, Texas,
Sartre, Jean-Paul, 225n 229 n 25 111 ; WillgsofDerr:, 229n, 25111;
Saturday Night Fever. See Badham, Taylor, Aaro n, 230-3 11/ The End ofViolence, 251n
John That Obscul'e Obj.:ct oI Dri/rC'. Se, W illis, Sharon, 117,242-43"
Sehindlerj List. See Spielberg, Steven Buuel, Luis Wild at Heart . Sr:e Lynch, Dav id
Seott, Rid 'ley: B/ade Runner, 237n Titanie. See CamCr(l n, Tomes Wild at H eart (novel). See G ifford,
Shakespeare, William, 1; Romeo and Tomasulo, F rank , 2.811 Barry
juliet, 57 Total Reeall. See Vc: rhoeven, Pa ul Wilder, BilIy: Double Indemmty,
Sheen, Eriea, 69 Travolta, Joh n, 13 17- 18
Silenee ofthe Lambs. See Demme, Treves, Frede riek, 232-33n Wings ofDesire. See We nde rs, Wim
Jonathan Tw in Peaks (rel evision series). Ser: The Winslow Boy. See Mamer, David
Six Figures Gming Sick. See Lync h, Lynch, David Wittgenstein , Ludwig, 225-26n
David Tt4lin Peaks: Fire Walk wlth M e. See The Wizard ofOz. See F lc ming, Vietor
"Slaughterhouse." See Powermad Lynch, D avid Wollen, Pcter: Riddlr:s ofthe Sphinx,
Sloterdijk, Peter, 227n "Twin Pea ks Theme." See 22611
speculative identity, 61, 67, 89, 128, Badalamenti, A ngelo W oods, Paul, 13,34
175-76, 235n, 244n. Ser: also H egel,
G. w.F. Yarda, Agn ~s , 226n ZiZek, Slavoj, 11,76,91,92,147-148,
Spheeris, Penelope: Waynes World, 10 Ve rhoev cn, Paul: Total Recall, 88 161,202,29, 227n, 23 6n ,242n ,
Spielberg, Steven:jurassie p(l1'k, 24In; Virgil, 29, 75 25 6n
Sehindlers LiJt, 5
Spinoza, Baruch, 221
Stagecoach. See Ford , John
Star Y,'ck, (,K
Sta/' WlJ rf . S"r I.m :\~, fkorgc
Tlu' ,'ir1 rl/";11I S,r), ,'ic'r I.ynch, Da vid
S/II lkfl .\(y 1 .1I~Il\, f v,i\nd r(' i
IN OEX 26'