So, this is a David Lynch movie, which means that even if I wanted to describe the plot, I couldn’t. According to Wikipedia, “The film’s surreal narrative structure has been likened to a Möbius strip, while Lynch has described it as a ‘psychogenic fugue’ rather than a conventionally logical story.”

Which… yep, checks out. Each individual scene makes sense, it’s coherent moment to moment, but when you try to fit it all together into a single whole, you just can’t. And so you might say, okay, that’s a lot like Mulholland Drive, right; and you might recall that I hated Mulholland Drive for meaning nothing and having no true interpretation; and you might then surmise that I hate this for the same reason.

But I don’t, and the reason is that this isn’t set up as a puzzlebox mystery. In Mulholland Drive, the whole structure of the movie is to tell you that there’s something mysterious going on, and to make you feel like you’re being given hints to figure it out, and that there is a true meaning underlying everything; so for it not to have one is a fatal flaw.

This movie, though, is just all about the mood, and about the flow of scenes and characters. You’re not going to walk out of it saying, “okay, see, so what really happened was…” — it’s clear even while you’re watching that this just isn’t a movie that is going to lend itself to that kind of exegesis.

Which I still think does keep it from greatness. It’s cool, it’s atmospheric, it’s interesting to think about the thematic echoes of different events in the movie; but that’s all it is. Recommended for those who want to marinate in a Lynchian vibe.