Since my little brother Jim and his girlfriend are going to be visiting this weekend and we've got a night out planned tomorrow, tonight is to be a nice, sensible night in. Needless to say, being Friday, I make sure to pick up a couple of bottles of red on the way home and some accessories (samosas, bhajis) to go with the tasty curry K is planning to sort out for us. We eat dinner and crack open the first bottle, enjoying that peculiarly Friday feeling of having the longest possible time left until we really have to do anything at all. It's magical.
After dinner we wander through to the living room with a vague plan to watch a movie, and I stick on Mulholland Drive, having got it free with The Observer a couple of weeks ago. I wouldn't claim to be the biggest fan of David Lynch (having had his films expertly runied for me at university by tortured Freudian readings - though I'll admit Lost Highway is a very good movie) and these days I'll usually balk at the idea of sticking on a film longer than two hours (two hours plus = bad editing with few exceptions) as they have a habit of eating entire evenings, but K seems up for checking this one out. As it turns out, it does feel long - and it revels in its Lynchian puzzle-movie status. I read up later that it was originally planned (and even parts of it shot) as a TV series, and the ending added later on - and while this shows it sits nicely as a series of creepy vignettes. The early scene involving the man in the cafe describing his spooky dream is incredibly well done and one of those uncanny horror-scenes that stays with me long after.
When the film is done we're both knackered and full of wine, so we watch some slightly lighter telly for a while before shuffling off to bed.
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