DOES DAVID LYNCH HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT HES DOING WITH HIS LIFE?
“Yes Ma’am!” David Lynch enthusiastically shouts in response to an important question: Does he want another coffee? Lynch has a theory about cups of joe: “If you turn away from them for one second, they go cold on you.” Simultaneously comic, superstitious, even faintly sinister, the observation is typically Lynchian – it points to a recognizable truth. His ability to expose hidden meaning in the familiar or everyday seems instinctual, as natural to him as it is strange to others. When Mel Brooks famously dubbed Lynch “Jimmy Stewart from Mars,” it was incisive shorthand for a complex puzzle. Lynch’s work, at times deeply disturbing and darkly hilarious, is even more troubling against the back of his golly-gosh, folksy, clean cut American persona. “Eagle, Scout, Missoula, Montana” is how Lynch chose to characterize himself to the press in 1990 the year his delirious road movie Wild At Heart won the international film community’s greatest honor: the Palme d’Or at Cannes. The same year, TV
