Lynchian Delights

I got to go to David Lynch’s house once.

As a die hard Twin Peaks fan for many years, and someone who admires his work as a filmmaker as something truly unique and magical, it was an unbelievable moment.

I was working for the New Beverly Cinema and I went to pick up a 35mm print of Eraserhead that we were going to be showing. The thrill of driving up into the Hollywood Hills and seeing his house was palpable. He wasn’t there, but I got to see the office, and his very kind assistant helped me carry the heavy film cans out to the car, where I had a very Lynchian encounter.

There, lying in the driveway, was a rodent unlike any I had ever seen before.

Me: What is that?

Assistant: Oh, that must be the mole!

Me: That’s a mole?

Assistant: Yeah, there was a mole that was stuck in one of David’s pipes and he could hear it thrashing around in the walls. We finally had to get a plumber to come and flush it out. I guess that’s it.

I was secretly thrilled something surreal had happened on my trip to his house. I would have been kind of disappointed if it hadn’t. The mole, however, looked very unhappy.

David Lynch popped into the New Beverly as a complete surprise around that time as well, no one working there or in the audience knew he was coming, nor did that night’s host, Edgar Wright (whose initial overwhelmed cinephile distress was visible, but he recovered well – he didn’t expect to see one of his heroes sailing through the door.)

Laura Dern was scheduled to come for the Q&A, and she brought David along for fun. Seeing him come through the red curtains (!!) on the side of the stage, I gasped and brought my hands to my face in shock – just being that close to his aura was magical. He held the cinema in rapture, finished the Q&A, disappeared through the red curtain again, fittingly, and was gone.

Not long after that, I was accompanying my then-boyfriend to Paris on a trip with his family. Knowing that David Lynch has a bar in Paris, Silencio, I emailed his assistant and asked if there was any way I could get in. She emailed back that she would be happy to put me on the list, and before I could say, “The owls are not what they seem,” I was standing in front of a very non-descript door in Paris, across from an absinthe bar. There was a lone door man out front, but no address or name to be seen.

Silencio is a very exclusive club. It was members-only from 8pm to midnight nightly, after which it opened to the public. The process to apply to become a member is rigorous and expensive. The membership includes entry nightly, where there is a calendar of different music and a film each night, as well as a sampling of food from a rotating series of well-known chefs.

Picture yourself stepping off of a loud, brightly lit Paris street into a staircase, very dimly lit and surrounded by soundproofing equipment. You are giddy from anticipation, though a small amount of anxiety is present as well. As you descend the staircase two flights, the soundproof walls offer you complete and utter silence. No noise from the street above, no noise from the club below. You could be walking into anything – and when David Lynch is behind that anything, it is a terrifying prospect indeed. A few more flights down and you face a large TV screen on an all black wall, showing Lynch’s photography – a close up on a beautiful blonde with tears streaking down her face, next a gorgeous brunette standing in front of a horrible car accident in the desert.

The club itself is broken up into three hall-like rooms. The rooms are narrow, curved and long – you feel almost like you are walking in a subway station. The walls and ceilings are covered with blocks of wood in varying lengths and thicknesses – all painted gold.

If you walk down the first corridor, to your right there is a library and several small tables – heavy coffee-table photography books are strewn about. Further down this first corridor is a smoking room behind heavy glass doors. The room has no chairs, but instead you can stand between very spindly, tall trees with ashtrays built in. A mirror on the far wall gives the illusion of a forest extending into the distance. The co-ed bathroom is at the back of this corridor, done all in black marble, with a long trough-like sink and black towels.

The second corridor is made up of a bar, and the third, too, has a bar, as well as a DJ station along the back wall. The front part of the third corridor is a stage, looking almost exactly like the one the chipmunk-cheeked girl dances on in Eraserhead – with lush red curtains and dark blue lighting. There is a dance floor here ringed by chairs – this is where the films show nightly.

The night I attended, Quentin Dupieux’s new film, Wrong, was showing, and the food for the evening was a sampling of Argentinian cuisine. The crowd was sparse and it wasn’t until the club opened its doors to the public at midnight that it started to come alive. The clientele was enviably and excruciatingly hip Parisians, so needless to say, the coolness factor was off the charts.

David! Lynch’s! Nightclub!

One of my very coolest moments in life was finally arriving at the hostess’ table, only for her to say “Oh! You’re David Lynch’s guests! We’ve been expecting you!” and then showing me to a reserved table. Even typing that sentence is insane. I definitely did not feel cool enough to be in that establishment, but I also soaked in every drop of the experience and it lives on in my memory very clearly. A film lover’s absolute dream.

So although I have not yet met David Lynch, he has definitely made an impact on me, not only through his films, but also in real life. I am infinitely thankful for the hours of enjoyment his work has given my life, and being able to have these stories to tell.

I feel lucky to have even crossed paths with the mole stuck in his pipes.

Featured images by Julia Marchese shows the exterior of Silencio (left) and Laura Dern and David Lynch at the New Beverly (right).