Welcome to Lynchland Review:
A Taut, Touching Tribute
CANNES FILM FESTIVAL - CANNES CLASSICS
Words by Alex Secilmis 14 May 2025
A Taut, Touching Tribute
CANNES FILM FESTIVAL - CANNES CLASSICS
Words by Alex Secilmis 14 May 2025
35 years ago at Cannes, David Lynch’s Wild at Heart (known in France simply as Sailor et Lula) took home the Palme d’Or to smatters of applause—and equally loud booing. Such a response will seem untoward and even blasphemous to his legions of fans, but, despite the degree of his success and influence, it’s worth remembering that Lynch was first and foremost an arthouse director. His work unsettles the viewer, and when he offers any comfort, he’ll only serve you the cherry pie with a harrowing exploration of evil as your next course. I suspect it’s why the Oscars failed to give him a proper tribute when he passed this January.
Welcome to Lynchland asserts that the extreme reactions on either end of the spectrum are a testament to the haunting, surrealist beauty of Lynch’s work—and regards his genius as unquestionable. Like Wild at Heart, Stéphane Ghez’ documentary has another title in France (David Lynch, une énigme à Hollywood), and one doesn’t have to be a native speaker to understand the key word. Honouring an artist who held a mystery in every frame, Welcome to Lynchland looks to his filmography and collaborators to decipher the enigma of the director himself, all while acknowledging the impossibility of that very task.
Beginning and ending in a recreation of the Red Room, the documentary excels in the delicate art of supplementing clips from Lynch’s films with original visuals that evoke his work. When the camera glides over the red curtains and chevron floor pattern, Bernard Gabay’s narration playing through Dale Cooper’s tape recorder, the imitation is a loving exercise—unsubtle but appropriate given the mission of understanding the man through his work. The same can be said when we meet Kyle MacLachlan in a 50s-style diner, Twin Peaks playing on a tube TV on the counter. As he prepares to sample a certain hot beverage, the film cuts back-and-forth to the original series before the actor calls it a “damn fine cup of coffee”.
Welcome to Lynchland asserts that the extreme reactions on either end of the spectrum are a testament to the haunting, surrealist beauty of Lynch’s work—and regards his genius as unquestionable. Like Wild at Heart, Stéphane Ghez’ documentary has another title in France (David Lynch, une énigme à Hollywood), and one doesn’t have to be a native speaker to understand the key word. Honouring an artist who held a mystery in every frame, Welcome to Lynchland looks to his filmography and collaborators to decipher the enigma of the director himself, all while acknowledging the impossibility of that very task.
Beginning and ending in a recreation of the Red Room, the documentary excels in the delicate art of supplementing clips from Lynch’s films with original visuals that evoke his work. When the camera glides over the red curtains and chevron floor pattern, Bernard Gabay’s narration playing through Dale Cooper’s tape recorder, the imitation is a loving exercise—unsubtle but appropriate given the mission of understanding the man through his work. The same can be said when we meet Kyle MacLachlan in a 50s-style diner, Twin Peaks playing on a tube TV on the counter. As he prepares to sample a certain hot beverage, the film cuts back-and-forth to the original series before the actor calls it a “damn fine cup of coffee”.
Ghez uses each interview to explore a different facet of the director and his cinema. MacLachlan speaks on his fascination with the seedy underbelly of small towns, Laura Dern on how he pushed the form with Inland Empire, and Isabella Rossellini on the way Blue Velvet was inspired by his traumatic childhood memory of seeing a naked woman on the street. Turning to critic Thierry Jouse and essayist Pacôme Thiellement, the film also explores Lynch’s relationship with France. When ABC pulled the plug on Mulholland Drive after filming a television pilot, it was French production company StudioCanal that saved the film, later financing the decidedly uncommercial Inland Empire. Ghez’s work offers an absorbing reflection on Lynch’s relationship with the US, suggesting that detractors in his home country dislike how he confronts them with America’s violent past and present.
With Lynch’s cryptic filmography demanding exhaustive analysis, it’s no small feat that Welcome to Lynchland paints a vivid picture of the director in its brisk 1-hour runtime. Introducing the film at Cannes alongside Lynch’s son, Riley, Ghez revealed that the director saw a cut of the film before his death. In the most important review of all, Lynch wrote Ghez a message in all caps saying that he loved it.