Strictly for fans — the rest of the world clearly doesn’t get it. The cigarette smoke billows up, meshing with and helping to accentuate the shock of white hair. It is, unmistakably, David Lynch, one of the handful of filmmakers in the history of cinema who has, for better or for worse, remained true to their vision. It took a trio of documentarians (Jon Nguyen, Rick Barnes, and Olivia Neergaard-Holm) to tell this chapter of his story, which stops just before filming commenced on his breakthrough feature Eraserhead. Is there a more rewarding way of spending 90 minutes than watching Lynch putter, reminisce, and work on a sculpture? Maybe, but you’d need to give Lynch the budget to produce another feature to find out. This is the first time a film with Lynch’s name attached has played San Diego since 2001’s Mulholland Drive; seeing 2006’s Inland Empire on the big screen meant driving to LA. (2016) — Scott Marks
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