ROOM TO DREAM by David Lynch & Kristine McKenna (Canongate Books, 2018)
This is book for those who love David Lynch and his unique art life. If this part memoir-part biography is to be believed, this includes approximately 99% of the population.
In all the interviews with friends, family, ex-wives and actors practically no-one has a bad word to say about him and the level of critical analysis is about as deep as an article in Hello magazine. I’m a huge admirer of Lynch’s work but even I wearied the constant fawning tone adopted by journalist Kristine McKenna.
The book’s structure provides that a chapter of biographical details by McKenna is followed by one by Lynch who corrects any errors and adds his own memories. The introduction states: “What you’re reading here is basically a person having a conversation with his own biography”.
In principle this seems like a good plan. What we know of Lynch is that he plays his cards very close to his chest. He gives relatively few interviews and never explains his strange visions. The most you’ll get out of him is that his ideas come from dreams, chance encounters or overheard snippets of conversation.
Wisely, he leaves others to dissect his work and give their own interpretation of the more surreal elements. Based on this, I didn’t really expect there to be any revelations about his movies but, given that someone else was tasked with doing independent research, I did expect to discover more about his personal life and to get a better idea of what makes him tick.
David Lynch & Isabella Rossellini
Instead what we get is a steady stream of admirers who line up to say what an amazing, kind, inspirational, creative, charismatic, handsome and all round wonderful human being he is. This is something of a paradox given that Lynch is an artist renowned for revealing the shadowy side of life beneath an apparently perfect veneer. Not surprisingly, Lynch’s contributions correct very few of McKenna’s findings which offer no real insights into the darker side of his personality.
What he doesn’t say is more telling. For instance, he makes practically no reference to his relationship with Isabella Rossellini that led to the break up of his second marriage. From other accounts we know that this affair blossomed on the set Blue Velvet and was ended by Lynch for reasons that are not, and probably will never be, entirely clear. Rossellini has hinted in interviews to be found elsewhere that Lynch’s notorious attention for detail stems from obsessive compulsive disorder but McKenna doesn’t dare to suggest anything so negative. To her the sun shines out of David Lynch’s behind so this makes for a biography that is, to borrow Lynch’s favorite adjective, dreamy.
When, in the final chapter, Lynch lists of all the key people in his life he names artist Toby Keeler, longtime friend Ray Fisk, director Mel Brooks, art dealer Jim Corcoran, producer Dino De Laurentis and composer Angelo Badalamenti. He adds that the Maharishi played the biggest role of all for introducing him to transcendental meditation. Conspicuous by their absence are his three ex-wives, lovers or indeed any women other than his mother.
His current wife, his fourth, is Emily Stofie who is 35 years his junior and who gave birth to a daughter (Lulu) when he was 66. Near the end of this book, Stofie offers a rare moment of criticism towards her husband: “He’s not good at close relationships and it’s not like he has a group of friends he spends time with. He works and that’s where he gets his joy”.
What I conclude from this pseudo biography is that living the art life means being charmingly chauvinistic, determinedly selfish and constantly secretive. In maintaining a successful public profile it also helps if you can get a 500 plus book published that keeps the enigma alive while presenting any failings in a glossy light. Room To Dream is that book.
