From Eraserhead to Twin Peaks, exploring David Lynch’s most iconic work

American filmmaker, writer, and artist David Lynch has passed away at the age of 78, and he was truly one of a kind. His career spanned six decades, and his dark, subversive vision earned him a devoted following and high praise from critics.

His influence was so profound that the term "Lynchian" is often used to describe anything that bears even a slight resemblance to his unique atmosphere and aesthetic. Yet, despite his style being so inspirational, it’s difficult to imitate. He consistently walked the line between dreams and reality, and his surrealist works juxtaposed the comforts of everyday American life with unsettling themes and nightmarish imagery, creating a world where innocence and depravity are closer than you might think.

Here are some of the highlights of David Lynch’s illustrious career. Mulholland Drive (2001) Watching a Lynch film requires a certain amount of mental preparation, but the brilliance of Mulholland Drive lies in how it lures you into its labyrinth. It's a psychological, avant-garde thought experiment about the dark side of Hollywood, disguised as a classic film noir mystery. The story starts off intriguing, and crucially, easy to understand: an aspiring actress new to Los Angeles (Naomi Watts) meets a woman (Laura Elena Harring) who has amnesia after a car accident.

But then, the plot takes a sharp turn, with branching and perplexing storylines that take the viewer down a maze of nightmarish visions and intense atmosphere… which makes it all the better. With its impressive technical craft, vibrant performances, and disturbing yet unforgettable scenes, Mulholland Drive provides a microcosm of Lynch’s exhilaratingly strange style, making it a great entry point for first-time viewers.

Twin Peaks: The Return (2017) The original TV series, set in the titular Pacific Northwest town, followed the FBI investigation into the murder of local teenager Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee). The show ended on a cliffhanger in 1991, sparking decades of speculation. But, as Palmer herself promised (“I’ll see you again in 25 years”), Twin Peaks unexpectedly returned for a third season. Though Lynch reunited with co-writer Mark Frost and most of the show’s cast, The Return was, even for Lynch, a darker, twisted portrayal of the quirky northwestern town that millions first fell in love with. It was a place where bizarre, transcendent beauty coexisted with immense evil.

It also defied fans' expectations, most notably with actor Kyle MacLachlan, who for much of the show clumsily plays the silent, office-worker Dougie Jones. His Dale Cooper—the enigmatic, ever-optimistic FBI hero of Twin Peaks—is not in his body, like a lightbulb burned out. Where is Laura Palmer? Is Audrey Horne okay? The Return eschewed answers and tipped the scales toward the evil, instead examining the fear behind all of Lynch’s work, expressed by a minor character in Twin Peaks: “Love might not be enough.”

Part 8 contains the series’ most singular moment, a primarily black-and-white, silent journey into the point of no return for humanity: the U.S. government’s 1945 nuclear bomb test, “Trinity.” From a distance, we see it explode, then its cloud reaches the lens, triggering a minutes-long journey through the flames, set to the dissonant “Threnody to the Victims of Hiroshima.” Though Lynch is beloved by millions, his work always feels like a secret code whispered just to you, difficult to decipher, bypassing consciousness to reach a transcendent plane. But occasionally, in the most irreverent, silly scenes (and there are many, despite the darkness), there's a direct appeal to goodness, and a resistance to the painful forces we can’t control. As one of Lynch’s own characters would say, “Fix your hearts or die.”

Eraserhead (1977) I don’t know how to rate Lynch’s debut feature. I don’t even know if I like it. All I know is that since I rented the VHS tape of it in high school, it’s been a particular nightmare that will never fully let me go. It’s a black-and-white surrealist film about a man who must confront and reckon with his sperm-like, horrific baby. (An inspiration for Etsy crafters, it seems.)

The film’s nightmarish body horror will hit you in the face, but it’s the unsettling, layered sound design (co-created by Lynch and his longtime collaborator Alan Splet) that traps you in this unpleasant dream, not allowing even a moment of respite. But let’s get back to the baby. Because it’s really all about the baby. I won’t lie, when my oldest son was born, I thought of the baby in Eraserhead. Is that weird? Probably. But I’m sure I’m not alone.

Dune (1984) Lynch’s adaptation of Frank Herbert’s sci-fi epic is incredibly, wonderfully weird, sometimes disturbingly bad, and truly unforgettable. Lynch has always disowned Dune—in a review of Dune, film critic Roger Ebert called it “a mess, an incomprehensible, ugly, unstructured, pointless excursion into one of the most confusing screenplays of all time.” Ouch.

But over the years, Lynch’s Dune has become a cult classic for exactly those reasons. Imagine if the author of Blue Velvet made a bizarre, surrealist version of Star Wars but with a much smaller special effects budget, and you get the idea. If your primary contact with the world of Arrakis is Denis Villeneuve’s grand, high-budget, sandworm-filled, Zendaya and Timothée Chalamet epic, it’s worth digging into the historical weirdness of Lynch’s version, and appreciating the fact that it was ever made in the first place.

You’ll get to see a young Kyle MacLachlan as Paul Atreides, doing his best to make bad special effects work; Patrick Stewart charging into battle with a pug; and Sting as a deranged, red-haired Harkonnen nephew in a blue loincloth that you’ll never forget. Weird is good. Battle pugs forever.

Lost Highway (1997) Lost Highway arrived in front of David Lynch’s fans five years after Twin Peaks. It was a bold return—a hypnotic film that delves into the shadowy underbelly of Los Angeles. Bill Pullman stars as Fred, an experimental saxophone player married to Alice (Patricia Arquette), who begins to suspect something is amiss in his home. Fred encounters the Mystery Man (Robert Blake, who was on trial for killing his wife) at a party with no eyebrows. Madness ensues. Let it wash over you, feel it, grope your way through. Deciphering the narrative puzzle, as with much of Lynch’s work, is not the point.

Because the director always suggests watching a film rather than interpreting it, I’ll cite a passage from Lynch’s book, Catching the Big Fish, which is a rare, explicit insight into his inspiration: “At the time, Barry Gifford and I were writing the script for Lost Highway, and I was a little obsessed with the O.J. Simpson trial. Barry and I never talked about it in this way, but I think the film has something to do with it… What struck me about O.J. Simpson was his ability to smile and laugh. He was able to go play golf and seemed to have no problem with the whole thing. I wondered, how can a person go on living if they’ve done these things. We found a great psychological term—‘psychogenic fugue’—to describe a way the brain deceives itself to escape some horrific event. So, in a way, Lost Highway is about that. And, nothing stays hidden forever.”

Dark Night of the Soul (2010) Music is the heart and soul of so much of David Lynch’s art. Whether it’s covering Roy Orbison songs, making memorable Spanish-language versions (“Silencio!”), or working closely with composer Angelo Badalamenti and the dreamy singer Julee Cruise, his unique musical choices are more than just background scores. He’s had David Bowie in Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me and Nine Inch Nails’ frontman Trent Reznor create the score for Lost Highway. He’s also directed music videos for Moby, Interpol, and Chris Isaak’s “Wicked Game.”

Lynch explored his musical side on a number of personal projects (most recently, last year’s “Cellophane Dreams” with American singer Chrystabell), and contributed as a lyricist, producer, guitarist, and keyboardist to many more. An underrated gem in his discography is Dark Night of the Soul, an album made with esteemed producer Danger Mouse and the late great Sparklehorse. The album is layered, often melancholic, but incredibly beautiful, and features a host of star singers—including members of The Strokes, Flaming Lips, Pixies, The Shins, as well as Iggy Pop and Suzanne Vega.

Lynch compiled an accompanying photography book and sings on two of the album’s tracks: the dusty, noir-tinged title track, and “Star Eyes (I Can’t Catch It).” The former would fit right into one of his films, but the latter hits differently after his passing—an abstract expression of simple words (“Sun. Shine. Be. Mine. Back.”), delivered with wide-eyed optimism that lands with an unsettling poignancy.

David Lynch, Always Worth Quoting While it’s obvious that the film legend should be commemorated with the movies he gave us, it’s important to also acknowledge his creative influence outside of film. It would be remiss of us if we didn’t acknowledge his meme-appeal that runs so deeply through his legacy. He had no qualms about stating the obvious—from consumerism in movies to the weather outside—his quips and quotes were always incredibly down to earth, even if they were a bit cryptic most of the time.

One of the best Lynchian memes came from a 2007 lecture at the British Academy of Film and Television Arts. When asked to elaborate on why he considered his 1977 surrealist body horror film Eraserhead to be his “most spiritual film,” Lynch simply replied: “No.” When asked a probing question, Lynch said nothing, continuing to subvert expectations. Can you ever really know what’s going on in that enigmatic brain of his? As long-time collaborator and Agent Dale Cooper, Kyle MacLachlan, said, he was someone who was “in touch with something the rest of us wish we could access.” There’s relativity in the absurd, and so, a meme was born.

There are countless quotes in Lynch’s life journey that we’re privileged to enjoy forever, but it was this quote that his family cited when the news of his passing broke that stings the most: “Keep your eye on the doughnut, not on the hole.”