ROME, ITALY - NOVEMBER 04: David Lynch walks the red carpet during the 12th Rome Film Fest at Auditorium Parco Della Musica on November 4, 2017 in Rome, Italy. (Photo by Ernesto S. Ruscio/Getty Images)

We needed David Lynch now more than ever

Legendary filmmaker David Lynch’s untimely passing hit people hard, for many reasons. For as uncomfortable and dark as his films could be, Lynch himself seemed to be filled with empathy for the human experience—and love for humanity itself. Those kinds of artists are increasingly rare. We needed Lynch now more than ever.

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Lynch’s work encapsulates the entire human experience: its ugliness, its beauty, its peculiarities. It’s difficult to look as deeply as Lynch did into the darkness of humanity and come out the other side not drenched in despair, lamenting human nature. But Lynch, by all accounts, loved people and loved the little peculiarities of life. His empathy for humanity is the foundation of his work. When you watch a Lynch film (or series), it sticks with you for hours, if not days—but it doesn’t give you a sinking feeling.

Somehow, that’s perfectly in tune with famous clips of Lynch himself, who was the kind of guy for whom something as simple as “two cookies and a Coke” was treasured as “phenomenal.”

The empathy of Lynch’s work was its secret ingredient

Twin Peaks is often lauded as David Lynch’s most “approachable” work. And yet, neither series of Twin Peaks ends happily. One ends with a possession and bathroom incident that haunted viewers for decades. The other ends, quite poetically, with a scream.

So many directors would pair cynicism or scorn for humanity with human folly. Not Lynch. Lynch seems to mourn and empathize with the human condition. In fact, part of the reason Twin Peaks in particular is so beloved is that it is abound with so many moments of humorously celebrating humanity’s peculiarities. Humor and horror co-exist in a very particular way, as two sides of the same coin—to create either effect is simply a matter of exaggerating our strangeness. Who can forget, in the very first episode, the horror of finding Laura Palmer’s dead body coupled shortly thereafter with Pete lamenting, “There’s a fish in the percolator.”

Even the most uncomfortable or intense sequences of films like Eraserhead and Blue Velvet provide contrast to later show Lynch’s empathy. The first time I saw Eraserhead, I was in a theater, and I remember the film’s slow build of tension becoming almost unbearable. And then, suddenly, a strange woman in a radiator was singing, “In heaven, everything is fine.” It was a strange release—but a release all the same. Its weirdness somehow made it all the more beautiful and empathetic.

Lynch’s lessons to learn

The idea that Lynch’s film have a humanity that counterbalance their darkness is backed up by his actual life. The man set up a foundation to teach kids—and, later, prison inmates, the homeless, and other at-risk populations—transcendental meditation. Lynch’s empathy has been echoed in the touching tributes have poured forth from his collaborators, including actors he worked with time and again, like Laura Dern and Kyle McLaughlin. Nic Cage told Deadline he “never had more fun on a film set.”

But my favorite tribute to Lynch comes from a fan who went to Bob’s Big Boy to honor Lynch’s passing and posted their experience on X. The fan’s waitress was confused as to who died and why everyone was suddenly ordering shakes, so they showed her Lynch’s picture. The waitress had no idea who David Lynch, Filmmaker was, but got visibly sad and said, “Him? He was the nicest customer, came in and ordered the same thing everyday.”

One reason people are so sad that Lynch passed is because his works are fully his own, and all the more remarkable for it. His artistic voice is so unique, it spawned a new adjective. It’s also a refreshing change of pace to find out that your hero was, by all accounts, a good person.

But I’d wager that another reason we’ll miss him is because, in an era where things are feeling dark and people have to actively seek out hope, David Lynch was able to find joy in the smallest things. Sure, it’s funny that Lynch got so pumped over “two cookies and a Coke,” but it’s also worthy of deep respect. I would like to get to a place where my joie de vivre is so healthy that two cookies and a Coke thrill me so deeply.

Lynch’s ability to look squarely at humanity’s darkness and come out optimistic was a skill, plain and simple. And perhaps that ability will be the one most sorely missed—and, therefore, the lesson from Lynch’s work that we should take the most to heart. May we find the courage to see “blue skies all the way.”


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Kirsten Carey
Kirsten (she/her) is a contributing writer at the Mary Sue specializing in anime and gaming. In the last decade, she's also written for Channel Frederator (and its offshoots), Screen Rant, and more. In the other half of her professional life, she's also a musician, which includes leading a very weird rock band named Throwaway. When not talking about One Piece or The Legend of Zelda, she's talking about her cats, Momo and Jimbei.