Industrial Symphony No. 1: The Dream of the Brokenhearted

In a celebrated career most recognized for film and television productions, David Lynch nevertheless explored other mediums over time, including music, art, and even comics. With his propensity for oddball surrealism and offbeat humor there was hardly any telling in general what we'd get from one project to another - so what about an endeavor which combined visual art, film, live stage performance, dance, and music in front of a live audience? Even as this, recorded for posterity, features contributions from Nicolas Cage ('Wild at heart'), and notable ongoing collaborators including Angelo Badalamenti, Laura Dern, Julee Cruise, and Michael J. Anderson, 'Industrial symphony No. 1' has in subsequent years gone rather unremarked among Lynch's more famous productions. I can understand why insofar as the amalgamation is primed for a more niche audience even on paper. And once one begins watching, well, it definitely fits in quite well alongside the man's other pieces, which depending on one's perspective either makes it a treasure or a pestilence.

For my part, I plainly think it's a treasure, and an underappreciated one. Given Lynch's vision, the familiar names and faces involved, and the ardor and imagination of the production, this absolutely feels kith and kin with the most far-out, head-scratching portions of 'Twin Peaks' (pick your iteration), 'Mulholland Drive,' 'Lost highway,' or 'Inland Empire'; especially given Cruise's role, maybe reference to 'Eraserhead' and the Lady in the Radiator is just as appropriate. The opening sequence, seemingly inspired by Lula and Sailor from 'Wild at heart,' is the most ordinary that this performance gets as the presentation subsequently melts into an enigmatic, nightmarish dreamscape of music, sounds, and imagery. Clamorous sound effects, flicking atmospheric lighting, industrial set dressing (metal girders; a burned-out car), actors on ropes, and dancers among it all mix together with a slurry of music ranging from ethereal pop, and jazz-like musings to haunting synth-driven soundscapes, harsh industrial noise, and various other instrumentation both conventional and atypical.

Oh yes, it's very strange. This is Art of the variety that, more than anything else, invites the audience to feel what they will, and read into and take away from it what they will, and perhaps above all to simply relish in the wonder of it all. There IS a very broad sense of cohesion and an even looser sense of "story" as the odyssey is conceived as the dreams of a woman whose lover just left her - hence the alternate name, 'Dream of the broken hearted' - and to some extent also in the familiar comfort of those songs for which Cruise sings. That smattering of unity is handily outpaced, however, by the sheer whimsy of what greets us. Exactly how much one appreciates 'Industrial symphony No. 1' will depend on how well one can get on board performance art of such an avant-garde, experimental nature. And still, be all that as it may, even as I personally love it, I don't think there's any arguing that it's very well done in and of itself. The stage direction is terrific as all the many disparate parts are woven together very well, including the acting, dance choreography, stunts, effects, choice lighting, and more. I certainly admire John Schwartzman's cinematography that adeptly, tastefully captures everything on film for us, and to the same point, Mary Sweeney and Bob Jenkis' editing is as bright and flavorful as everything else. And that's to say nothing of the sound effects, or the music, which even at their most cacophonous are a rich, integral component of the viewing experience.

Existing as this does on the outer fringes of creativity and its respective art forms, it's difficult to entirely grasp the whole, let alone to try to compare it to anything else. Those who are receptive to the weirder side of theater are most likely to find this to their appeal, right alongside those who are already enamored of Lynch and his one of a kind brilliance. For as curious as it is, though, the sum total is deeply entrancing, to the point that it really does feel like we've stumbled into a dream - and maybe that is the surest sign of success. One should know that this is well removed from any easy frame of reference, but for those open to all that film, television, theater, music, and art have to offer, 'Industrial symphony No. 1' is a delight that pleases from beginning to end, and I'm happy to give it my hearty recommendation.

Ever wondered what it would be like if David Lynch put on a musical stage show with Julee Cruise? Look no further! Industrial Symphony is a supremely strange show put together by David Lynch and Angelo Badalamenti for the annual Brooklyn Academy of Music. They only had two weeks to prepare for the show, and so the result is rather remarkable.

It opens with Sailor and Lula from Wild at Heart on the phone, with Sailor leaving Lula. The rest of the film is an extended fever dream set on stage. It reminded me of a concert, only this is a concert by David Lynch so there's awful blonde wigs, half naked women gyrating on cars and dwarfs sawing logs. I found it rather fabulous.

Julee's vocals are incredibly haunting and hypnotic. Match this with the visuals David presents us and it feels incredibly nightmarish. There's a moment where Julee stops and screams mid-song and falls from the rope suspending her from the ceiling. It's so jarring and it actually scared me a little bit. It doesn't help that she turns into some 30ft skinned papier-mâché deer either.

The whole thing wouldn't have felt out of place if it appeared as a scene in Inland Empire, so that gives you an idea of its mesmerising weirdness. For Lynch fans, it's unmissable. For everyone else, it isn't.

There are two sides to Lynch. One is the master who works in long, abstract form and gives us not just a world and some plot that takes place there but a world together with the mind that gives rise to it, creates agency from that mind that is itself at the mercy of that world.

The other is the art school student, painter, sculptor, all around quirky guy who loves to populate these abstract forms with scrapyard theatrics and figures, log ladies and black-faced monsters behind the corner. It takes both of these Lynches to give us the truly mind-bending stuff that haunt.

Here we have just the second Lynch. He got together with Angelo Badalamenti, secured a soundstage and staged a performance piece around dreamlike heartbreak. We have bodies suspended on strings, a midget who recites, a demonic figure dancing on stilts. Various hues of light, beams and flashes, an industrial feel. The good witch from Oz sings throughout.

It has something akin to purpose, framed as it is as Lula and Sailor breaking up at the start, it was probably something he had fun with for a few weeks after finishing Wild at Heart. But it's a thin agency and mostly these forms mingling on a scrapyard stage, a bout of eccentricity.

He would do a lot more of these in later years when he could just grab a digital camera, but it's when both Lynches are at work that I'm interested.

This is a fantastic production that caught my eye because of my long love of 'Twin Peaks.' Although it is actually unrelated to the show, 'Dream' has enough elements of 'Peaks' to make it seem to be an extension of the series. Julee Cruise, the otherworldly bar singer in 'Peaks,' stars as the dream-self of an otherwise average woman whose heart has been broken. Other familiarities from the series include Michael J. Anderson (the "little man from another place"), the song "Into the Night," and the instrumental "Bookhouse Boys" used as the background to "Up in Flames." I greatly enjoyed this fifty-minute trek back into the surrealism and sound that made the series so unique.

A description of this project can only be, like descriptions of Lynch's other more obtuse works ("Inland Empire," "Lost Highway," "Fire Walk With Me" "Rabbits") a description of "what happens" during the running time, which is more or less a useless venture. Try to describe what you dreamed last night to a friend and watch his eyes glaze over. One would hope that someone watching this video has a vague idea what to expect...you don't go for a viewing of something by Lynch hoping for "Singing In The Rain" at the least.

This project is definitely "out there," and like the other films mentioned is more or less non-narrative, more like a tone poem...what "meaning" there is to be found is probably up to the individual viewer. As I've said before about Lynch, only the dreamer of the dream can really guess accurately what any of it "means" to him, our experience can only be what the artist has filtered through. So what do we have? First and foremost, this recording, culled from two live performances Lynch was apparently commissioned to do, contains some of the wonderful, spooky songs written for and recorded by the ethereal Julee Cruise. The pyrotechnics, flashes of lighting, metal-on-metal surroundings, frustrated sexuality and typically Lynchian sound effects evoke an "industrial" dread that pre-sages Cronenberg's "Crash" a few years later. It is by turns perversely sexual, horrifically surreal, sweetly sentimental and slightly dull, and all within 50 minutes. The possible highlight is a song that plays like a sad lament for a lost era of 50's doo-wop, with two blasé prom-dressed girls and a chorus of vivacious Vegas showgirls.

This is "Lynch-land," and if you like Lynch you'll probably enjoy it, if not you would probably find it pure torture...it looks a bit "90's" by today's standards, it is relentlessly dark and slow at times and I question how much forethought actually went into it (Lynch himself claims it was put together pretty fast) but it is inherently memorable...one is unlikely to forget some of the strong images, or the plaintive sighing of Julee as she floats through the air, the embodiment of an innocent heart broken, but not destroyed.