Original subtitles

[MUSIC PLAYING]

DAVID LYNCH: If you want to make a feature-length film,

all you need to do is get 70 ideas, 70 scenes.

And you write these 70 scenes on three-by-five cards,

and you put them up.

And when you have 70 of them, you've got a feature film.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

I never considered myself a writer.

And I don't know how to spell.

I don't know how to type.

To me, writing is like a way just to remember ideas.

Schools have developed a formula.

This word, formula, in the department of writing

is like death penalty crime.

The thing, I think, should sort of

come naturally and feel good.

And that's just all of these ideas talking to you.

I think revising the writing is part of the process.

You don't want to be worried about how it comes out

when it's starting to flow.

But then as you go back later, when more and more has come in,

you see that, oh, that one is talking too much,

and it's getting weak.

And let's take those things out.

And this is much better.

Like that.

This is the thing about a formula, where they say that,

in the first--

it's a three-act formula, I think, or something like that.

And I don't know what the latest formula is.

But something happens, and then it gets into the nitty-gritty,

and then there's a resolution.

All stories need a beginning.

Where the middle is depends on where the end is, I guess.

But in a continuing story, there could be, theoretically,

no end.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

When it comes time to writing, I like to write.

What I mean is--

well, the last time I was really writing

was with Mark Frost on "Twin Peaks."

But at night, we would write over Skype, Mark

being in Ojai, California, and me being in Los Angeles.

And we worked during the day.

At night, because I smoke cigarettes,

my wife, Emily, would put me outside.

And I would face east.

And I would have yellow pads and a ballpoint pen,

black, and cigarettes and red wine, Bordeaux.

And I'd sit in this lawn chair and work like that.

And if you have a yellow pad on your lap and a ballpoint pen,

pretty soon that pen will start moving and words will come out.

And you get on a thing.

And I say even 90% can be worthless, horrible stuff.

But maybe as you're writing what you're seeing or thinking,

you'll catch a vein of gold, and a thing will start pouring out.

And that's sort of the way, I guess, it is.

You catch a vein.

It could be a character.

It could be a whole part of a story.

It could be a scene.

But you've got to be--

like in fishing-- with patience.

And you've got to have a pole, and a line, and a hook.

And you've got to be ready for it to come in.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Character comes from an idea.

Something that we see can trigger a character.

Something can happen in a daydream, where

a character will just walk in.

When they do come along, it's as if you always knew them.

They appear as if out of nowhere.

And again, it's like an idea.

It is an idea.

And you hear them talk.

You know them as if you've known them for a long time.

You know what they look like.

You know what they're wearing.

You know the way they are, how they speak-- fast or slow--

the timbre of their voice, the whole thing.

You know them.

And you write them down.

And even the words--

they come out.

They just come out.

They come out in a certain way, based

on that character that you know and who

they're interacting with.

A character is an idea, just like a location is an idea,

a mood is an idea, sound is an idea, music is an idea--

the way it needs to be based on the ideas that come.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

Mystery and detectives and cinema relate 100% to life.

Most of us, we don't know where we were before we were born.

We don't know for sure where we're going after.

We don't know why we're here.

We don't know much about anything.

We're floating on a ball in something

they call a universe on the edge of a galaxy with about 100

or 200 billion suns, and we are going to football games

and watching TV.

It's, like, pretty crazy.

It's the way it is.

But we're detectives, everybody.

We're looking around, when we have time.

Sometimes it's just before we go to sleep.

We start thinking maybe questions like, why am I here?

What is going on?

Or we see things in life, and we say, whoa.

Or we hear things and say, does that make sense?

Do you think that's true?

We use our intuition as detectives to see what's true

and what's false and try to figure out what's going on.

And I think that's one of the great things about detective

stories.

It relates to what life is telling us.

The ideas tell you everything.

And if you think it's imagination--

really, you say, I imagine.

By the time you got the word imagine out,

the ideas have already fed it to you.

It's not really you imagining it.

It's the flow of ideas.

And that's where daydreaming comes in.

Let's say there's a scene in a diner.

And the diner has all these windows, and it's the daytime.

And it's got the smell of cooking and coffee going.

Then sounds of the machines, and the refrigerator cooling

working, and the sounds of the Coke machine going sometimes,

the cash register, different things.

And people going around, people talking,

knives and forks, plates, formica, footsteps.

Outside, some sounds are coming in.

And the light is a certain way.

Say it's in the Northwest, so it's a kind of Northwest feel--

kind of a cooler, bluer light coming in.

It could still be--

sometimes can be warm and friendly.

But depending on what's going on,

you might want it to be bluer and colder.

Then you might have something on the jukebox that

fits in with the mood.

And yeah, it comes with the idea.

All these different things and the right mixture

can get the mood to be true to the idea.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

A script is organized ideas.

So the, say, future director picks up the script,

opens the script, and starts reading.

And when they're reading the script,

they're picturing things and hearing things.

What you're picturing and what you're hearing

and what you're feeling when you read that script--

it's just like catching ideas from the ether.

And you remember what you saw, what you heard,

and the feelings.

And those are your ideas now to follow.

And everything along the way of making the film,

you're trying to remember those feelings that came through

from the words, and what you saw and felt, and the mood.

And the way people talked, and the way they were,

what they were wearing.

And the things in the room.

All these things now are your guide to making the film.

And stay true to every part of that thing that

came in your mind, because you fell in love with it.

That's the thing you want to do.

You've got the idea.

You're in love with the idea.

All your ideas are together, say, in a script.

Now you go and you start putting all the elements together

to make that idea a reality in the material world.

A film is made up of many, many, many elements.

So you have to be true to every single little tiny element

in order to have a chance that the whole will hold together.

And even so, if you're really true to every element

and not walk away until they feel correct based on the idea,

you can get a magical thing-- that they say,

the whole is greater than the sum of the parts.

A magic thing can happen when these elements swim together.

And boom, it's the magic of cinema.

Anyone who reads a script, this same thing is happening.

But now this is the one who's going to make the film.

So this one is picturing this, and hearing this,

and this like this for him or herself.

Now the filmmaker's job is to get all the people that

are going to help to help get this thing out of the head

onto the screen.

And that's going to involve talking

to different departments and getting

them to get the right clothes, the right light,

the right this, the right that.

So now this was alive in here, and now it's

going to be alive on the screen.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

If it's new to you, it's new.

They say there's nothing new under the sun.

If it's new to you, and you love the world, then you go.

When is it OK to borrow?

I guess it depends on borrowing or stealing.

And so in "Wild at Heart," Sailor and Lula--

it just started creeping in that they

just love "The Wizard of Oz" and would make references to it.

Because they loved it, like so many other people.

But it kind of was strange that Sailor would like it,

but it makes sense to me.

It was a little bit stealing, I guess,

but it made sense to the characters.

And in my mind, it honors this great film,

"The Wizard of Oz," which is a film that's caused people

to dream now for decades.

And there's something about "The Wizard of Oz" that's cosmic.

And it talks to human beings in a deep way.

[VIDEO PLAYBACK]

THE GOOD WITCH: Sailor.

Sailor.

The Good Witch.

Sailor Ripley, Lula loves you.

But I'm a robber.

I'm a manslaughterer.

And I haven't had any parental guidance.

THE GOOD WITCH: She's forgiven you all these things.

You love her.

Don't be afraid, Sailor.

But I'm wild at heart.

If you're truly wild at heart, you'll fight for your dreams.

Don't turn away from love, Sailor.

Don't turn away from love.

[END VIDEO PLAYBACK]

That's Sheryl Lee, who's also Laura Palmer.

It's perfect that she floats down.

I said, are you afraid of heights?

And she said, no, because she didn't want to say the truth.

She's desperately afraid of heights.

We had her strung up really high.

Fred Elmes did a great job lighting that.

He had this pool of water on plexiglass

and was dancing lights.

And it was really, really beautiful.

And Sailor and The Good Witch did a beautiful job.

Barry Gifford-- the book ends not in a happy way.

And nobody wanted it to end in an unhappy way.

And that's when The Good Witch really came

in and saved the day.

Barry was really, really, really great to work with.

Because he didn't care--

I always say, Barry's books, I love.

But they're very minimal.

The chapters are short, and they're minimal.

And it's a certain way he writes.

His writing has just got these seeds

that sprout and go off in all different directions.

So he said, David, you do whatever you want.

And there'll be David Lynch's "Wild at Heart"

and Barry Gifford's "Wild at Heart."

He was just really generous in that way.

But his book, I loved, and it inspired what came out.

[MUSIC PLAYING]

When you're just starting out, it's very difficult.

Unless you're from a wealthy family,

it's very difficult to have the time and materials

to live the art life.

So you have to live the art life around whatever job

you have to earn money to eat and have a place

to live and work.

And it's tough.

But all the time that you're working to earn that money,

you can be thinking.

And you can be saving up your money

and getting those materials and as much time

as you can to dedicate to your work--

your work, which is the artwork.

When I started out, all I wanted to be was a painter.

And you don't need a lot of money to be a painter.

I raised money by delivering prescriptions for a place,

Herder's Drugstore in Alexandria, Virginia.

And my father made a deal with me.

I wanted to get a studio.

He said he'd pay for half if I earned the money

and paid for the other half.

So I delivered prescriptions at night in a red and white Jeep

and made enough money just working a couple nights a week

to get a studio, where I'd go after school and work

until late at night.

So I've had to do things to earn money,

but I've got what I call a setup.

A setup is a place to work and the tools and materials

to do the work.

So if you're interested in painting,

you need a place to paint, and you need paints.

And you need to get all this stuff together and the space.

And then you call it a painting studio.

Every single thing that we do, we

need a place and machines or materials or equipment

to make it happen.

You asked about this little bungalow

I had on Rosewood Avenue.

I was there during a time when gasoline was $0.27 a gallon.

I had a paper route.

I delivered the "Wall Street Journal."

I picked up my papers at 11:30.

And I made $200 a month.

That was plenty of money to live.

And I built a shed on the side of the bungalow

for a little, tiny workshop.

I built some sheds in the yard.

And I had the ability to make things.

I still didn't have enough money to paint

the way I wanted to paint.

AFI, at the time I went--

the Center for Advanced Film Studies--

was housed in the Greystone Mansion,

a 55-room mansion in the best part

of Beverly Hills, California.

At night, no one was there.

And I got to take over the stables.

I had a mini studio for four years.

I had all the equipment I could ever dream of.

I had rooms for storage of equipment.

I had places outside to build sets.

I had a setup like you cannot believe for four years.

And I even lived there.

I lived in Beverly Hills, California, on about a nickel

a week.

It was beautiful.

And what we called the food room,

where we ate, when I finished a pack of matches,

I would do drawings on the inside.

They're abstract, but these are all Italian Renaissance

drawings.

These have been found and collected,

and now they're all framed.

They're really beautiful little things.

So these are my matchbook drawings

from the days of "Eraserhead."

My friend, Bushnell Keeler, who really

was an inspiration in the early days,

said, an artist needs at least four hours

of uninterrupted, guaranteed uninterrupted, time

to get one good hour of painting done.

And this is so true.

Every interruption just is like a knife stab in the middle

of thought and getting into it.

And you've got to start again.

You start again.

It's horrible.

These days, there's interruptions

around every corner, almost every second.

I've said that you have to be somewhat selfish.

But selfishness, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder.

If you're with the right people, it cannot be seen so much

as selfishness.

It can be seen as that's your work in life,

and you need the time and the materials to do it.

But you have to protect that space and that time,

or you won't get anything done.