As if the title personal assistant to
David Lynch weren’t striking enough, the director of the documentary Lynch
(One) went and renamed himself blackANDwhite. For a couple years,
Mr. ANDwhite lived at the Lynch compound in the hills above L.A.,
fetching his employer coffee and cigarettes among other duties
necessary for the production of Inland Empire. He parlayed
this insider access into a flattering, completely authorized home
movie, a collection of fly-on-the-wall interviews and vignettes that
feels more like a product of the man centered in the frame than the
vision of the gopher wielding the digital camera.
Over the years, Lynch’s public persona has solidified into a series
of trustworthy riffs. He’s a small-town kid of the ’50s who never shook
the slang of his childhood, prone to phrases like “super!” and “thanks
a million!” He’s a genius who directs his crew and actors with cryptic
instructions. He’s a multimedia artist as content hammering away in a
wood shop as he is on a movie set. And he’s a fervent proponent of
transcendental meditation.
Lynch (One) doesn’t stray far from these generally accepted
personas. Lynch records his daily weather report for Davidlynch.com and prepares for Bastille
Day. He requests that an assistant bring to the set a 16-year-old girl
with one leg, a beautiful Eurasian woman, and a pet monkey. He puts the
finishing touches on a sculpture that looks like a hooker waiting at a
bus stop. There’s no mention of Lynch’s family and scant talk about his
life before Eraserhead. What’s on display here is Lynch’s work
life, not his private life, and so be it. It’s still pretty nifty to
watch a fellow carefully dip a suit jacket in lime-green paint. Hot
dog! 
Lynch (One) is being shown at Northwest Film Forum alongside a
restored print of Eraserhead and a program of Lynch’s rarely
screened short films. See Film Shorts, page 84, for
details.