Curiously enough, Roger Ebert loved it.

Rating: Null/10 (27 October 2001)

David Lynch shocked and awakened me with Blue Velvet, a hard act to follow. I have come to expect the unexpected from Lynch, so much so that I know exactly what's coming: a twist. It's like that Bugs Bunny cartoon in which the exasperated king cries out "Every day it's the same thing... VARIETY!" Of course, there are plenty of tantalizing morsels in every varied meal, but my palate has become jaded with Lynch. I am sure that Mr. Lynch realized this too. This might be the reason why he cleansed his palate with the wonderful The Straight Story. So now, with Mulholland Drive, Mr. Lynch delivers his most subtle balance between the sublime and the madness. In a nutshell, the dream state. Whereas Lost Highway is a nightmare that would awaken me perspiring halfway through, Mulholland Drive is like a long dream that fluctuates between the embers and the clouds, after which I wake up refreshed, with tears running down my cheeks and an intellectual afterglow, contemplating endless possibilities, even as my beloved dream irrevocably fades like a lifting fog to be lost forever.
A few random observations: -I am willing to bet that Mr. Lynch has been struck by Robert Altman's latter work, specifically Short Cuts. -Angelo Badalamenti has become subtler, with greater impact. -David Lynch is becoming the first and truest of American surrealist filmmakers. Someone we can be, and should be, proud of. -To compare Mr. Lynch with Federico Fellini is like comparing Jazz and Classical. -At best, Fellini makes me laugh while being mesmerized. At best, Lynch abruptly makes me cry with a smile.
Do I recommend Mulholland Drive? Yes, very much. But you'd better watch this film at least a couple of hours after your previous meal. You do not want to be sluggish while watching this one.
Kind regards from Mexico.