Lynchian
Part of speech: adj
Morphological type: derivation
Etymology: From Lynch + -ian.
Base: Lynch
Affixes: -ian
Inflected forms:
form: more Lynchian
pos: adj
tags: comparative
form: most Lynchian
pos: adj
tags: superlative
Senses:
gloss: Of or pertaining to David Keith Lynch (1946–2025), American filmmaker and director whose surrealist films are characterized by dreamlike imagery, sound design, and narrative, juxtapositions of the mundane and the grotesque, and an air of mystery or unease.
pos: adj
examples: An academic definition of Lynchian might be that “the term refers to a particular kind of irony where the very macabre and the very mundane combine in such a way as to reveal the former's perpetual containment within the latter.” […] Jeffrey Dahmer, with his victim’s various anatomies neatly separated and stored in his fridge alongside his chocolate milk and Shedd Spread, was thoroughgoingly Lynchian. […] I've noted since 1986 (when Blue Velvet was released) that a good 65 percent of the people in metropolitan bus terminals between the hours of midnight and 6 A.M. tend to qualify as Lynchian figures-grotesque, enfeebled, flamboyantly unappealing, freighted with a woe out of all proportion to evident circumstances.
My relationship towards tulips is inherently Lynchian. I think they are disgusting. Just imagine. Aren't these some kind of, how do you call it, vagina dentata, dental vaginas threatening to swallow you?
Lynchian sound practice is even more specialised. A kind of aural uncanny is produced, with classic pop ballads occurring in unexpected places and an unlocatable industrial hum subsisting with—or even muffling—dialogue.
This is not the first time, however, that the Trump Presidency has put me in mind of the Lynchian world. The primal terror of Lynch’s films is an existential one, stemming from the ever-present possibility of things falling apart […] the volatility of the self and of reality. For Lynch, disruption is generative: trauma, the recurring subject of his films, can rupture the fabric of reality.
Lynchian is the go-to adjective to describe any sniff of the uncanny and esoteric on screen, from Donnie Darko to True Detective. It will never be a mainstream quality, but it exists explicitly in orientation towards the mainstream, often represented by the discordant versions of 50s Americana that appear so often in his work. And so his destabilising vision has become a common lens for discerning the truth about the “normal world”: that white picket fence America paints over deviant and sometimes evil obsessions, as in Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks, or that Hollywood is in fact a nightmare factory, as in Mulholland Drive and Inland Empire.
Mr. Lynch’s style has often been termed surreal, and indeed, with his troubling juxtapositions, outlandish non sequiturs and eroticized derangement of the commonplace, the Lynchian has evident affinities to classic surrealism.
Put it this way: “Lynchian” evokes the bland wholesomeness of an American Midwestern suburb, wrapped around something unnaturally vile — the discovery of five stray molars in a tuna casserole. A man kills his wife? Not Lynchian. A man kills his wife because she keeps buying the wrong peanut butter? Pretty Lynchian. If the cops stand around at the crime scene, discussing varieties of peanut butters and confessing that the murderous husband kind of had a point — well, that’s just pure Lynch.
But this moment has stuck with me because it felt perfectly Lynchian. For Lynch, answers were never the point. It was the questions that mattered. While other filmmakers tried to wrestle order out of chaos, compacting their stories into neat three-act structures, Lynch revelled in the tumult — that feeling that life is a beautiful, terrifying mystery.
If we triangulate these various assertions, one thing remains consistent: an uneasy pairing of discomfort and comfort, of the unfamiliar with the familiar, great love obfuscated by immense terror. These fusions of polarized elements should make for a tonally confusing vision, yet the Lynchian world manages to synergize them onto a mesmerizing razor's edge.
Lynchian worlds are enchanted (and haunted) worlds, permeable and multi-layered, filled with the unknown and the spiritual. In such spaces, viewers are invited to recognize that reality is much more vast than we might otherwise admit.
[…] his indistinguishable “Lynchian” aesthetic has once again become the subject of much attention. His dark, uncanny suburbia melds the nostalgic familiarity of cozy diners with the most profound perversions of our subconscious. […] that’s what is key to the Lynchian uncanny: this inexplicable discomfort in the seemingly beautiful and familiar.
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