![]() ![]() No one has ever asked me about that, and I honestly had no idea it was written in that book. That is a really interesting question, and I am so glad you asked me that. In the book Lynch on Lynch, the director is quoted saying, “Rebekah knows Barbara Orbison, Roy’s second wife, and she’s the one who translated ‘Crying’ into Spanish.” How did your connection with Barbara come about? The balcony where the Blue-Haired Lady was seated in the film is still there. It just has a big space in the middle for people to get the new and improved versions of their Apple products. They renovated it in a way that is very beautiful, while preserving the gorgeous original architecture so it still really does look like the Tower. It’s still called the Tower Theatre, and Apple was at least good enough to honor the structure. “Mulholland Dr.” was actually filmed in one of those beautiful theaters, which is now an Apple store. That’s a great theater! I love all those art house theaters, and we have quite a few on Broadway in LA. We have a huge David Lynch fan base in Chicago, so having you accompany this screening of “Mulholland Dr.” in the year of its twentieth anniversary is going to be such a treat for audiences. Earlier this month, I had the pleasure of speaking at length with Del Rio, who clears up some key misinformation published in Chris Rodley’s revered book, Lynch on Lynch, while shining a light on the unsung hero behind the language of “Llorando.” Best of all, both screenings will be graced by the presence of Rebekah Del Rio, the captivating singer/songwriter who not only performed “Llorando” in the film but the equally hypnotic song “No Stars” alongside guitarist Moby on Part 10 of Lynch’s 2017 epic, “Twin Peaks: The Return.” Del Rio is currently on her No Hay Banda national tour to commemorate both the twentieth anniversary of “Mulholland Dr.” and the sixtieth anniversary of “Crying,” which will be celebrated on her upcoming vinyl album due for release in December. Perhaps no film demonstrates this principle with more breathtaking ingenuity than “Mulholland Dr.”, which will screen twice this month at Chicago’s gloriously Lynchian movie palace, the Music Box Theatre, as part of MUBI’s wonderfully curated Hollywood on Hollywood series. In its purest form, cinema serves as an extension of dreams in how it reconstructs fragments of our reality with an artifice that enables us to confront them in ways we couldn’t while fully awake. All three pictures center on characters who are stuck, in one way or another, thus causing them to drift into a parallel world of heightened visions that are not unlike those which caress the silver screen. This indelible sequence forms the broken heart of David Lynch’s 2001 masterpiece, “Mulholland Dr.”, the film that ranks alongside Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” and Stanley Kubrick’s “ The Shining” as my favorite of all time. A single, delicately placed tear lies frozen on her face as she begins to sing a cappella, “Llorando,” an utterly spellbinding Spanish translation of Roy Orbison and Joe Melson’s 1961 rock ballad, “Crying.” Though the eerily motionless audience has been cautioned that everything they are witnessing onstage is an illusion, the pain within the singer’s words feels wrenchingly real, causing two blonde women in the crowd to burst into tears. From behind the slightly parted red curtains, a woman steps out of the darkness and onto the stage of Club Silencio. ![]()
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