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I was hoping that, by the time I wrote this review—after repeated viewings—I'd have some answers for you regarding this mysterious and intriguing erotic thriller. Although I'm closer, the truth still remains a dim light at the end of Mulholland Dr. The resulting mild frustration and my eagerness to unlock the film's secret put it second on my list of favorites of 2001, right behind Hedwig and the Angry Inch.

It all starts with an accident. As the insert says, "An accident is a terrible thing . . . " A sultry, dark-haired woman (Laura Harring) sits in the back of a limousine winding down Mulholland Drive in what seem to be the wee hours. Her chauffeurs (why are there two of them?) pull off the road and, at gunpoint, order her to get out. Before she can, however, a car full of speeding teenagers crashes head-on into the limo, killing the drivers and leaving the woman with no memory of who she is. She wanders down the hill and sneaks into the apartment of a woman who's just leaving for vacation, only to be discovered the next day by the occupant's niece, Betty (Naomi Watts), a wannabe starlet fresh off the plane from Canada.

What happens after that has some semblance to coherence, but the viewer's mind must struggle to make the pieces of the puzzle fit. Betty and Rita (the name the amnesiac gives herself), with only a blue key and a purse full of money to lead the way, set out to solve the mystery of Rita's identity. The trail takes them to a dark apartment, where they find a woman's rotting corpse. With the director's signature bizarre characterization and exquisite mastery of mood, David Lynch winds us through their intimate search, which is somehow intertwined with one Adam Kesher (Justin Theroux), a director who's casting a film in which he's being forced (by an exaggerated cowboy and his unidentified boss) to give actress Camilla Rhodes (Melissa George) the lead.

A definite theme of controlling people, pulling strings, puppeteering, is laced throughout the film like arsenic; in the end, you find yourself scratching your head and trying to jump around on the DVD to make sense of it all.

But, the critics say, don't even try. You can't make sense of it. Why, then, has Universal published "Hints to Unlocking the Secret of Mulholland Dr." in the DVD booklet? They tell us to "notice the red lampshade, the robe." They ask, "Can you hear the name of the film Adam Kesher is casting?" They point out that "two hints are revealed before the credits." With these helpful clues, you'll get closer to understanding, but your mind is really just beginning to wrap itself around the film.

The picture is in the vein of most David Lynch films: very dark, velvety, with a lot of deep reds and warm interior colors, such as the walls in Betty's aunt's apartment. The black levels are deep, the skin tones very smooth, almost surreal in their luminance and texture, especially those of the Spanish singer (Rebekah Del Rio) at the theater. I noticed no significant flaws in the picture.

There are DTS and Dolby Digital 5.1 audio tracks, both of which sound great. The DTS seemed a bit more spacious, the DD a bit more warm and intimate. Angelo Badalamenti's haunting score goes even further to create the ambience of the film, climbing out of the speakers to creep into your home theater with hollow, haunting fluidity.

With the release of Mulholland Dr. on DVD, one might have expected to find some answers to this hypnotic masterpiece. Not so; in fact, the DVD doesn't even have chapters—you can't skip forward and back to compare scenes and thus begin the analytical process. And there are no extras for you to explore, which only further enshrouds this film in secrecy.

But I wouldn't have it any other way. I don't want this magician showing me his tricks. I'm willing to invest the hours in front of my set to get to the bottom of things. Are you?