Mutiny on the Bounty (1930s version)
Rebecca (Classic Hitchcock)
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
The Third Man (Orson Welles)
To Kill a Mockingbird (Gregory Peck)
Congrats on advertising the fact you're one of those pretentious jackasses that would look for the "deeper meaning" in a piece of dog shit.
I can hear David Lynch laughing at you for buying into the random vomit he throws up on the screen while counting his piles money from here.
Lynch isn't for everyone but accusing fans of liking him because they want to be perceived as "deep" is a bit of a stretch don't you think?
Blue Velvet, Mullholland Drive, etc. aren't deep; they're offbeat and open to interpretation; they're films made by a guy with a unique eye and distinctive style.
That's it. And what's wrong with that? He directs movies he wants to make, and he pays the price--shit box office receipts.
At its base, filmmaking is an art form. If you can get a studio to bankroll a project without a linear narrative and marginal mass market appeal, more power to you.
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