lynchsked It’s September of 1986, and a 10-year-old boy is jumping up and down because his favorite filmmaker has just come out with a new movie. His father, always happy to take the kid to the picture show, drives him out to the Del Amo Mall. They stop at the snack bar. Popcorn—check. Candy—check. They settle into their seats. The lights go down. The film is Blue Velvet.

But before casting judgment on the complete lack of parental guidance exemplified by a man taking his 10-year-old to a movie ripe with profanity and sadomasochism, consider this: my mind was blown that day. The experience set in motion a deep fascination with and passion for what would now be classified as “art house cinema.” To me, Blue Velvet was the equivalent of a cinematic rollercoaster, and I wanted to ride every film like it. I wanted to have my mind blown.

The rest, as they say, is history. Lynch led to Kubrick. With some help from my sister, Kubrick led to Ken Russell. Russell led to Cronenberg, Cronenberg led to Argento, flash-forward to Takashi Miike. And nearly 25 years later, at the Mondo Celluloid film series I curate on Friday midnights at the Art Theatre, March of 2011 is David Lynch Month— my first-ever month-long series dedicated to the work of one filmmaker.

WHY IS DAVID LYNCH one of my heroes? I suppose the root of my fandom goes back to ON-TV, a subscription cable service of the late 1970’s that was a precursor to HBO and the hundreds of paid cable channels that have come since. Back then, ON-TV was pretty much the only way to see films uncut and commercial-free on television—and since my family didn’t get its first VCR until 1984, I was an ON-TV addict.

People who remember ON-TV probably recall that the station was licensed to show only a very limited number of films, and those films were repeated ad nauseum; I watched The Cannonball Run more times than any six-year-old reasonably should.

But in 1981, ON-TV started showing The Elephant Man, and I was hooked. I couldn’t have possibly known why, but I was just obsessed with this movie, which both terrified and stirred the heck out of me. John Merrick’s tragically disfigured face and John Morris’ beautiful score haunted me in nightmares, yet I couldn’t keep from watching, and found myself disturbed and crying virtually every time the film came to its disturbing conclusion. I was a weird kid—I actually used to sketch pictures of the Elephant Man when my mind would start to wander … which was often. And as I watched the film over and over, there was the credit: Directed by David Lynch.

It wasn’t until one year later that I learned what that meant. When E.T. The Extra Terrestrial took the world by storm and Steven Spielberg’s name was mentioned with any and all promotion of the film, I began to appreciate there was a person behind a movie. I decided my heroes were Steven Spielberg and David Lynch, even though The Elephant Man was the only Lynch film I’d seen—and it was probably for the best at the time that I had not yet seen his previous feature.

So in 1984, when everyone was freaking out over the return of some Jedi, I was excited that David Lynch had a new movie coming out called Dune. By the time the film was released around Christmas, I was admittedly too high off the rush of Ewoks to get into the headier dreamscapes of Dune—I found the movie entertaining and visually stunning, but lacking in lightsabers and Hutts.

But then, two years later, came Blue Velvet. I’d experienced nothing quite like the experience of watching it—what, in real life, comes close? What would you ever want to come close? Did I totally understand it? Maybe not, but it exhilarated me like nothing had, and generally you find out what exhilarates you quite by accident, and more often than not, it comes as a great surprise.

When Blue Velvet hit VHS, I rented it, and with great enthusiasm, showed it to my mother. She simultaneously enjoyed the film and voiced her concerns about my psychological well-being. I’m sure she took some comfort in the fact that I also loved films like D.A.R.Y.L., The Secret of NIMH, and—a personal favorite—Race for Your Life, Charlie Brown.

BUT EVERY ONCE IN AWHILE I need my cinematic fix, and I know others need theirs, too. That’s why March is David Lynch Month at Mondo Celluloid—even though there are several filmmakers whose repertoire would have well fit the midnight setting: David Cronenberg, John Carpenter, Dario Argento.

Actually, the exact month was chosen during a conversation with Garry Booth, founder of Long Beach’s Phone Booth Gallery, who curates our series of Mondo Midnight film prints (available here). When Garry decided to invite local artists to create and submit prints inspired by Lynch’s films for a special show, he asked if I would be interested in pairing his event with the screening of a Lynch film. As Garry set the wheels of “Oh You Are Sick… An Art Show Dedicated to the Films of David Lynch,” I set off to locate a 35mm print of Eraserhead, Lynch’s 1977 feature film debut, and a midnight cinema staple that surprisingly hasn’t been screened in our series.

The thrill of the upcoming art show and Eraserhead screening (which will take place back-to-back this Saturday, March 12), and the incredible response that Garry received from local artists, led me to book another Lynch film, Blue Velvet—then Lost Highway, and finally, Wild at Heart, winner of the Grand Prix Award (Best Picture) at the 1990 Cannes Film Festival. A midnight film fest was born.

The icing on the cake came from a conversation with Alfredo’s Beach Club founder Fred Khammar. We’ve been lining up a series of movie classics that will screen for free at Cherry Beach every Monday night this summer (we’re also trying to line up local sponsors; please contact me if you can help there). But noticeably absent from the Lynch lineup was Dune, the 1984 Academy Award nominee based on the science-fiction novel by Frank Herbert.

Although the beach series doesn’t begin until June, I asked Fred if we could host a one-time event tying into this month’s Lynch series at the Art. The answer? Dune will be screened for free on Monday, March 14, in just about the perfect way to experience it—on Cherry Beach, and under the stars.

And  it all began for me with Blue Velvet, which was sort of a gateway drug to a wonderfully rewarding lifelong addiction. I credit my father for not censoring the films I chose to see; the infinite possibilities of story, mood, craft, and effect inherent in cinema has long been my deepest and most enduring inspiration.

And of course, David Lynch followed with films like Wild at Heart and Mulholland Drive, and the magnificent television show Twin Peaks—easily the best first season of a TV show ever. The seemingly effortless ability of these films to shock, humor, provoke and even titillate continue to stir and shake me—and Lynch’s countless devoted fans–to the core. David Lynch’s films are haunting in the most literal sense – they may not be “horror” films, but they follow you home, lingering, teasing the id, stirring strange feelings of guilt, as if you were just witness to something you should be ashamed of, or that in some way you’re more connected to as a human being than you thought.

Perhaps it’s Lynch’s way to make everything feel like a dream. Perhaps it’s his skill at making even the most horrific moments somehow absurdly hilarious. Whatever the case, he is a true master of his craft, and with new projects including the oft-played-on-KCRW single “Good Day Today”—yes, the man sings as well!—he seems to show no signs of stopping.

Here’s to you, David Lynch. To quote Blue Velvet at its most vile and sublimely profound, “You put your disease in me. It helps me—it makes me strong.”

Logan Crow is the Founder and Executive Director of the Long Beach Cinematheque, a non-profit organization dedicated to celebrating classic and independent cinema by programming film screenings and multimedia community events throughout Long Beach. For more information, visit lbcinema.org.