'Art of Life' an insightful look at genesis of filmmaker David Lynch

Jon Nguyen's biographical documentary does something strange, which shouldn't be a surprise given that his subject is the popular and disturbingly surrealistic filmmaker David Lynch.

"David Lynch: The Art of Life" takes the legendary Lynch from his earliest memories up to the set of his first film, the now cult classic "Eraserhead."

Why stop there and not mention the creepy "Blue Velvet," the disastrous "Dune," the mystifying "Mulholland Drive" or the bewildering TV series "Twin Peaks"?

Because Nguyen is only interested in the story of how a true artist finally, after years of isolation, frustration, ridicule and self-doubt, found his footing, his voice, his place and his purpose. He found them all on the set of "Eraserhead."

"I could imagine a whole world that didn't exist," Lynch says in voice-over narration. "I had tremendous freedom."

"The Art of Life" can't be accused of breaking new ground in nonfiction cinema.

Nguyen simply sat the filmmaker in front of a fancy microphone, let him talk for three years, then edited down recordings from 20 sessions and integrated archival footage, complemented by original footage of Lynch's life as a grandpa and canvas artist.

Lynch meanders all over the narrative landscape, recalling not just places and people, but feelings, impressions and observations of things he loved, hated and tolerated. (He did not want to live in Philadelphia, that's for sure.)

By the close of Nguyen's doc - perfectly timed at a fleet 93 minutes - we have witnessed the arduous process that an American visionary had to endure to find acceptance and how the pressures of family, community, friends, culture and personality would feed his creativity.

He vividly remembers the night that he, as a little boy, witnessed a naked woman emerge from the bushes near his home. She seemed dazed. He thought he saw blood coming from her mouth.

He wanted to help, but he was just a little boy.

Lynch never knew what happened that night.

But you can bet your Double R Diner that had a naked woman not appeared that fateful night, we might never have experienced his masterpiece "Blue Velvet."