David Lynch has died at the age of 78, leaving behind a life spent shaping art across cinema, music, and visual culture. Over nearly six decades he built a reputation as a singular filmmaker whose work stretched from film sets to painting studios and score rooms, echoing through North American art scenes. He smoked for roughly seventy years and was diagnosed with emphysema several years earlier, a condition that gradually limited his mobility and tethered him to an oxygen mask. He described growing difficulty moving around rooms last autumn. When wildfires swept through Los Angeles in January 2025, he was forced to evacuate his home, a moment many saw as the latest and most painful strain on his health. — Variety
Before his passing, Lynch had been developing Unscripted Night, but Netflix shelved the project. His final cinematic moment came as a cameo in Steven Spielberg’s The Fabelmans, where he appeared in a closing scene after agreeing to a small part in exchange for a bag of his favorite Cheetos. At the film’s end, a flash of John Ford’s image frames the moment, and Lynch offers a sly, self‑aware instruction on framing: “It’s interesting when the horizon is down. It’s interesting when the horizon is above. It gets very boring when the horizon is in the middle. Well, good luck to you. And get out of my office!” The cameo reads as a message from one generation of filmmakers to the next. — Variety
Death reframes the story of Lynch’s life, turning a quiet, guiding gesture into a symbolic passing of the torch for a new generation of creators. In private, he remained curious about continuing to direct from afar rather than retire completely, and colleagues say he planned future projects that might come from a distance. The moment is read as both a farewell and a reminder that cinema keeps moving forward, drawing on the past while inviting new voices to take the stage. — Variety
The ending of The Fabelmans lands as a comic counterpoint to Lynch’s usual terrain. His manic charisma shines through, and his remark about not pursuing acting to avoid eclipsing peers lands with an earned wink. John Ford, known for spare and austere storytelling, is rendered with playful irony against Lynch’s own texture‑rich and dreamlike cinema. The scene folds their differences into a single, memorable moment that hints at a larger truth: cinema thrives on dialogue between tradition and risk. — Variety
Bernardo Bertolucci once described cinema as coming from imaginary material, the stuff dreams are made of. Lynch’s work is often described as dreamlike because its logic moves in and out of clarity, joining the transportation hubs of Los Angeles with the forests of the Pacific Northwest and the planetary sands of Arrakis. The effect is world‑bending storytelling where place and meaning drift. — Variety
Talking about Lynch’s films in ordinary terms proves tricky. They invite immersion rather than explanation, and they tend to happen to viewers rather than be explained away. Yet he never shied from ordinary textures; he took a familiar detective premise and built Twin Peaks, a show that redefined television by splitting its era into before and after. The series remains a landmark because it elevated mood, mystery and character into a new kind of storytelling. — Variety
Lynch was a writer admired for both his art and his humanity. Even decades ago he showed a generosity of spirit and openness to experimentation that few could match, and his work remains a touchstone for fans who value courage and empathy. Twin Peaks, in particular, became a phenomenon that drew audiences worldwide, even as it faced polarizing reactions in different regions. His passing left a void in a community that treasured audacity and warmth. — Variety
In later years he kept creating beyond cinema: composing music, staging exhibitions, painting and building things that carried his unmistakable energy. He ran a YouTube channel where he posted weather updates and glimpses of life, always with his signature wit. In one August 2020 post he described low clouds over Los Angeles and teased that the future looked bright while wearing dark glasses. Those lines feel like a window into his mind—an artist who never stopped forecasting ideas or testing limits. — Variety
Today, the sense of a bright future is softer, but Lynch’s work continues to influence filmmakers, writers, and visual artists across Canada, the United States and beyond. His voice remains a North American touchstone, shaping how new generations think about memory, art and dreamlike storytelling. — Variety