A. [I am a spider, and I must rest and build strength before weaving another web. This is true of all spiders. Read the Upanishads.]
Q. Yeah, but so why don't you make another movie, David?
A. [Because lately I've been feeling how James Joyce would have felt if he hadn't passed away so soon after the publication of Finnegans Wake. A real sense of how could I possibly proceed from here, now that I've kicked out all the jams I can kick out without leaving the bounds of narrative filmmaking?]
Q. The fans are wondering whether you'll make another movie.
A. [INLAND EMPIRE wasn't enough for them? I mean, I know some of them didn't like the look, and that everybody pro or con found it baffling, but is there anything else remotely like it? It's so scary and joyous and deeply smart about our globalized, media-glutted age, certainly more right-on than the movies that have tried to get at what's in the air by less oblique means. I built a massive house of fiction for people to lose themselves in, with so many possible routes of entry and egress that it's nigh impossible to have the same experience with it twice. I left in some of my duds and doodles, too, because I was after something more interesting than a masterpiece--a movie about the creative process that really reflects how wild and reckless and spooky the act of creation can be.]
Q. We're not saying we didn't like INLAND EMPIRE. We respected it, and Laura Dern was amazing. But we're still wondering why you don't make another movie.
A. [Why don't YOU make another movie? That's all INLAND EMPIRE was really trying to say.]
Q. Why not another one, David? For old time's sake.
A. [Okay, fine. Here you go:
Q. That's like a minute long, David.
A. [Sorta fugged up though, right?]