This is an edited version of the journal I kept during the six months I worked on David Lynch’s Dune in Mexico, not so much a record of the production itself as my account of being adrift and alone on location in a big foreign city. It’s difficult for me now to identify with the person who wrote this: an inexperienced, insecure 28-year-old who knew very well that he was out of his depth, and was fully aware that he had been handed an amazing opportunity – if only he could figure out how to make the most of it! That insecurity comes through in the sometimes stridently defensive tone. Still, it may be of some interest as the perceptions of a naive observer involved in a monumental, troubled production … (read more)