Duwayne Dunham’s career is storied across mediums. In film, he’s built a lifelong creative partnership with some of the greats, and his editing hand has touched some of the biggest films of a generation: beginning as an assistant editor on Star Wars, his impact later stretched to the late mastermind David Lynch’s iconic film Blue Velvet and legendary TV show Twin Peaks.
Released just months after Lynch’s untimely death, it somehow feels like karmic justice that his final project (he produced Dunham’s film) was directed by a lifelong friend and collaborator. Legend of the Happy Worker stars Josh Whitehouse (a familiar face for fans of Amazon Prime hit Daisy Jones & The Six) as Joe, one of the whistling workers led by Goose (Thomas Haden Church). Absurdly, Joe and the other men are digging a hole for a never-defined reason — the film’s point being that it isn’t about getting to the destination of a capitalistic “pot of gold” but about what the act of working does to corrode a soul. With its satirical charm and commentary on capitalism, Happy Worker examines the why of work as life pressures increasingly suffocate those in our society.
After its world premiere at the Locarno Film Festival, Dunham sat down with me to discuss his process as a fable-minded filmmaker, the cultivation of the film’s satirical economic commentary, and directing Lynch’s final cinematic project.
Bella Vega: The story of this film was passed to you by the late David Lynch decades ago. How did your interpretation evolve over time, and what is your favorite part of the visual language you’ve created with this film?
Duwayne Dunham: My interpretation of the story has not changed much over the years since Lynch introduced me to the material. What has changed is the state of the world. I believe that every story has a particular time in history where it resonates the most. And I believe that right now, the story of Happy Worker is at that crucial point in time. It is such a simple story, and it poses such a simple question: “Why?” In the crazy, mixed-up world we are living in today, it is a question that allows us to think.
BV: As someone with a historic editing background (from Blue Velvet to Twin Peaks) who also directed many Disney features, how did you combine these types of storytelling — from recognizably aesthetic to folkloric — when directing this fable-like film?
DD: I think every storyteller has within [them] an innate DNA. Mine seems to be a Disney sort of thing. In fact, when Lynch asked me to edit Blue Velvet, I initially told him that the story was not “my cup of tea.” He replied: “What do you mean, it’s not your cup of tea?” I said, “Well, I am sort of a Disney kind of guy!” Blue Velvet certainly was not a Disney sort of story, but it was a good story — a story made that much better by David’s directing!
BV: How did you navigate the balance between the film’s highly stylized, Western aesthetic and the satirical edge about labor, automation, and progress? Given the current landscape, what message did you want to leave with this film?
DD: The look and feel of the film was very important to me. I wanted the familiar look of an old Western, but the feel of a fairy tale. The story has its own edge to it — I just needed to serve it up in a familiar way. I always wanted this story to cause an audience to think about the film afterwards and to generate discussion. It is a simple film that poses a simple question, a tiny three-letter word: “Why?” And to that I say: “Why anything?”
BV: The setting is timeless small-town Americana, void of guns but full of earnest labor. What guided your choice to maintain a softer, more sincere gaze on this world? How did your actors help you build that world?
DD: The setting is familiar. The trick was to show that the workers lead a simple life, or so it seems on the surface. When posed with a question no one had seemingly ever asked, the onion begins to peel away, and the answer they are looking for may not be as straightforward as they had hoped. An onion can be tangy sweet, but it can also make you cry. I love this cast, and I love the workers. I simply set the table for them and told them to trust the words. Everybody was enthusiastic and gave a lot of good, honest energy to their role.
BV: You edited the film yourself due to a last-minute change. What did that hands-on process bring to the rhythm and emotional resonance of the story?
DD: That is true. I did not intend to edit the film myself, but when my editor became ill and had to excuse himself, I had to reassess the situation. My long-time assistant, Mathias Hilger — who is super talented and a very good editor in his own right — was helping him, so I figured that he and I would cut the film ourselves. I will tell you this: this film is by far the most difficult film I have ever edited. That is because there is very little plot, and the story is very simple. Because of the subtlety and nuance, we had to be very careful with how we shaded things. A bit too much in this direction, or that, and the whole thing would fall apart. In the end, I brought in my dear friend Marcia Lucas [ex-wife of George Lucas, editor of Lucas’ Star Wars, American Graffiti, and supervising editor of Martin Scorsese’s Taxi Driver and New York, New York] to have a look. Marcia knows story better than anyone I know, and she was extremely helpful in helping craft the final version of the film.
BV: What is your favorite memory from filming this?
DD: That is a very good question. The best memory is when the film was finally finished and presented to an audience. That feeling of satisfaction that we survived and endured many hardships along the way — things an audience is not aware of, nor should they be. But to the filmmaker, that is also the saddest moment, because it is over. Every film has a birth and death cycle, and that is why filmmaking can be a very melancholy experience.
This interview has been lightly edited for clarity.
