These are the best rooms in David Lynch’s cinematic universe

David Lynch, the visionary filmmaker behind Twin Peaks and Blue Velvet, died last week at the age 78. His family announced his death on social media, marking the end of a five-decade career that earned him four Oscar nominations and an honorary Academy Award for lifetime achievement in 2019.

From the iconic Red Room in Twin Peaks to Club Silencio’s haunting theatre in Mulholland Drive, Lynch created some of cinema’s most memorable and psychologically-charged spaces. His genius lay in manipulating basic design elements to evoke powerful emotional responses, making interior spaces characters in their own right. Little surprise, he made furniture in his spare time.

We’ve rounded up our favourite rooms from Lynch’s cinematic universe – spaces that showcase his mastery of mental architecture and how he forever changed how we think about space on the silver screen.

The Red Room – Twin Peaks (1990)

Dare we say the Red Room is perhaps one of the most iconic interior spaces in television history? A crimson-draped chamber that defies both logic and gravity, minimalist yet deeply unsettling, this masterpiece of a room features floor-to-ceiling red velvet curtains contrasted against a chevron-patterened black and white floor. The curtains obscure what lies beyond, while that hypnotic floor seems to lead everywhere and nowhere all at once.

The idea came to Lynch one afternoon after touching the side of a hot car left out in the sun, according to Chris Rodly in his book, Lynch on Lynch: ‘I was leaning against a car – the front of me was leaning against this very warm car. My hands were on the roof and the metal was very hot. The Red Room scene leapt into my mind. Little Mike was there, and he was speaking backwards... For the rest of the night I thought only about the Red Room.’

Dorothy Vallen’s apartment – Blue Velvet (1986)

Here, the most basic of elements – colour, light, proportion – have been manipulated to create some serious unease. The space is draped in deep purple walls – a deliberate fusion of red (danger) and blue (desire) that perfectly capture the apartment’s role as a threshold between the town’s wholesome façade and its sinister underbelly. Even the building’s architecture defies logic – though it appears to have only six floors from the outside, Dorothy somehow lives on the seventh floor, in apartment 710.

Sailor’s Snakeskin Jacket – Wild at Heart (1990)

Okay, okay: we realise that a garment is not technically a room, but Sailor’s omnipresent snakeskin overcoat is the interior icon in this madcap Lynchian black comedy, whether it’s flung across a bedpost, karate-moshing across a field, prancing across car hoods, or facing off with bad guys. ‘This is a snakeskin jacket,’ Sailor (played with schlocky gusto by Nicolas Cage) tells a sneering punk who dared lay eyes on his girlfriend, Lula (Laura Dern). ‘And for me it’s a symbol of my individuality, and my belief [dramatic pause] in personal freedom.’ Swap ‘good interior design’ with ‘snakeskin jacket’ and we’ve got ourselves a forever-motto.

Henry’s Apartment – Eraserhead (1977)

Existential dread in interior form? Look no further than Henry’s apartment. In the sparsely furnished space, mounds of dirt inexplicably accumulate in corners and grass sprouts through the floorboards. The most striking feature may be its single window, initially blocked by a wall of bricks that literally and metaphorically walls Henry off from the outside world. Can interior design drive you mad? In Lynch’s world – yes. But it can be heaven too.

The Emperor’s Throne – Dune (1984)

Padishah Emperor Shaddam IV’s throne room in Lynch’s 1984 adaptation of Dune is a massive space that feels like a cross between Versailles and a futuristic pipe organ, a fittingly over-the-top chamber for a film that was almost universally panned. Lynch himself even disowned the flick, but we still love the sets. Dripping in gold from floor to ceiling, the walls curve with abstract carvings that create an atmosphere of pure imperial excess. This ostentatious display of wealth serves a calculated purpose – to broadcast intergalactic authority in the most ostentatious way possible.

Club Silencio – Mulholland Drive (2001)

Club Silencio is the kind of theatre that makes you question whether you’re awake or dreaming – which is exactly what Lynch intended. He took the classic elements of performance spaces (dramatic red curtains, gilded mouldings) and twisted them just enough to make your brain itch. Fun fact: Lynch loved this fictional space so much he later designed a real-life Club Silencio in Paris, complete with scattered wood panels and golden surfaces that play with light and shadow.

The Madison House – Lost Highway (1997)

From the outside, it’s all imposing angles and windows. Inside? That’s where things really get interesting. The interior design follows a ‘less is definitely less’ philosophy, with minimal furniture floating in vast expanses of space. Those signature Lynchian red curtains make an appearance (because of course they do), but it’s the emptiness that really steals the show. The house even plays tricks on you – the hallways are labyrinthine and uncertain, while the low ceilings create a perpetual sense of claustrophobia despite all that square footage.

The Thinking Room at Salone del Mobile

Lynch’s creative energy extends far beyond the sound stage. Who could forget when, just last year at Milan’s Salone del Mobile, Lynch unveiled Interiors by David Lynch: a Thinking Room, two identical spaces that were curtained in blue velvet and featured video projections, a large central throne, and seven gilded cylinders.

Lynch, a devout practitioner of transcendental meditation, aimed to create a space where people can be at peace with themselves and just think. After he created all the sketches for the installation, Milan architecture firm Lombardini22 and set designers from the city’s Piccolo Theatre brought his concept to life.

The installation, the starring project of last year’s Salone, showcased the screen legend’s penchant for furniture design. Lynch is a skilled carpenter who has been designing and building his own furniture since his days as an art student, both for his own use and for the sets of his films.

The Handmade Paper Cathedral – The Elephant Man (1980)

Merrick, a severely disfigured man living in Victorian London, crafts an intricate architectural model from his hospital room using only his functioning left hand. Merrick could only see the cathedral’s spire from his window, meaning he had to construct the rest of his model from pure imagination. The model evolves throughout the film, getting built, destroyed, and rebuilt – much like Merrick’s own journey from sideshow attraction to respected member of London society. In Merrick’s austere room, the cathedral serves as both artistic achievement and spiritual escape.

The Double R Diner – Twin Peaks (1990)

The coziest slice of Americana that ever hid dark secrets. This quintessential small-town diner – and the haunt of legendary Special Agent Dale Cooper (Kyle MacLachlan) –perfectly captures Lynch’s knack for making the familiar feel slightly off-kilter and operates as both a comfort zone and a tension generator. The space hits all the classic Pacific Northwestern diner tropes – curved counter with chrome-edged stools, vinyl booths in sea-foam green, and warm wood paneling. ‘Diane, if you ever get up this way, that cherry pie is worth a stop.’