Stream It Or Skip It: ‘What Did Jack Do?’ on Netflix, in Which David Lynch Interrogates a Monkey, Much to Our Delight

Unholy wailing babies Batman, Netflix just surprise-dropped a David Lynch short called What Did Jack Do?, in which Lynch himself plays a detective interrogating a capuchin monkey about his involvement in a murder. Delightful as that may be — Lynch! Monkey! — it’s not a brand-new film; it was shot in 2016, and screened a bit here and there, most notably at the director’s Festival of Disruption in 2018. But now it’s streaming for all to see, debuting on Lynch’s 74th birthday even, and further fueling rumors that he and Netflix are partnering for an upcoming project. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, though, and stick to the task at hand: Is this 17-minute black-and-white ambush of our tolerance for pseudo-dadaist surrealism another Lynch gem, or just, y’know, monkeyshines?

WHAT DID JACK DO?: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: A monkey sits in a train station. His name is Jack Cruz. He’s wearing a smart — but not too smart — suit and waiting too long for a cup of coffee. A detective (Lynch) pulls up a chair across from him. “You know anything about birds, Jack?” the detective asks in a calm, mannered tone. “You’ve been seen with chickens. Associating with chickens!” he accuses.

This is a problem, as a chicken turned up dead, and the evidence points a paw directly at Jack. The monkey indeed can speak, similar to the characters on the old Clutch Cargo cartoon (and his voice sounds suspiciously like a pitchy version of Lynch’s). He deflects. He dodges. He dances. The coffee arrives. The camera takes a long, lingering stare at the steaming cup — the caffiend’s gaze. The waitress apologizes for taking so long. There’s cops everywhere, she says. The standoff intensifies. “Go climb a tree!” Jack tells the detective. What happened? Is Jack guilty? Or is the detective barking up the wrong banana tree? NOOOOOO SPOIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILERRRRRRRS.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: If one compares Lynch’s work to anything but Lynch’s work, one stretches too far. His work is singular. Lynch was manifest sans chicken or egg. First there was nothing, then there was Lynch, and after Lynch, there was again nothing. So: Jack‘s scratchy “film stock” and rich black-and-white visual tones are absolutely reminiscent of Lynch’s midnight masterpiece Eraserhead (and dare I say Jack concludes with a nod to it?). And the director’s employment of anthropomorphism inspired in me disturbed flashbacks to the creepy rabbits in Inland Empire.

Performance Worth Watching: Shall I praise Lynch or the monkey? Sophie’s choice, people. Sophie’s choice. It’s worth noting how Lynch clearly channels a similar tone as his Twin Peaks character, FBI agent Gordon Cole, ALBEIT CONSIDERABLY QUIETER.

Memorable Dialogue: Oh, Jack: “They say real love is a banana — sweet with a golden hue.”

Sex and Skin: Thank your chosen deity — there is none.

Our Take: It is not what Jack did, but how we learn about what he possibly did. Lynch scripted this as primarily an exchange of old-timey hardboiled cliche-metaphors between monkey and man, the former possibly privy to his more feral instincts, and the latter more evolved — although the opposite often seems true as well, doesn’t it? It is comedy. It is drama. It is most definitely noir, rich with delicious Lynchisms, from the squashed-flat line readings to the weird Vaudevillian flourishes to THE COFFEE.

But Jack‘s greatest Lynchian allure is its musty atmosphere, the feeling that this is some discarded thing excavated from an old dusty trunk dating to a long lost time and place, forgotten by everyone and patiently waiting to creep us right the hell out — although frankly, this was as funny as anything in Lynch’s impeccable oeuvre. As with any David Lynch endeavor, extracting meaning from the work is secondary to letting the experience of it render us slackjawed with puzzlement and fascination. In fact, I actively resist analyzing Lynch’s art, as it spot-welds us to the moment; subsequent reflection upon inspires not a perspicacious gaze into life’s mysteries or the nature of humans, but simply a longing, a compulsion to watch it again.

Our Call: STREAM IT. What Did Jack Do simply exists, and it is wonderful that it exists.

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Stream What Did Jack Do? on Netflix