Between them Frederick Elmes and Peter Deming lensed five David Lynch features. At the Italian Global Series Festival currently taking place in Rimini and Riccione, the cinematographers have been talking about their work with Lynch as they introduced the original pilot of “Twin Peaks,” the third season of which Deming shot. Variety sat down with them for an in-depth interview about their collaboration with the late director.

I read it. It was very much the way he created the last “Twin Peaks,” where it was a ridiculously long feature film, close to 600 pages. It took me three sittings to read it, and we had some discussions about it. We went on one location scout, and David hired a production designer, and was talking to Laura [Dern] and Naomi [Watts] about parts in it, and then COVID happened. That’s the last we saw of that. Now, just recently, I know Jennifer [Lynch] and the kids are talking about publishing it as a book, because I think it was a discussion that began when David started having health problems and whether he would be able to make it.

Early on working with David, it was an evolving process. We went to the American Film Institute together, and he learned about scriptwriting. “Eraserhead” certainly didn’t fit in that mold and took a long time to get script approval at the AFI. There was a short script version and then it expanded as we shot and became its own film. But with “Blue Velvet” and “Wild at Heart,” they were formal scripts that were technically approved, and we stayed with the story. David added things that were intriguing, but I happened to read the first couple pages of the “Blue Velvet” script recently, and it surprised me that what we photographed is actually on the page.

In my experience, the scripts were finished. What struck me about the script, there was very little information given to you. I remember scenes in “Lost Highway” where it said: “interior suburban house day,” and then it just went right into the dialog. No description of the characters. Because David wrote it, he was already there. It wasn’t until you saw the scene that you knew how to light it or shoot it. The further you got into shooting, you know these characters and their troubles and where the darkness was, so you latched on to that. And, incidentally, David knew what the music was going to be.

David was very knowledgeable about what he saw and how that would translate to film. He could look through the camera and say, “Yes, this is the 35mm. This looks like I imagined. And I like the light in the room.” He could judge that through the camera. We used this little contrast viewing glass to trick your eye into seeing the contrast ratio of the film. He’d tell me to turn lights off occasionally, but never what light to use, or how to do something. He left that to me completely, but he did say dark has to be darker. In “Blue Velvet,” the first time we go into Dorothy’s apartment is a day scene. The night scene, David didn’t want to see anything when Jeffrey sneaks in. I sat in the theater in the Directors Guild in the premiere of the film, and I said, “David, I can’t see. It’s so dark.” And David said, “Yeah, it’s great.” But sure enough, when the lights pop on, you get the effect he was looking for.

Every day was an adventure. You knew where you’re shooting and the scenes. Beyond that anything could happen, and you had to be ready for it. At first, it was terrifying, but then once you accept it, it becomes exhilarating. He knows when he comes up with stuff that you’re going to do your best to fulfill it. If you can’t, there’s never a blame place. As long as you’re on board, it’s fun.

I agree with Peter. It’s that trust. I’m as prepared as I can be, and I know something’s going to change, some odd thing will happen that no one’s even imagined yet, but the scene is going to turn here and I’m going to do my best to deal with it, because David is making that part up as he goes along.

No, we never did until recently. We’ve gotten to know each other in the last five years and realizing how similar these experiences were. Had I gone to Fred and asked his advice, he would have said, “I don’t know what to tell you. Just be ready for anything.”

But that’s part of the joy of working with David. Something creative was going to happen that day, you just weren’t sure what it was, but it was bound to be challenging, and very possibly fun.

This happened over a 40-year period, but those peaks were pretty high and even in the moments when it was a valley, I feel like those initial valleys have now become peaks.

When “Mulholland Drive” came out, it was accepted by a certain percentage of cinephiles, and then five years later, suddenly, everyone’s like, “Oh, this is really something.” Fred and I both experienced it. David’s making the best film he knows how for himself. Of course, he wants people to like it and go see it, but he’s never anticipating an audience reaction when he’s making a film.

On “Eraserhead,” for all the years it took, there was never a doubt in his mind that there was going to be an audience for this movie. Some of us weren’t so sure, but we believed in him, and we wanted to see it through.

Once they hammered out the budget – and David is one of the only people who gets this – he had total control. They didn’t see dailies; they didn’t see cuts. They saw the script; they gave him the money, and then when the show was done, he said, “Here’s the show.” In the time I knew him, there were half a dozen projects that almost got off the ground, and I never found out exactly why they didn’t, but I know it’s down to control. If he doesn’t get final cut, he won’t do it.

That was a bad experience for him. The studio took it away and they edited the movie. It’s not his movie, but I think that it does go back to the very beginning, where as a painter, you’re in control of the canvas: period. And when it’s done, it’s done.

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity.