A Review of David Lynch's "Lost Highway," Intended For Those Who Have Seen It, Written By A Recovering Elusive Epiphany Addict
See a psychologist could look at this film and try and tell you the identities within David Lynch that some of these characters represent; especially good material for this kind of analysis can be found in one of the final lines, by Mr. Eddie, "You and me, Mister, we can really out ugly them son bitchesŠcan't we?" because Mr. Eddie says the line to two other very important figures in the film, Fred the artistically self-deluding husband and That Spooky Guy that's always telling people he's met them before. And the symbol-seeking film students might possibly look at that line as a comment on Lynch's own place in Hollywood.

I'm almost ready to say that this film is the landmark piece where he perfected his form. But I'm always on the point of saying something about Lynch -- I'm sometimes ready to say that some of the music he's produced is of greater importance than the films themselves; and I'm especially frequently on the point of referring to him as a genius; I'm not going to take this as my means of exploring why it is I don't think he's a genius. That'll be my "Eraserhead" review; it's a mockery to my Lynchian credentials that I haven't seen that film even a first time.

Hollywood is the elusive Queen Bitch of our psyches, and I will go ahead and argue that Lynch's film, "Lost Highway," is in part a consciously performed subconscious attack on that elusive bitch. The entertainment value is the only thing obvious about Lynch. It's hilarious that a well dressed crime-lord would chase a guy down, run him off the road and beat him to squeeling submission, to saying that yes, he will go and research the dangers of tail-gating. That's just top rate comedy, and hey, the guy's got a point -- tail-gating is very dangerous and always makes me a little nervous when I'm not the one doing it.

Two sexy twins in drugged out, home-made porn movies, one fucking behind her husband's back, the other dating, at gun-point, the man (or one of the men) she's fucking around with.

And when Fred the husband is video taped killing his wife by The Spooky Guy, we're introduced to someone who could possibly be a younger, more rebellious version of Fred (but he carries a different name) -- this younger, more rebellious man mysteriously replaces Fred on Death Row. The young man then goes on to have an affair with Mr. Eddie's girl, the twin; something terrible is in the young man's recent past; from just before he appeared in jail, in fact; something terrible which presumably relates back to The Spooky Guy -- but the kid's parents absolutely refuse to tell him what had happened to him before he woke up with a big bump on his head.

It's a good film, is all; it's really quite a bit tighter than say, "Wild At Heart." And David Bowie's track is outstanding. I recommend it highly.

(Ashley Pond, editor and founder of majenta, didn't recommend the movie highly. He's believes in artistic integrity, and knowing this and how strongly I feel about it, he doesn't even bother asking for a rewrite if he's in disagreement with the content; he just doesn't print it. Thus, majenta rejecta).