A neo-noir, a psychological thriller, a horror film of alternate realities—there are many ways to describe Lost Highway, but words can’t truly capture the hallucinatory power of this mesmerizing meditation on the mysterious nature of identity.
“Lost Highway is delightfully bonkers … eerie and edgy.” – Christopher Hemblade, Empire
After a five-year hiatus following the release of Fire Walk With Me, Lynch returned to the big screen with perhaps his most radical and disturbing work since Eraserhead. Lost Highway follows the misadventures of an L.A. jazz musician (Bill Pullman), whose disintegrating relationship with his wife (Patricia Arquette) is made even more complicated when the couple begins receiving cryptic, menacing surveillance tapes of their Hollywood home. As the anxiety within their marriage grows, the musician is drawn into a dangerously disorienting plot involving murder, frame-ups, nightmares, doppelgangers, head trips and a strange, chalk-faced creep with a camera who may or may not hold all the answers. As the enigmatic, Möbius strip-like narrative unravels in delightfully bewildering ways, the logic of time, space and identity seem to slip away, splintering the story into an exhilarating, baffling and schizophrenic rollercoaster ride down the darkest highway of the human psyche. Co-written by Lynch and famed noir author Barry Gifford, and featuring a colorfully odd supporting cast that includes Gary Busey, Robert Loggia, Jack Nance, Richard Pryor and a truly-unsettling Robert Blake, Lost Highway is an intricately structured explosion of expressionistic strangeness, and a key example of Lynch’s unique ability to push the boundaries of conventional storytelling. (Dir. by David Lynch, 1997, USA, 134 mins., Rated R)