After a jazz saxophonist inexplicably finds himself convicted of his wife’s murder, he mysteriously vanishes from his prison cell, leaving a strange man in his place and no explanation of how he got there.
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re-rating. To rewatch this film was mainly the fatigue of a confrontation with a language that no longer enchants me. That is, if remains fairly effective Lynch's idiosyncratic imaginary, what i detected above all- as i was moving away from his spell -were tricks of shuffling and give a nth variation of an image style, with a too easy concession to an uninterruptible juke-box and many sequences of a doubtful taste.
A surreal puzzle movie about guilt and delusion, as well as a deceptively sly critique of film noir, porno, and other male fantasies/nightmares. In retrospect, it's a dry-run for Mulholland Dr., where we also see the reflection of the story instead of the story itself. But even though it's intelligent, it's a lot less soulful than MD. Sidenote: isn't it funny that film noir cliches are now less dated than 90s music?
This is definitely the film that got me into Lynch's cinema. I had seen Blue Velvet when I was probably too young. The split in Lost Highway was a point of no return. When lights go out, I just let myself get immersed. Even if it's my subconscious, or my emotional self that are learning and being fed. Even if consciously there is a gap. From that point on, I was even more able to allow myself to dream, awake.
Probably the most accessible Lynch film in terms of what he is all about. Solid, but it feels like he's trying to impress or that he's finally subscribing to what his fan base thinks of him. Glad he emerged from this stage with Mulholland Dr. We wouldn't want him to turn into Tim Burton.
As cool as cool jazz in the dark and dirty night. I love how surreal and absurd this movie is. It goes from being some kind of strange dream to a laughable parody, which only makes it more unsettling and fun. The only thing that keeps it from being a masterpiece is that I felt nothing for the characters, and I don't think Lynch did either. My explanation: the thoughts of a schizoid or the denizens of the Black Lodge.
Scarier than most horror films. Many of the more visceral atmospheric/nightmarish qualities present "Fire Walk with Me" make a return here, to great effect. It's also a fascinatingly guileless takedown of male sexual fantasies and insecurities, many of them projected onto the Junoesque Arquette; she and Lynch play out torturous and knowingly ridiculous erotic scenarios with intelligence and aplomb.