Opiniões dos críticos

With its lack of deep focus and threateningly ambient sound design, Lost Highway is a defiantly oneiric work, albeit one that attempts to reconcile these abstractions with the legacy of the most idiosyncratic of noir, actively referencing oddities like Kiss Me Deadly and Angel Face to comprise its decidedly singular tone.

Lost Highway... is the least accomplished of Lynch's unofficial Los Angeles trilogy, but also an important thematic precursor to the later installments.

[The way station] is neither heaven nor hell, and maybe not even purgatory: Lynch is showing us a dream realm that at times looks like just another Los Angeles noir story, but pushes on into the larger Mysteries, and we keep driving on into them, swallowed up by the bloody path.

David Lynch loves to play in the dark. His longtime cinematographer Frederick Elmes once remarked that "with David, my job is to determine how dark we're talking about." There's sort-of-dark, and really-dark, and pitch-black-dark; all of these kinds and more are put to gripping use in LOST HIGHWAY... To ignore LOST HIGHWAY is to discount some of Lynch's most indelible moments.

By no means a meditative work in the sense that Eraserhead is, Lost Highway is defined less by visual and aural textures than by narrative flow, assaulting the viewer with a battery of effects. If Lynch hasn't developed his themes one iota in a quarter of a century, the mastery of sound and image on display here hasn't been seen or heard since Blue Velvet.