Lost Highway
Director: David Lynch
1997 USA
Jazz saxophonist Fred Madison receives a message on his intercom: “Dick Laurent is dead.” He and his wife Renee receive a couple of anonymous videotapes which show home footage of their apartment, and of them sleeping. Madison secretly suspects Renee of having an affair. At the party of drug dealer Andy, he has a bizarre encounter with a Mystery Man, in which he is instructed to phone his own home, only to find the Mystery Man, while still physically present at the party, answers the phone. Fred seemingly kills his wife, and is sentence to the death chair. In his prison cell the next day, the guard finds not Fred, but Pete Dayton, a car mechanic. When Dayton is released, he meets Alice Wakefield, the mistress of gangster Mr. Eddie. He embarks on a passionate affair with Alice, and they agree to con a pornographer for whom Alice once did work for. It turns out to be Andy. After successfully robbing and unintentionally killing Andy, and on the way out of town, the two stop by a deserted hut, where Alice disappears and Pete transforms into Fred Madison. Fred and meets the Mystery Man, and together they kill Mr. Eddie. The next morning, Fred, followed by the police, presumably after him for the killing of Andy, leaves a message at his own intercom: “Dick Laurent is dead.”

In the early days of narrative cinema, there was a problem with even the most simple of edits: the cut away, wherein one shot is replaced with another shot, which at first appears to be unrelated. It is only in the context of this transition that these separate shots form a meaning intelligible to the audience. In Lost Highway, however, precisely the opposite is true. When, a third into the movie, Fred Madison transforms into an entirely different character Pete Dayton, it confuses the viewer. Proceedings are given even more complexity when Pete, our new protagonist in the narrative’s discourse, meets Alice Wakefield, played by the same actress as Fred’s wife Renee, Patricia Arquette. When the cops, who have just released an innocent Pete from jail, reveal that his gangster associate Mr. Eddie is in fact Dick Laurent, things become even more confusing. And when, by the end of the film, Pete has transformed back to Fred, and Mr. Eddie into Dick Laurent (not to mention an appearance by Andy in both parallel narratives), viewers could well be throwing in the towel.

This is, then, no conventional work. Lynch employs Brechtian techniques in a meandering plot which deals, essentially, with questions of identity and character crises. When trying to justify the over-elaborate, dense narrative of his Mulholland Dr. (2001) on the Region 2 DVD, Lynch hints that questions of identity are part of everyday life, and we all have to deal with it. This contemporary noir, with its convoluted character-switching and circular narrative, may be taken as a film which labours a point which could easily be dealt with in less tortuous circumstances. But there is a fitting quote from one of Lynch’s influences, to counter this point, and the director may even have paraphrased it himself at one point or another. “In order to convey fact, you can only ever so do through distortion,” so painter Francis Bacon was announced. Here, in Lost Highway, the distortion becomes, oddly, the only way to get Lynch’s message across.

Told, as ever, as a brooding Lynchian nightmare, with Peter Deming’s camera accentuating the alarming reds and stark Baconesque yellows and pinks of the characters’ spacious, minimalist apartments, Highway starts as a conventional film noir before turning into a disturbing, often frightening mystery, slowly unfolding itself into an even deeper, denser world of mistrust and suspicion. The opening third, in which Fred and wife Renee receive a series of mysterious videos of footage of themselves sleeping in their bedroom, comprises a succession of short, disjointed scenes made all the more strained by the editing: a slow train of fade to blacks, as if to suggest falling in and out of consciousness, dreaminess, a state of nightmare. Lynch’s camera lingers on the dark corners of rooms, wanting, but scared to, explore them further. In contrast, the part in the film dealing with Pete’s decline into lustful desire for mistress Alice is more wordy and, to perhaps seem as far away from Fred’s opening character arc as possible, told with more purpose.

That Fred and Pete are the same characters has widely been argued, and to valid extent. But what if we, as an audience by now used almost too used to the language of film, and immune to its potential to create new, innovative sparks in its mechanics, are taking it for granted that, as the same characters crop up in each of the film’s parallel narratives, they must belong in the same world? What if, when we cut away to Pete’s story, we have been taken to a whole new world which only looks the same as that in which Fred was jailed? Looking at the film in this way, taking one world as some kind of reality and the other as a dream, each separate story, even when morphing into one, as it seems to do in the latter stages, can now be enjoyed for what it is. Or indeed, the two narratives could well be two cogs on the same wheel, and the film itself is, in true Lynch fashion, an inescapable nightmare for all, with characters taking on the names of others. Or rather, this is a kaleidoscopic precursor for Cronenberg’s A History of Violence (2005), a film which deals with masculine wish-fulfilment to transform into an alter-ego in order to cope with the boredom of life. Here we have the predominant characters all with their own alter egos; Fred and Pete, Renee and Alice, Mr. Eddie and Dick Laurent, and, it could even be argued, the Mystery Man and Andy.

From whose point, then, is this nightmare told? An obvious answer would be Fred’s. It has been debated that the second half of the film is merely Fred convincing himself, through an extended fantasy in which he is Pete Dayton, of his own innocence in his wife’s murder. But the film could equally be regarded as from Pete’s point of view, with Fred the fictional character. But to ask these questions is to not necessarily seek an answer; indeed, when watching Lost Highway, you get the feeling that Lynch is simply exploring ideas here: masculine doubt (both Fred and Pete have problems finishing during sex), identity crises and, to study the haunting surface level of the film, nightmares and their connection to memory and the unconscious.

Thanks for reading,
Mick

What are other people's thoughts on this film? How does it register upon your unconscious, memory, subconscious or desire to see absolute pure Cinema? It's certainly one of my favourite films. I sense Lynch isn't a house favourite heer; while he likes Blue Velvet, Turnbull has shown resentment to Lynch's (unseen, for me) "pretentiousness" in recent years. JG has I know seen this film at least.

Discuss.

Mick

LOST HIGHWAY - ****/5

Pretty damn good David LYnch gem that needs more respect.

Me, it was one of those early movies that got me from being a Irishman like person to where I am now, way back in high school. So ya, guys like Lynch, Scorsese, Frakenheimer, and Tarantino opened my fragile little mind to such subvertive influences....especially Lynch Boy.

Really good review Capo. Sorry I didn't post earlier.

I liked the movie, mainly because it was extraordinary. I saw this after Mulholland Dr, so I didn't get that confused, since the theme was the same. But I think I like Mulholland Dr a little more. I'm not sure what did you intend us to discuss here?

OMG, I saw this thread the other day, but didn't realize it when I watched the movie yesterday (hence my post in "just watched" discussion). If any of you have not watched it and plan to watch it, here is my advice (another advice: You would be better off if you read this spoiler though ).....

SEMI-SPOILER ALERT ON
Pay attention to what the guy says in his reply to the cops about owning a video camera. And keep that reply in mind while watching the rest of the movie.
SEMI-SPOILER ALERT OFF

Mick, I don't know how you watched it for 3 times. To me, all those movies that hinge upon just a single line(like my spoiler above, or for example "sixth sense") of suspense, don't interest me on repeated viewings. Why not tell a plain interesting story? Do I need to get into an imaginary world for the movie to be great.

David Lynch is a master. He figures, if film is an art form, why not make it how HE wants to make it?

Nobody has dug deeper into the human mind than Lynch. He truly is a genius.

The thing is, though, SVSG, I think of The Sixth Sense of a film along the same lines as The Usual Suspects. A commercial film with a twist. Nothing wrong with that, but there is a solution to the narrative, solvable upon rewatches if it isn't caught in the initial viewing. Lost Highway I like to think of as a filmic texture, pure Cinema. Cinema in the sense that it couldn't really translate to any other medium. The Sixth Sense could easily be told in novel form; Lynch's film, meanwhile, is a multi-layered cinematic poem, which does not hinge on one line, as you say, but begs to be experienced, not understood. Lynch's universe is one onto which my unconscious latches willingly; it's why I revisit his films, and why they get better and better each time...

Thanks for that, Capo! Maybe the next time I watch it I might be able to follow along a bit better than in the past -- when I simply had no idea WTF was going on, as if I had had a lobotomy and then gotten stoned.

Capo, since you attach a higher meaning to the story than what is obvious, I would like to know if higher-than-average nudity in the movie was of any significance? I would want you to review on that aspect too, it doesn't seem like it was thrown in for fun, or was it?

You spoke for me, JG. "WTF" was where I came away from this self-indulgent mess (although I liked Robert Loggia, who's always good). I read an interview with Lynch last year in Paris-Match in which Lynch expressed his unreserved admiration for the French people, and how he always got a warmer reception in France than in the US. The interviewer replied, "How do you account for the fact that no on in France understands Lost Highway?" Lynch said that his films were "not for everybody."
:rolleyes:
Mick: by "Baconesque," do you mean Francis Bacon? Now, there's a guy whose work I admire.

I don't understand what's wrong with this statement. You didn't like it, so it is not for you after all.

I did like it very much and I happen to agree with Mick about how this is a pure cinematic experience that can't be told in another media.

Damn, I thought that was Kevin Bacon... and I was trying to figure out what the 6 Degrees were between...

oh, never mind...

I think I'm just gonna sit back and munch on some popcorn as Afs dukes it out with Turnbull...!

You know JG, I like Lynch's self-indulgent messes. I like the way he unfolds what's on some messed up mind. I think it is brilliant, but I sure don't expect everyone to like it, because it does take a weird taste to appreciate this movie.

No one has a "weird taste" more than I do, I bet! Maybe I'm just too stupid to follow it.

Have you seen Mulholland Dr? Plus, it is not the matter of understanding. Sometimes you really don't understand a messed up mind, but wouldn't you, as someone who happens to be a psychiatrist, like to see what can be on a murderer's mind?

Well, a trained therapist, but not a psychiatrist (which requires an M.D.)... but absolutely!! I love that shit!! Is *that* was Lost Highway is about??

As for Mulholland Dr, I haven't seen it yet... but I suppose I should put it higher on my list, huh?

That's how I relate to it.

Well, beware, you might even get more confused watching Mulholland Dr, but it is more understandable as what really happens. It is status of mind and mixing identity when you can't deal with yourself in a way that I can relate to it. I dont know, maybe I'm a psycho after all. :p

Maybe we're just made for each other!!

Not that there is anything wrong with being 7000 miles or so apart from each other, psychos don't mind these issues.

7000 miles???!??!!!

Shit, I thought it was only 6000 miles. Damn!

Turnbull, Lost Highway certainly is self-indulgent. Self-indulgence, a mere form of aesthetic masturbation, is what defines art, to me. Lynch seeks no audience, no critics, he makes the films he wants to.

When I watched Mulholland Dr. the first time, I disclaimed it as an interesting, visually arresting piece of work with too much thematic deja vu to call a masterpiece. Since revisiting it, I can see an artist exploring his obsessions and fascinations; you see themes, motifs and visuals recurring throughout his work, some intentional and for self-reflexive fun, others subconsciously projecting and coming about by coincidence; note the use of red curtains in his films, candles, matches, slow motion - also note the zig-zagged carpet which shows up in Henry's lobby in Eraserhead, then again in the Red Room in Twin Peaks, this time in dazzling colour.

And yes, by Bacon, I meant the painter, Francis, another hero of mine. I'm currently in the process of writing an essay comparing Lynch with Bacon. I'll send you when I'm done...

Thanks,
Mick

I've been coming back to this all day. Here goes...

Lynch has been noted, even criticised, for confronting his audiences with scenes of provocative sex. The first time I watched Blue Velvet, I rendered it uncomfortable viewing, needlessly so.

I think with Lost Highway, well aware of the sex appeal of Patricia Arquette, the director has her in full nudity to make it seem more dreamlike - or rather, more like a man's fantasy. Hence the extreme slow-motion in the early sex scene. She is, essentially, a seductive mother, or motherly seductress to these two hapless men. Yet, even in these guys' dreams, they still have problems when it comes down to sex. Sex is never too far away from desire, be that desire the want to become somebody else, or be in love with someone else, or whatever. Sex and violence often overlap. In a way, violence is an extreme act of eroticism.

What do you think?

I think your posts contain great insight and a very interesting point of view. You're awesome!!

Here's my theory:
His wife cheats on him or atleast he suspects so. Since she is a beautiful woman and he spots her with Andy(or whoever, that guy with a moustache), he has a inferiority complex about his own sexuality. That is why in his imagination, he sees a lot of women attracted to him. As the detective notes, he gets more p***y than a toilet seat. That is the way he wants to remember his past.... where women like having sex with him, rather than his beautiful wife finding him unattractive. He also wants to consider himself as a victim. Remember the scene where the mechanic guy enter's Andy's house only to see the video of his wife having sex with other men being played on the big screen. He beleives he is morally superior to his wife, who has whored herself... as a possible justification of his murdering her.
But seing her nude ever so many times or for that matter the actual sex scenes was not strictly required. The giant screen playing the sex video was the best of the sex scenes in my opinion and the scene where she strips before that old guy making porn is the worst, most superfluous.
Regarding your observation on the parallel between violence and eroticism, I have to disagree. I think that sex (not eroticism) is a mild form of violence. In nature sex is always bloody, messy and therapeutic... much like violence.

Yeah, okay. I like that summary.

I saw Lost Highway last night, and not since Mulholland Drive have I ever been so confused. I now understand Mulholland Drive, or like to believe I do anyway, but am totally and completely lost with Lost Highway. I like to understand the basics before I can delve deeper, and here I don't even know whether Fred and Peter are the same person.

Being a communications major, you'd think I was better at analysing texts, but I just have no clue here. It's one I'll definitely have to rewatch again though.

Capo, I know you like to read, so if you haven't, you should read the New York Trilogy by Paul Austere. I studied him in my Contemporary Fiction class in my final semester and my best comparsion to him was David Lynch. I hate being left confused, and those two manage to do it to me every time.

I think the confusion with Lynch is a riveting one, though, don't you? In Lost Highway especially it's like you're wandering through a maze, then just as you catch glimpse of the exit you lose you way again. Just as it shows signs of unfolding itself, it blows away again down another tangent.

Thanks for the literary recommendation. I'll keep note of it.