i found this and mulholland drive really frustrating they both start off great but they descend into to unnecessary weirdness i personally like unusual films that can be 'explained' other wise they are pointless!
Watching it I had no idea what was going on and, upon finishing it, I couldn't grasp what this film was really about. Even so, I really liked it - I enjoyed the crazy plot, soundtrack and atmosphere enormously. After reading the analysis and thinking of the commonly accepted theory, I love Lost Highway even more. It has complex meaning and is entertaining both taken at face value and metaphorically. For me this is the true greatness of this film.
...I looked at the clock; 6:32 PM. For the past few years, I was used to the companionship of a cheap whore, during my descent into Morpheus’ embrace. That day, however, was different. It marked thirty-three years since my father’s brutal rape and murder. I decided to lull myself asleep…
Mount Kokkygios; I was naked and fettered with a pair of rusty chains, just like Prometheus. The vultures flew around me, leering at my inflated Penis, with great desire. Suddenly, a proud griffon vulture landed on my Sack and grabbed my tumor-filled, right Ball. I was watching the magnificent fowl taking off with great strain, due to the weight of my sick Testicle, while the rest of the vultures were getting prepared to claim the remaining prey…
I was strolling alone around the scenic alleys of Bălți. I had applied some of nana’s herbs on my – already botched – scrotum, but the wounds, left by the ravenous vultures, were still wide open. My gaze stumbled upon a group of breezy children; I was taken by their graceful games. I was trying to isolate this beautiful image of blissful carelessness and the sound of the children’s laughter, which helped me forget my pain. I fumed when I realized that the little cocksuckers were laughing at me. Blinded by rage and ego, I whipped out my colossal Penis and used it to smack little Bogdan’s face. “Îmi pare rău, domnule Cornelius! Ajutor!” cried, until his little heart stopped beating. Days later, I discovered some fragments of the unfortunate child’s skull, inside my healed Sack. God damn you, Bogdan!...
2:28 AM. “Time for milk” I whispered to my granddaughter. She felt her breasts; “I don’t have any”, she replied. I wore a white robe, a pair of plastic gloves and grabbed the iron bucket we used to defecate. I walked St. Nicholas Avenue, up and down three times, amongst the various junkies and immigrants, looking desperately for a lymphogranuloma venereum-infested whore to milk. My odyssey, however, did not successfully conclude. I was forced, compromisingly, to identify my Ithaca with a random, HIV-positive, Moldovan prostitute. Despite the fact that my thirst was overwhelming, I couldn’t resist, thus I tapped that ass. After the three-minute pleasure, I placed a couple of bronze coins in her coffer, as a fee and focused on my initial goal. With great patience and care, I started milking her uneven breasts. Suddenly, the whore became white as a sheet and instantly stopped the milk flow. “What is that?” she stuttered in broken English. I couldn’t understand was going on, until I saw the prostitute raising her right index finger and using it to point at my Glans. I grabbed my Penis to examine it and I was shocked by the find; a tiny piece of little Bogdan’s skull, was stuck in my urethra, hidden, just like a weak sparrow roosted in the warmth and snugness of its nest. “YOU!” shouted the whore, “You kill my son!?”. “Wait, let me explain”, I mumbled, realizing the tragic irony. She pounced on me like a tomcat and neutralized me with a skillfully executed Pak Sao. I didn’t resist; I left my Cock at the mercy of the three Fates. The poor mother, took out a golden, shiny sickle and without hesitation, she castrated me, just like ruthless Saturn mutilated Uranus. The only difference, my friends, was that through the trickles of my blood Sex was born and through my sperm, Cinema…
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. 9:37 AM. Damn it; I was late for work. But that’s ok, I thought; the FOMC could wait. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. An unprecedented burden nailed me on my bed. I reluctantly placed my hand under my boxers and grabbed my Balls. Hosanna, I exclaimed with devoutness. You won’t believe this, my trusted readers, but, after all these years, my experiments had been successful: my Testicles had tripled! I now had four (4), one for each Season. Unfortunately, though, all good things come to an end. Neither me, nor you, had the chance to enjoy this divine gift, since I was diagnosed with cancer. My beautiful and proud Balls…
The way Lynch handle the tension troughout the whole film is spectacular. This is to me his creepiest film, specially in those scenes from the first half when the guy walks through the hallway and all you get to see his the darkness consuming his figure. I was terrified.
Structurally a prototype of sorts for Mullholland Dr., Lost Highway is a recursive neo-noir thriller that many have found frustrating for its lack of answers, but dream logic, magical realism, and psychological resonance put various interpretations well within reach of the open-minded audience. Given the crushing normalcy of Bill Pullman's life at the top of the film, everything else is a noir fantasy fueled by his jealousy, up to and including his identity schism, reverting to a younger self (note how the cars and styles are all over the place) better suited to resolving the fantasy heroically rather than violently. And yet, the fantasy is also real. The cops really are after him, he really does get a message from another time, and so on. But it's psychology manifest. The time loop is only ever himself reflecting on himself, and resolving the psychic trauma of his jealousy, to either lay things to rest, or inflame them further. If the noir elements AREN'T a fantasy, then you can see Bill's transformation as a psychological break made flesh, literally wanting to be someone else, and yet consistently haunted by who you really are. In any case, a torrid dream-like thriller that, like the protagonist's story, doubles back on itself but never circles a conclusion.
Whilst watching it is difficult to perfectly understand what's going on, but as someone else said, reading the IMDb analysis after really helps explain it (and it does sorta make some sense).
Regardless of all that the first half is excellent in it's tension and creepiness, whilst the second half is equally exciting in an almost Tarantino-esque way. The music throughout is superb.
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God
Best Lynch film? In what universe? It's his worst one.wolke
disappointing! as said, it starts good ... really scary. after a while it is getting nothing but confusing. don't try to make sense of it!george4mon
i found this and mulholland drive really frustrating they both start off great but they descend into to unnecessary weirdness i personally like unusual films that can be 'explained' other wise they are pointless!filmclub
AwfulAlex Rogue
Watching it I had no idea what was going on and, upon finishing it, I couldn't grasp what this film was really about. Even so, I really liked it - I enjoyed the crazy plot, soundtrack and atmosphere enormously. After reading the analysis and thinking of the commonly accepted theory, I love Lost Highway even more. It has complex meaning and is entertaining both taken at face value and metaphorically. For me this is the true greatness of this film.Cornelius P.
...I looked at the clock; 6:32 PM. For the past few years, I was used to the companionship of a cheap whore, during my descent into Morpheus’ embrace. That day, however, was different. It marked thirty-three years since my father’s brutal rape and murder. I decided to lull myself asleep…Mount Kokkygios; I was naked and fettered with a pair of rusty chains, just like Prometheus. The vultures flew around me, leering at my inflated Penis, with great desire. Suddenly, a proud griffon vulture landed on my Sack and grabbed my tumor-filled, right Ball. I was watching the magnificent fowl taking off with great strain, due to the weight of my sick Testicle, while the rest of the vultures were getting prepared to claim the remaining prey…
I was strolling alone around the scenic alleys of Bălți. I had applied some of nana’s herbs on my – already botched – scrotum, but the wounds, left by the ravenous vultures, were still wide open. My gaze stumbled upon a group of breezy children; I was taken by their graceful games. I was trying to isolate this beautiful image of blissful carelessness and the sound of the children’s laughter, which helped me forget my pain. I fumed when I realized that the little cocksuckers were laughing at me. Blinded by rage and ego, I whipped out my colossal Penis and used it to smack little Bogdan’s face. “Îmi pare rău, domnule Cornelius! Ajutor!” cried, until his little heart stopped beating. Days later, I discovered some fragments of the unfortunate child’s skull, inside my healed Sack. God damn you, Bogdan!...
2:28 AM. “Time for milk” I whispered to my granddaughter. She felt her breasts; “I don’t have any”, she replied. I wore a white robe, a pair of plastic gloves and grabbed the iron bucket we used to defecate. I walked St. Nicholas Avenue, up and down three times, amongst the various junkies and immigrants, looking desperately for a lymphogranuloma venereum-infested whore to milk. My odyssey, however, did not successfully conclude. I was forced, compromisingly, to identify my Ithaca with a random, HIV-positive, Moldovan prostitute. Despite the fact that my thirst was overwhelming, I couldn’t resist, thus I tapped that ass. After the three-minute pleasure, I placed a couple of bronze coins in her coffer, as a fee and focused on my initial goal. With great patience and care, I started milking her uneven breasts. Suddenly, the whore became white as a sheet and instantly stopped the milk flow. “What is that?” she stuttered in broken English. I couldn’t understand was going on, until I saw the prostitute raising her right index finger and using it to point at my Glans. I grabbed my Penis to examine it and I was shocked by the find; a tiny piece of little Bogdan’s skull, was stuck in my urethra, hidden, just like a weak sparrow roosted in the warmth and snugness of its nest. “YOU!” shouted the whore, “You kill my son!?”. “Wait, let me explain”, I mumbled, realizing the tragic irony. She pounced on me like a tomcat and neutralized me with a skillfully executed Pak Sao. I didn’t resist; I left my Cock at the mercy of the three Fates. The poor mother, took out a golden, shiny sickle and without hesitation, she castrated me, just like ruthless Saturn mutilated Uranus. The only difference, my friends, was that through the trickles of my blood Sex was born and through my sperm, Cinema…
I opened my eyes and looked at the clock. 9:37 AM. Damn it; I was late for work. But that’s ok, I thought; the FOMC could wait. I tried to get up, but I couldn’t. An unprecedented burden nailed me on my bed. I reluctantly placed my hand under my boxers and grabbed my Balls. Hosanna, I exclaimed with devoutness. You won’t believe this, my trusted readers, but, after all these years, my experiments had been successful: my Testicles had tripled! I now had four (4), one for each Season. Unfortunately, though, all good things come to an end. Neither me, nor you, had the chance to enjoy this divine gift, since I was diagnosed with cancer. My beautiful and proud Balls…
Nowhere Man
I ventured here looking for theories about the film...Alas, now I can't stop wondering what the devil Cornelius P. is talking about.
ivanrs
The way Lynch handle the tension troughout the whole film is spectacular. This is to me his creepiest film, specially in those scenes from the first half when the guy walks through the hallway and all you get to see his the darkness consuming his figure. I was terrified.Alias
This movie is fucked up. It doesn't even make sense to talk about it in terms of good or bad, so completely different from everything else is it.Scratch47
Wow. Read the ImDB analysis afterwards.derias
I liked this one:)Siskoid
Structurally a prototype of sorts for Mullholland Dr., Lost Highway is a recursive neo-noir thriller that many have found frustrating for its lack of answers, but dream logic, magical realism, and psychological resonance put various interpretations well within reach of the open-minded audience. Given the crushing normalcy of Bill Pullman's life at the top of the film, everything else is a noir fantasy fueled by his jealousy, up to and including his identity schism, reverting to a younger self (note how the cars and styles are all over the place) better suited to resolving the fantasy heroically rather than violently. And yet, the fantasy is also real. The cops really are after him, he really does get a message from another time, and so on. But it's psychology manifest. The time loop is only ever himself reflecting on himself, and resolving the psychic trauma of his jealousy, to either lay things to rest, or inflame them further. If the noir elements AREN'T a fantasy, then you can see Bill's transformation as a psychological break made flesh, literally wanting to be someone else, and yet consistently haunted by who you really are. In any case, a torrid dream-like thriller that, like the protagonist's story, doubles back on itself but never circles a conclusion.wetwillies
I honestly did not understand one bit of this, but it is still such a compelling film.My name long game
Great soundtrack !!dchauvin
Whilst watching it is difficult to perfectly understand what's going on, but as someone else said, reading the IMDb analysis after really helps explain it (and it does sorta make some sense).Regardless of all that the first half is excellent in it's tension and creepiness, whilst the second half is equally exciting in an almost Tarantino-esque way. The music throughout is superb.
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