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Lost Highway (1997). Lynch's flick are just like dreams, they are very unrealistic but the viewer never seems to question nor care. With most people, the desire to "comprehend" what has just happened obscures the magic of his madness. Sometimes it is better to just let the bedlam unfold, allowing the artistic eye revel in the palate of celluloid that has just received witness. This flick was simply another outstanding, nonlinear, maddening work of a master of dementia. The acting was awesome. Patricia Arquette was sublimely delicate and lethal. The dialogue was awkward, but somehow it was masterfully performed and only added to the sense of foreboding. The camera work and the lush, dark color was splendid. The soundtrack and score were wonderful in application. For movie lovers, this is simply heroin. Mercie beaucoup.
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Fate is my mistress, mother of the cruel abomination that is hope.
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