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The final (major) piece in the puzzle of the Lynchian oeuvre is at last in place.  Employing the great American metaphor of driving -- in a highly coded manner that takes one bizarrely twisted turn after another -- Lost Highway shows us the innermost workings of a psyche (in more ways than one, Lynch's own) that failed to successfully navigate the transition from childhood to adulthood and so remains trapped in a state of traumatized adolescence where identity remains in a constant state of transitional flux and the real and the imagined are never far apart.  Or something like that.  Not to mention the cool soundtrack.  Get creeped out, freaked out, wigged out and more!

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