Give an unreliable filmmaker an unreliable narrator and you get David Lynch’s “Lost Highway.” Along with the highway, I also lost two-plus hours of my life I’ll never get back. Unless I value the time I spent watching Patricia Arquette. I can imagine in 1997 a lot of couples saw Arquette and Bill Pullman on the same marquee and figured it was a win-win date movie. Then Robert Blake shows up in pancake makeup and lipstick. You can’t unsee that. Then bodies start hitting the floor thanks to a sax player who’s jealous, or hallucinating, or something. But definitely unreliable.