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.
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In “Money Train” (1995), a heist gets derailed before it reaches its destination. So does the plot. It was actually a decent buddy/action flick until the director decided to just destroy a bunch of shit instead of having an actual ending. The movie catches several careers in transition. Wesley Snipes was beginning to cool down. Woody Harrelson was moving from TV to movie star. So was Jennifer Lopez, long before her recording career. Chris Cooper was still a character actor, eight years before his Oscar. And last but not least, Robert Blake was shifting from famous actor to famous psychopath.
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