mosquitodragon’s review published on Letterboxd:
The existence of Highway to Hell reminds me of a time when movies were content to portray a reality in which people act unrealistically and impossibly weird shit can happen to them without feeling the need to justify their lunacy to their audience. I wonder how much of the inflated runtime of movies these days - nary a one under 140 minutes outside the dependable old horror genre - is devoted to explaining themselves to us. Somebody give the screenwriters of Hollywood a quarter so they can call someone who gives a shit.
Highway to Hell starts in the "Weirdlands USA" desertscape where so many 90's neo-noirs end up and then takes the scenic route into the mythical extension of that otherworldly vibe i.e. Hell itself. This is one of those weirdly bearable but still horrifying visions of the concept based on only a slight tweak of the reality we know - we still go to diners, we still do what cops tell us, we still drive cars and use mechanics. What sort of Satan (or God for that matter, assuming God is the one who allows such a place to exist) would be so petty? Then again, maybe small-minded pettiness and an unhealthy appetite for poking one's nose into the lives of every individual on Earth is the perfect vision of what Hell would be - that Hell is a reality in which every single thing that every single one of us does is not in fact a matter of total indifference to the universe at large, but a matter of the greatest importance - such that your transgressions must be punished and, maybe just as existentially terrifying, that your virtues will be rewarded?
Patrick Bergin looks positively bewildered to show up in this thing - the notion hit me that maybe this movie is something he remembers as a blurred image - a bump on the fall down the sudden precipitous drop as the Hollywood stardom that seemed inevitable for about 5 minutes in the late 80's was suddenly swept out from beneath his feet.
Also, did anyone else feel sorry for the sex demon? All she wanted to do was fuck the guy. He didn't have to kill her, did he? She falls to her fiery demise still moaning "I love you". I thought it was pretty poignant. I don't know why Kristy Swanson was settling for that jerk, anyway. Leave Chad to the leathery, saggy-boobed sex demons, Kristy, and hook up with Bergin-elzebub instead - you'll be better off. That would have been my advice.