Cabeza de borrador

A surprising number of reviewers here howl at length about how bored they were by this movie. No surprise. I doubt David Lynch intended to entertain the viewer of Eraserhead. He intended to invoke a response, to be sure, but amusement was not it. There is not a single word nor phrase I can use to convey the response this movie brought out in me. Fascinated depression, appalled sympathy, and an ever present feeling of gratitude that although I was present in this bleak, inhuman, industrial, possibly toxic world, it was just a dream and I would be away from it eventually, unlike Henry Nance.

The events draw you along in morbid curiosity as Henry goes about his business, fate not being very kind to him at any particular point. The pacing is slow enough that one has time to muse on the meaning of what transpires while the dank grim surroundings press down on oneself as they do on Henry.

Should be watched in the evening with darkened lights. It is a trip, if you are willing to take it.

Those who are bored should not watch it. They should rent 'Rambo', or perhaps 'Smokey and the Bandit'.

What fascinated me throughout the entire movie was how David Lynch built a world that looks like it could be familiar to the audience, but feels like something entirely alien.

This is not my first David Lynch movie, as I watched The Elephant Man some years back, but I remember it being nothing like this in terms of its weirdness.

Definitely looking forward to getting to know more of Lynch's work!

Of all the films I've seen, this has to be the 2nd most surreal of all. Only L'Age d'or can surpass it. While that movie was sublimely subversive, especially in its closing scene, Eraserhead can only hint at such greatness.

Reviewing a movie like this is nearly impossible. How can one honestly "enjoy" the macabre and disturbing imagery? How can one definitively pinpoint the narrative or intention when the creator has said nary a word on the subject in 30 years?

Most of David Lynch's work has been moderately accessible if you're willing to work at it. He's been equally successful with a straight-forward narrative (The Elephant Man, Straight Story) as he has with the bizarre (almost everything else). But after watching this movie, I feel like I either need to attend film school or see a therapist.

I can think of very few films that have sound as their most commendable feature. The Exorcist is one, a film that, aside from infrequent strains of `Tubular Bells', adopts minimal incidental music. This is laudable in a horror genre where shocks are clearly signposted – and predicted – by overgenerous musical stings. The Exorcist may be flawed, but its avoidance of this field cliché is worthy of praise.

Eraserhead is the other film that excels in sound. A frankly disturbing concoction of industrial score and white noise with undercurrents of musical hall and sonorous church organ, it is almost an extra character in the film, and easily it's most prominent factor.

Yet Eraserhead is to be recommended for more than its incidentals. An impenetrable and gloomy work, what is it actually about? Who is the credited `man in the planet' who pulls levers that control giant spermatozoa? Many questions like this permeate a film which perhaps has to be seen several times to get over the initial shock of it's avant gardism. Lynch extracts the everyday and supplants it with the exceptionally bizarre. The experience of meeting a girlfriend's parents for the first time is never worse than here, where the parents in question gyrate spasmodically to the animated legs of a blood-spitting chicken. It's these scenes – along with the deformed mutant baby – that could lend the film the air of an abortion debate. Birth and repressed sexuality thrive throughout the film, from suckling puppies to the seductive appeal of the `beautiful girl across the hall' and a mother-in-law that gets too close for comfort. I guess the entire film could be a man's mental breakdown when faced with the premature responsibilities of marriage and fatherhood. Though to be honest I couldn't even begin to imagine what it's really all about.

Encroaching blackness fills every scene, where lights are intermittent at best, and at worse fail completely. Often sets – particularly the bedroom when `Mary X' is feeding the child – are like prison cells. Two of the most eerie segments involve a title-explaining dream (?) where Henry's (Nance's) head is carved into pencil rubbers and an unsettling musical number from the `lady in the radiator'. This is the same lady with two candyfloss-like lumps on her cheeks that alternates her stage appearances between stamping on giant sperm to singing with religious convictions.

Direction and cinematography are brilliant throughout, though the climax is the ultimate extension of a film that borders on darker, extremely unpleasant aspects of reality. I took a girl to see this film once, where the conclusion formed the final straw in what could be seen as a cycle of repellent imagery. I wonder why I never saw her again?

You need a clear head and focused intent prior to settling down to an abstract and uncoupled vision of a world that's so out of phase with anything you have or will ever come across - wlack & bhite but not monochrome.