You know that guy, Henry Spencer (Jack Nance, GHOULIES)? Guy with the tall hair? Yeah, he works at a printing press I believe is what he said. Supposed to be very gifted. Anyway he knocked up his girlfriend Mary (Charlotte Stewart, Little House on the Prairie). Very awkward. Went to meet her family, it was like the quietest, saddest dinner party of all time. Darkest, too. Turn on some lights in there, people. They asked him if he’d do the honor of cutting the tiny little chickens they cooked and yes, I’d be honored, but also… is there some specific way you want me to do this? I could use some guidance here.
I don’t see him much, mostly stays in his cramped little apartment. Had a hard time sharing it with her and the baby, I tell ya. Baby’s a little lamb or maybe lamprey type of guy. Little crying worm head poking out of a ball of who knows what wrapped in bandages. Just lays on his little pillow all day. Doesn’t even have a crib. Good kid, though. Handsome little guy, in a way.
They don’t really talk. Not much to say. Henry just lays chest down on the bed staring at the radiator. Sometimes there’s a tiny lady in there (Laurel Near). Perky little thing, weird puffy cheeks, big forced smile. It looks like a stage inside there so she puts on a show. Shuffles from side to side, sings him a song about “In Heaven everything is fine.”
His life is the opposite of the song. Mostly awkward pauses and hardship. His old lady flipped out one night, kept yelling at the baby to shut up, took a very long time to get her suitcase out from under the bed and went back to her parents’ place. Henry seemed annoyed by her choice, didn’t have much to say about it, but let’s be honest, he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing with that kid of his. It got real sick, black bumps all over it, nastiest, saddest thing you’ve ever seen. Tried to take care of it, seemed to work somehow, I think it was luck though. Then he tried to go back to work but the baby kept crying so he stayed. I swear he was gonna do it though. The guy is in over his head. Just acts like he can handle it. Doesn’t ever ask for help.
One thing’s lucky, he has this hot neighbor lady (Judith Roberts, Mary Shaw from DEAD SILENCE), came over one night, said she got locked out of her apartment, one thing led to another, the bed turned into a hot spring. Like something out of one of those erotic thrillers they show after midnight on Videodrome. Now she’s with some other creep, but I bet ol’ Henry’s still glad it happened. Gave him a respite. Sometimes Mary comes back, they don’t even know how to share a bed. She’s cute but she makes these smacking sounds in her sleep and starts birthing these big worm things. He digs them out from the sheets and throws them against the wall. Or maybe that was a dream. I don’t even know anymore.
David Lynch’s ERASERHEAD is a movie I last saw when I was maybe 19. Perfect age to see it. The movie itself was probly less than 15 years old at the time, but seemed ancient. Now it’s 45 but looks brand new on Criterion’s blu-ray transfer. I was expecting grainy 16mm or something, but no, it’s clean as a whistle.
When I was young it seemed new in the sense that I was freshly discovering these worlds of strange movies and directors outside of the mainstream, but it seemed old in the sense that Lynch was already established as a revered genius type, one of the top guys, and I just accepted that this was on the list of things you saw if you were interested in cool movies. I was probly less conscious of the deliberately slow rhythm, the long stretches between sparse question and bland answer, between stepping into an elevator and actually going somewhere. Henry doesn’t look surprised that nothing happens for a while after he pushes the button, and neither was I, because clearly this must be what movies like this are like. Which is to say, what ERASERHEAD and only ERASERHEAD is like.
Another thing that has changed as I’ve aged is that now Jack Nance as Henry looks like a kid to me. The guy is fresh out of the oven. Of course he’s not ready for all this, that’s one of the things this seems to be about: the terror of becoming an adult, a parent, an allegedly responsible individual. You don’t know what the fuck you’re doing but you front like you do. Never take off your tie or your pocket protector. Act like a professional.
To me there’s still a certain amount of dry humor in how miserable this all is. Henry’s “What?” face as he stumbles into increasingly shitty circumstances in a world that’s already dark, colorless (I choose to take the black and white photography as a literal depiction of reality here) and constant droning and chugging sounds. It’s pretty funny if you think of it as kind of a tongue in cheek take on the saying “It do be like that sometimes.”
At the same time, on this viewing I found it bringing up some deep sense-memory type shit from times of depression. That oppressive, enveloping sensation that there’s nothing to do, and never will be. That life is just sitting here staring at the radiator until it’s time to sleep, wake up and do it again. Grim.
Also there’s a planet and a bumpy guy inside (Jack Fisk shortly after being art director for CARRIE) pulling levers to control this and looking out a window or something? I don’t know what to make of some of this. I do know that there’s a shot of Henry near the end where (I believe) a cloud of pencil dust glitters behind him and for a second you think oh yeah, that’s the poster and the soundtrack cover and the DVD cover and the beat up old t-shirt you used to see so many dudes wearing, but also, what a beautiful shot!
I didn’t remember that the title refers to something other than the shape of his hair. Not that I understood the pencil factory scene at all, but I did very much appreciate that Henry gets decapitated and his head dumped in the street and a kid knows to pick it up and bring it to that place like he’s collecting a nickel deposit on a pop bottle. “Hiya, sonny. What do you got there?” Great line.
I can’t promise when, but at some point it’s possible I will rewatch some of the other David Lynch movies, and if I do I vow to try to have a better attitude about their lack of definitive, specific meaning. I used to love them when I was young and open to anything weird. Then it started to bother me seeing people ascribe great meaning to surreal bits I felt sure were just some nonsense even Lynch could never decipher. But why should I care? It’s none of my business. Some works of art have a clear idea to convey, others do not, and should not. A David Lynch film isn’t gonna be an allegory. It’s more like a dream or a painting or a bizarre confrontation you witnessed on public transportation. I can choose to interpret it, or just accept that it makes me feel a certain way and appreciate that. But one thing is clear: he’s not trying to clearly communicate anything to anybody. No sense in asking him to say it again louder. If it means something to you then that’s what it means.
ERASERHEAD I feel like I sort of get, but I wouldn’t need to. Even though it seems way better when you’re a teen, it’s still an experience I appreciate. Whether he’s my favorite or not, there’s not another director like David Lynch. The guy marches forth into this world purely as himself, never followed a trend in his life. And I feel strongly that today more than ever we need to value our true originals. I am proud to present David Lynch with the new Outlaw Vern Official True Original Seal, which I will also be retroactively adding to the recent reviews about Jean-Michel Basquiat. It’s kind of like knighthood but way more elite. It will mostly be given to people who wouldn’t give a shit, so there is no need to offer congratulations. But I will anyway. Congratulations fellas.
December 12th, 2024 at 7:15 am
I always liked you Mulholland Dr. review, even though I don’t agree with it, would be interesting to see how your thoughts on it have changed, or even if they have?!?