Eraserhead

Lynch's choice to film this debut feature in black and white was an informed one. The dramatic lighting and composition is very inviting to witness, without the distraction of vivid color. The elements are organized so much better. This is something I realized after seeing Eraserhead.

I can't bring myself to be concerned with what this film is about. It could be about fatherhood responsibility, guilt for longing, extra marital affairs, suffocation, dreams of greener grass (even if that greener grass is deformed and cruel), or extensions of the self, the compulsion to kill these extentions (malfigures), or just plain weirdness for weirdness sake, this is a strikingly effective film.

Eraserhead uses an almost white noise bed of sound design to allow a very deliberate array of images to lay on the top of it. It seemed that every scene was a painting. Soft but juiced with white light around the edges, using the full potential of chiaroscuro, a vaseline smeared over the lens in conservative amount would not surprise me.

I fully enjoyed this very funny, slightly heartbreaking, and continuously stimulating piece of masterful film making. As a craft, a dream, a nightmare, and a string of chapters that allowed filmmaker David Lynch to bust at his seams.

The staging was incredible, as was the editing that was instrumental to the staging. A row of lights at the foot edge of a zebra tiled wooden stage flicker on, as clear light bulbs, perfectly synced with music, react as the camera dollies fluidly across in a semi-circular motion.


A two door miniature cabinet becomes visible on a darkened bedroom wall by a soft and faded dimmer switch, just as an infant monstrosity is eclipsed the same way on a striped pillow, wrapped in hospital bandages. Walls are spattered with what looks like white chips, or torn toilet paper glued to adhese. A lower income star field to occupy dead space, to prevent boredom while staring. A steam radiator is back lit. Another universe for dreaming. You see the hairs and dust stuck to the innards of the cast iron sectionals, from years of greased air flow.

I was able to enjoy the movie very comfortably. I wasn't overwhelmed by the strangeness, though, I was disturbed by some of the disgusting imagery and thematics.

I've always thought Blue Velvet was Lynch's best film, but now I'm leaning towards this. Yes, it's full on odd and doesn't stick with any kind of conventional narrative like Blue Velvet does, but any film that shows its brush strokes in such an intriguing way will always be more interesting to me.