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Long before "Mulholland Drive" David Lynch was drawing many "WTFs?" from audiences everywhere (well, from places where they actively pursued his work anyway) and his 1977 film "Eraserhead" is a perfect example of Lynch's unusual approach to the medium.

I'm not going to lie; after you watch a film like this, you'll probably want to clench your fists and curse at the screen.  I remember taking one of my younger brothers to go see a 35mm presentation of it and he actually slept for 25 mins of the third act. When he woke up and watched the last scene he turned to me and whispered, "You know, even if I was awake for this last part, I think I'd be just as confused."

But "Eraserhead" is considered art.  Cinematic art.  Lynch hasn't really stepped forward (even though it's been over 30 years since its debut) to orate or explain the film and that's not a problem.  The shot above is how the film opens.  Dark, ominous with imagery that is iconic and heavily unclear.

It wouldn't be inaccurate to call the work a partial silent film, laced with ambient industrial sounds.  If that was the tagline on the poster, it would give viewers a marginal heads up.  Many agree that the film is a twisted biographical examination of Lynch's early adult years when he faced parenthood, marriage and the dry spell of any working hunger artist (though in this film it's referred to as a "vacation").

Jack Nance plays Henry Spencer (the incarnation of Lynch), as a man who is immune to the lifeless world that surrounds him.  There's a frightening indifference in his eyes as he sits in a room, next to a table that is acting as the stubborn crib to his mutant infant son.  Even when he has an adulterous encounter with the lady from across the hall, there's a sort of coldness to his sexual behavior: they literally drown in the center of the bed.

What is Lynch trying to ask or prove in "Eraserhead"?  It's hard to say.  But for me, the film is a scary, Kafkaesque take on the world from the viewpoint of a brilliant Director.  The industrial revolution--at least in the eyes of Henry Spencer--has made the world barren, and ugly.  There is no sunshine, just steam from street sewers.  There are no places of creative employment, just factories for men in "print."  A carnal point is made through a father figure we meet who is very proud to have been a plumber for decades.

And then there's the lady in the radiator (the creepy, puffy-cheeked lady in the pic above).  She creepily sings "In heaven, everything is fine..." at several points.  For me, she was the villain for most of the running time; the face of the industrious, post-modern America with happy logo signs or images (e.g. the Quaker Oats guy) replacing creativity with physical product.

But something strange happens at the end.  I believe Henry is saved by the end.  Many others believe he is destroyed.  I think he is saved due to the bright light that blinds the screen when the lady in the radiator consumes Henry.  The music (or noise) in the film reaches a sort of high point here.

Maybe I was just hoping for a better life for our protagonist.  And if he is destroyed, or "erased" from existence--then maybe that's not a bad thing in Lynch's book either.