Great Movies: Eraserhead (1977) - Death After Life
By: Erin
Posted: November 21, 2023
Originally Written: March 4, 2023
Image courtesy of TheMovieDB
There's a famous interview from David Lynch where he calls Eraserhead his most spiritual film and when asked to elaborate, refuses. I understand why not - there's nothing he can say about it that isn't already elaborated on in the text itself. If you don't got it, get it. If you don't get it, figure it out. Laying the nightmare bare only serves to take its power away. Art begs us to converse with it. Ironic that a film following our wide-eyed almost-mute protagonist would inspire such conversation.
I'm so glad that Mandy and I have delved into the realm of David Lynch. Mulholland Drive is one of our favorite films of his, we adored Twin Peaks, and in general I find his brand of humor, anxiety, and utter zeal for life to be deeply soothing even in something like this, a movie about the terror of aging and of being forced into the next "proper" stage of life by a society that deeply does not care if you're ready for it or not. Henry's suicidal ideation and ultimate feeling that there's no way out as he becomes a cog in a machine of perception, a cog that has to be seen by others as A Husband, A Father, A Worker, is so deeply upsetting yet painfully real, and for as many jokes as one can make along the way of Lynch hating babies or old people, I understand him. I understand what it's like to grind yourself into pencil shavings until you're nothing but a derogatory nickname based on your appearance, until you have nothing left to do but enter the hole in the ground from whence you came.
The deep distress this movie engenders is something special, anchored by the nuance in Henry's performance. We all live in fear of our bodies failing us. We all live in fear of disappointing others around us. It can be soul-crushing. We are not ready to grow and the cruelty in life is that time marches forward whether we understand it or not.
As I watched Eraserhead I was taken constantly by the images of nuclear war lurking in the background, beautiful still photos of the devastating end of life. My partner turns 30 today. I turned 30 a year and a half ago. The march of time is unceasing and it batters a steady rhythm into our eardrums, punctuated by the cracking of bone. Do we lose our selves after a certain age, defined now by our usefulness to society and our relation to others? Must we?
I don't think so. It's tragic that Henry does.
The themes that pound through this and Fire Walk With Me are so similar, so comparable, yet handled so differently. Lynch has philosophies and thoughts to portray and understands that the only way to portray them is to be as evocative and disgusting and humorous and chaotic as life itself. Henry in Eraserhead and Laura in Fire Walk With Me are both struggling in their young lives, forced to deal with crushing existentialism and the constant mortifying frustration of perception, of having to learn to fit into the box that others have carved out for them - in Henry's case, society and traditional parenthood, in Laura's case her small town reputation as the perfect prom queen. Henry seeks comfort in death. Laura's death is a comfort. We suffer in silence, and then we suffer no more.
Yet, through all this grim fear that permeates Eraserhead, it is beautiful. Lynch understands that life is beautiful. Even when it's like this. Even when it hurts. Even when you are overwhelmed by your fear, staring at the image of a nuclear explosion, wondering if this is all that your future holds. There's something beautiful there in each gaping maw, each twisted grin. There's something deeply tragically comic about it all, a cosmic joke. The Eraserhead Baby is indicative of this, a helpless grotesque creature that inspires revulsion in some but feelings of love and protection in others, born into this world solely to feel agonizing discomfort. Its fate, just like Henry's, is one to mourn.