The discovery of a severed human ear found in a field leads a young man on an investigation related to a beautiful, mysterious nightclub singer and a group of psychopathic criminals who have kidnapped her child.
After a car wreck on the winding Mulholland Drive renders a woman amnesiac, she and a perky Hollywood-hopeful search for clues and answers across Los Angeles in a twisting venture beyond dreams and reality.
A Victorian surgeon rescues a heavily disfigured man who is mistreated while scraping a living as a side-show freak. Behind his monstrous facade, there is revealed a person of intelligence and sensitivity.
A film that defies conventional logic and storytelling, fueled by its dark nightmarish atmosphere and compellingly disturbing visuals. Henry Spencer is a hapless factory worker on his vacation when he finds out he's the father of a hideously deformed baby. Now living with his unhappy, malcontent girlfriend, the child cries day and night, driving Henry and his girlfriend to near insanity. Written by
The film was created in a piecemeal fashion over 5 years, with many sets rebuilt after being torn down to make way for other work. Through all 5 years, Jack Nance's only request as far as comfort or entertainment went was "a room and a chair," and he kept his hair in the same frizzy style the whole time. The sparse, drawn-out shooting schedule is revealed when at one point, Henry opens a door, and Nance ages 18 months between cuts. 2 years in, cinematographer Herbert Cardwell, 35, died in his sleep. After 4 weeks of searching, Frederick Elmes was chosen to take his place. See more »
The man's hands on the door at the beginning. See more »
I've watched Eraserhead countless times. In theaters. Off of the infamous Japanese-subtitled VCR copy. Off of the recent Lynch re-release. From around the late 70s onward. Yes, that long.
I have friends who won't let me recommend movies to them any more.
Anyway, the capsule summary, "Can't be summarized," is pretty close.
First, it is not a movie. It is not a film.
It is a piece of art.
All of the comments I read that attempt to describe it as a movie fail for precisely that reason. If you read the ones that can handle it, they handle it as an art review.
So don't even think of it as a movie. Don't recommend it as a movie. It doesn't work.
I'll also admit that I sat in a haze for decades, absorbed in the imagery. In awe of the impressions. And finally, an image crystallized, an image of what this was a portrait of. (And, of course, I expect this image may change with repeated viewings...) And as I watch it, with this in mind, a continuity appears.
We are living in hell, we just don't realize it.
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