Eraserhead is a heavily symbolic, sexually charged conglomerate about the ugliness of industrial times. The film follows the title-haired paper printer, Henry Spencer (Jack Nance) as he lives his already rugged, dreary life in a one-bedroom apartment. One day, after a while of no contact, Henry’s girlfriend Mary (Charlotte Stewart) invites him to dinner, upon which it’s revealed she’s had a baby he’s presumably the father of—and thus responsible for. Upon obtaining the sperm-like alien baby assumed to be merely deformed, Henry’s life spirals into further misery. His girlfriend abandons the pair, the baby gets sick and needs constant attention, and the vile infant’s presence blocks Henry’s further sexual/romantic endeavors. In an already bleak world and living state, Henry must determine what’s best for him and the baby – before he snaps himself.

To enjoy Eraserhead, you must be enthused by and understand director-writer-editor-composer-etc. David Lynch’s work in surrealism and dreams. This movie is quintessentially dreamlike: black and white shoots of hellish industrial landscapes, depressed characters, and an eerie background white noise disguising reality-dream transitions appear whilst the central surrealist elements unfold. While the experimentation in this earlier Lynch feature can drag on in oft far-fetched fashion—unfinished ideas, untethered symbolism, and visual shock for shock’s sake litter the film—Eraserhead provides a plethora of industry-sex parallels, post-consumerist prediction, and imagery about parenting in dangerously (industrially) wasteful conditions.

Take Henry’s alien baby. In the beginning of the film, a dying planet powered by a sickly man sends out the healthiest of his spermatazoic creatures to impregnate a woman. While exact execution of the worker’s goals is never discovered, his motivations are clear: connecting to other life allows him and his planet to live on. However, the plan quickly fails as his creature gets sick on Earth, seemingly in a similar manner—both the worker and the baby have blistery spots engulfing their bodies and breathing troubles. Sending his “child” to a planet condemned to a similar consumeristically destructive doom only killed he and his planet faster. It’s a warning to humans what we will become; survivors in a world where you have to take what’s left before you get sick and die.

This is just one of Eraserhead’s many feats. Metaphors about parenting through Henry’s dreams about a lady in a radiator performing as she steps on mini versions of the alien; symbols of sexual trauma and sexually charged societal expectations; and blunt imagery about similarities between the uglies of both sex and industry all get translated through the likes of blood gushing cooked chickens and unexplainably strained interactions. Eraserhead’s not for everyone, but for those who love experimental and surreal flicks, it’s sure to please (or chill).

Screens Thursday, 9/12, 9:55 pm @ Coolidge Corner Theatre
Part of the ongoing repertory series: Cult Classics