Eraserhead, after a dip in the return of Twin Peaks or a zip through Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive, surely bears this out. A long time in the making, Eraserhead doesn't so much tell a story as present a rorschach blob of undigested dreams, television flashbacks, and psychoanalytic nightmares. Each of Lynch's subsequent films resonates with a little bit of this and a little bit of that from the big E. It's a stylized, surreal, completely eggy mess of Bunuel and Dali-esque images, Twilight Zone atmosphere and menace, all built atop an unforgettable architecture of sound. You owe it to yourself to see it big and loud when the Museum of Fine Arts bring it out this Sunday in conjunction with the recent documentary, David Lynch: The Art Life.
There's a line that has it that every serious artist front-loads everything they've got into their first major work, and spends the rest of their life unpacking it. Revisiting David Lynch's extra-icky legendary debut,