ERASERHEAD

dMYD DVD
Starring Your Own Subconscious Fears and Desires
Trailer

M

You have no idea who you are. You’ve got no idea why you’re doing what you’re doing, when you’re doing it. Rickety Evil Neighbour David Lynch knows, but luckily he’s here to tell you in the most oblique way possible, with a punctured lung and an aged woman screaming blindly in the face of chicken. A dripping psychoactive plume of black trapped in a DVD, the disc festers away in a hive of apprehension and legend, daring you to watch it and get dark ‘n’ freaky, thirty years of reputation piled on top of it to stop the oddity running off. But it doesn’t need wives’ tales or write ups. It’s good. It’s very good. Not a film in any relatable sense, it really is a genuine experience, and like anything that doesn’t dump everything at you on a plate its worth depends on what you put into it. It’s your choice: a sofa-centered laugh riot with a bucket of marshmallows or a running jump into the frightening pits of your own soul, the whole thing depends on how much you’re willing to give to Lynch’s sparse canvases of image and metallic noise, like pressing your face against a Rothko painting in the dark, with a CD player full of rust. Sublimely ridiculous and ridiculously sublime at the same time, it defies genre, description and words, demanding to be seen or ignored depending on how far you’re willing to go. Just don’t touch the Lady in the Radiator.