In 1967, when he was only 21 years old, the late David Lynch moved to Philadelphia with his pregnant Peggy. The city will change him forever. He moved into a cheap house in a poor, crime-ridden neighborhood. He also felt that he was not ready to be a father, even though he loved his daughter Jennifer very much. In the book of interviews “Lynch on Lynch”, the filmmaker said that Philadelphia is a city of fear. His house was regularly broken into and his car was stolen. “There was violence, hatred and filth,” he said. He took a job as an engraver and his thoughts turned dark.
Between 1967 and 1970, Lynch began making his first short films, including Six Men Getting Sick and The Alphabet. The first was to be projected onto a specially designed screen that Lynch made himself, and six human figures emerged from the wall. The American Film Institute was founded around the same time, and Lynch saw it as a great way to get funding for additional film projects, as well as to get involved with the Center for Advanced Film Studies program. According to Lynch's recollections, the AFI was still organizing at the time and appeared to be poorly assembled. Lynch eventually received funding from AFI to make his own short film, “Grandma,” which he shot in his home. However, while making “Grandma,” he learned that the AFI Conservatory rarely registered him and did not seem to require any results. It just gave him money and he was free.
He revealed that this ethos would carry over into his first feature film, Eraserhead. Lynch was given a grant and allowed to work at his own pace. As a perfectionist, Lynch shot slowly and carefully. Money often ran out. Breaks were taken. Filming on “Eraserhead” began in 1972. It was completed only in 1977.
AFI essentially left David Lynch alone to make Eraserhead
Lynch wasn't particularly thrilled with AFI as an organization, but when he was offered the chance to make any script he wanted without any interference, he jumped at the chance. He presented a 21-page script to the higher-ups, who were confused when he assured them it was a feature film, not a short. The school's dean, Frank Daniels, insisted that Lynch be allowed to participate and even threatened to resign if funding was not secured. The scenario was inspired by Lynch's love for Franz Kafka, as well as Nokilay Gogol's novel “The Nose”. More than anything, however, Lynch was inspired by his miserable time in Philadelphia, a reminder that the metropolis was full of hate and soot. Not the warmest place for a kid born in Missoula, Montana.
The film was Lynch's first masterpiece “Eraserhead”. It followed a troubled-faced man named Henry Spencer (Jack Nance) who lived in a nightmarish industrial hellscape. His window faces a brick wall and his apartment is tinted and creaky. The pipes hiss and the radiator beckons him with its warming inner glow. He has a girlfriend named Mary (Charlotte Stewart), but they never see each other. Henry goes to Mary's family home for dinner, and the Cornish game hens come to life and bleed when he cuts them open. There is also a baby, although no one is ever sure that it is actually a baby. In time, Mary and Henry move into Henry's apartment with a baby that looks like a small, bandaged, skinless animal. Lynch was always tight-lipped about how he created the baby for “The Eraser,” but fans have long theorized that it was made from a fetal lamb.
Lynch has been on and off “Eraserhead” for years, taking several months off throughout production. The money would run out, so he would have to supplement the financing from his own pocket, Sissy Spacek (who was married to the film's producer Jack Fisk) and other friends. The place of production is And further. Construction has started. It stopped. Lynch worked when he could.
Five years later, Lynch's Eraser was finally finished
The story goes that Nance was never sure when he would be called upon to play Henry during the five-year shoot, so he kept teasing his hair. For those five years, Nance walked around Los Angeles with his six-inch coif.
It was also said that Lynch would blindfold the projectionists who ran the film's dailies so he could keep the baby's special effects a secret. It could not speed up the process.
After four years of filming, Lynch teamed up with sound designer Alan Splett to create the film's unique industrial hums and groans. No movie sounds like Eraser. It feels like being in a womb or trapped deep under water. It's scary and comforting at the same time. The sound design was so meticulous that it took a whole year. Finally, after all the shooting, delays and editing, Lynch came up with a 109-minute version of the film.
Predictably, it was poorly received by test audiences and Lynch edited out 20 minutes. He also mixed it up to be a little quieter as he felt many audiences were overwhelmed by all the moaning and hissing. Armed with the now-familiar 89-minute cut, Lynch was finally ready to release the film. It was March 1977. Lynch has told stories of how, when AFI was told that “Eraserhead” was finally being released, they were surprised that their project was still alive. It had somehow forgotten that Lynch even existed.
However, no one could ever forget “Eraserhead”. It's a chilling nightmare, a look into Lynch's deepest fears. It was also a dark mirror and, as many have said, a portrait of his time in Philadelphia his concerns about being a new father (which Lynch denied). The film took five years to make, but it was worth the wait.
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