Part
4: The DVD – "In heaven, everything is fine" |
Well
it's been a long time coming.
Eraserhead
was first released for home viewing in the UK on VHS by the then fledgling
Palace Pictures, who at this early stage were operating
out of the Scala cinema. If you wanted to buy a copy of
the tape, you might be invited round to the side door
and the deal was done there, in cash, or at least that's
how it happened with me.
When
the film first appeared on DVD it was in the wrong aspect
ratio – 4:3 open matte – and not the most sparkling transfer
you've ever seen. Contrast was OK, but shadow detail was
weak and dust and scratches were still very visible. Mind
you, I never attended a single cinema screening in which
the bright white background of the final shots was not
assaulted by a swarm of scratches and dirt.
Then
in 2000 it was announced on Lynch's own website davidlynch.com
that a new DVD featuring a cleaned up, digitally remastered
anamorphic print was to be made available, but only through
that web site and only to US residents. It wasn't cheap,
either. At this particular time I knew no-one in the US
who could buy it for me and forward it on. I thus looked
on and read reviews of the quality with pained envy.
Eventually, a couple of enterprising UK DVD sites got hold
of some copies and began offering the disk at an even
more inflated price – £50 was not at all unusual,
with signed copies going for double that. I came that
close, but I have bills to pay and a house that is falling
apart, so repeatedly put off spending such
a princely sum on something I nonetheless desperately
desired.
The
good news, the really good news for UK fans came earlier
this month, when the same disk with the same transfer
and extras was repackaged in a bog standard DVD case (the
original packaging was quite fancy) and launched onto
the open market for anyone with a credit card to buy,
and at a significantly reduced cost. I got mine for £16,
and I've seen it since for £13. So what do you get
for your dosh?
Correctly
framed at 1.85:1 and anamorphically enhanced, this is
effectively an Eraserhead fan's wet dream.
The transfer is terrific, with contrast absolutely on
the nose, black levels perfect and sharpness and detail
looking better than you've seen them outside of the cinema.
And yes it most definitely has been cleaned up – the background
in those final shots is now pure, unblemished white. Lovely.
Deciding
against a 5.1 remix, the Dolby 2.0 stereo soundtrack nevertheless
does fine justice to Alan R. Splet's extraordinary sound
work, which here has a strong dynamic range and is free
from pops or damage, all of which have been removed in
the remastering process. One bit of advice – if you can
re-route the bass frequencies through your subwoofer then
do it here, as the effect on the rumbles and deeper atmospherics
is dramatic.
There
is also a tool to help you calibrate your TV in order
to see the picture at correct level of brightness. This
being a disk produced specifically to Lynch's specifications,
there are no chapter stops.
A
special mention should go to the menus. Designed by Lynch
himself, they feature an outtake in which Henry has caught
his foot on a piece of wire which is attached to the decaying
corpse of a cat. This does, in effect, act as a warning
of things to come – if you can't deal with this, then
proceed no further.
There
are only two, but the first is so substantial that it
alone qualifies the disk as a special edition, even though
it never announces itself as such, at least in those words.
Listed
on the menu as Stories (84:50),
this a documentary on the making of the film built around
a two-camera interview with Lynch (mid-shot and close-up),
which is intercut with extracts from the film, still photographs
of the shoot and, most tantalising of all, low band video
footage taken on set by Herbert Cardwell. Also contributing
her memories of the shoot are assistant director and second
unit director Catherine Coulson (also the then wife of Jack Nance, who plays Henry Spencer), who is interviewed by
phone and visually represented by an off-the-hook telephone.
A useful contribution in itself, it has its amusing side,
as Lynch talks to her on the speaker phone in a voice
that verges on controlled shouting, recalling his role
in Twin Peaks as half-deaf FBI regional
Bureau Chief Gordon Cole. Despite its largely talking
head structure, and one talking head at that, this is
an utterly compelling companion to the film, with Lynch
covering all aspects of the production, from the planning
to his long-term installation at the AFI, working with
various cast and crew members (some of whom became frequent
collaborators and lifelong friends), the tortuously long
production schedule and even the reaction to the film
on its release. Seasoned Lynch fans will have heard or
read a fair amount of this before, but Lynch is a fascinating
storyteller and peppers the interview with intriguing
anecdotes, many of which were certainly new to me. I enjoyed
every minute of this and despite its length found myself
longing for more. It's 4:3, black and white and is underscored
by a distant howling wind.
The
only other extra is the Trailer
(0:44), which should prove interesting to those who have
not yet seen how those in charge of such things chose
to market the seemingly unmarketable.
All
that's really missing here are deleted scenes. Lynch suggests
in the documentary that he still has some of the deleted
footage, and it would have been great to see that included
here. Ah well.
Unless
you skipped straight to this part you'll be very aware
that this is not a film I am able to be remotely objective
about, and I don't see why I should be. Eraserhead genuinely changed my life and my perception of cinema
forever. It was the subject of my first published letter
to a film magazine, won me £50 in a competition
based around its tag line, and the now faded poster has
sat for years above my bed. For me, the film is a work
of dark, brilliant beauty, as pure an example of film
as art as you'll find outside of the purely abstract,
and a work that captures the actual experience of having
a nightmare more vividly than any other film, book or
artwork I have yet seen.
Finally the film is available in what must be seen as
its definitive DVD form for all to buy, and with no regional
coding the disk can be played on any UK player as long
as your TV can support NTSC signals. Wonderful.
Bibliography
Internet
Movie Database – http://www.imdb.com/
The
City of Absurdity: David Lynch Commercials – http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/2093/ads.html
The
Ciry of Absurdity: David lynch Music Videos – http://www.geocities.com/Hollywood/2093/musicvideos.html
Lynch
on Lynch, revised edition, Faber & Faber 2005,
edited by Chris Rodley.
