This summer I’m watching every David Lynch movie ever, as part of the Alamo Drafthouse’s The Complete David Lynch series. These are my notes. Don’t take them seriously.
At a downtown Austin bar in the early evening, I sip a strong beer, and try to remember the last time I saw Eraserhead . It’s been at last 15 years.
I first saw it in high school–that much I know. In those days, Ontario schools were still tracked , and I attended an “arts” school, full of weirdos and musicians and future film students. (Our claim to fame was–and probably still is–that James Cameron also attended. He wrote The Abyss while roaming those same halls. Still a sci-fi dreamer, still years from becoming an eccentric, mega-rich submarine pilot.) The school attracted creative types, and I was constantly in the orbit of strange and interesting peo