Grim and Darkly Humourous: Eraserhead, performed by Theatre
Of Hell
Carlton Courthouse, June 1995
Belvoir Street Theatre, August 1995
In 1978 David Lynch screened the premiere of his quirky
and unsettling masterpiece Eraserhead (1978) in New York to a mere 24 people;
it went on to establish Lynch as a celluloid auteur. Thankfully Maj Green
and Ewan Cameron's Theatre Of Hell stage version was performed to a full
house. Kurt Vonnegut once remarked upon seeing George Roy Hill's 1972 direction
of his novel Slaughterhouse 5 that it was the only film he had seen that
totally transposed the novel to screen. Theatre Of Hell's depiction of the
cinema is an ingenious interpretation of an equally startling and disturbing
work.
For those unfamiliar with Lynch's black and white nightmare/comedy, it entails
the nervous and nocturnal life of a sartorially-challenged 1 950-style geek
with a serious hairstyle, living in a bleak and ultra-drab apartment in
the boondocks of Philadelphia. Eraserhead meets the shy girl and the fly
girl next door, and fathers a mutoid infant chicken-like monstrosity with
the former. She flips out and returns to her poultry fancier parents; the
baby monster cries incessantly, driving everyone to amateur surgery and
murderous mayhem with big scissors. The vamp from next door seduces Eraserhead,
and the limbless infant monster cries while they do the horizontal mambo.
Theatre Of Hell's set is festooned with a tree, a bedsit and a tiny stage
where the shy girl does the bizarre vaudevillian routine from the dream
sequence in the film. Eraserhead extracts giant red rubber wriggling afterbirth
and lets fly across the set and into the twigs. This scary but hilarious
aspect of Maj Green and Ewan Cameron's performance gets seriously psychotic,
resulting in a compelling and visually arresting mise en scene that faithfully
renders the film's narrative contents and "kooky" atmosphere palpably
recognisable. Vinny Jones plays the vamp with aplomb wearing a Calamity
Jane outfit. Daniel Flood plays the grandpa, helping flesh out the grim
and darkly humourous narrative. Theatre Of Hell's dramatisation includes
a masterfully crafted black and white Super-8 version of the opening sequence
of Lynch's film, recreating the stumbling protagonist in the industrial
wasteland and evoking the feel and flavour of German expressionist cinema.
Theatre Of Hell's neo-Dada performances continue to bewilder and astonish
those who witness them both here and in Europe. Audiences with a penchant
for perverse hilarity and anxious angst will certainly have enjoyed this
night of fractured flickers and vaudevillian vivisection.
© Brecon Walsh
MESH#4 Spring, 1995. MESH film/video/media/art is the journal of Experimenta
Media Arts