By the time The Pack ended we were heading into the home stretch. The third from last film was the Sweeny Todd-inspired The Undertaker and His Pals, presented by our co-host Paul. It’s a short little gore comedy that basically plays like a Herschell Gordon Lewis film if they were more successfully darkly humorous. It’s a sick film that generally manages to seem puckish more than just gross.
Paul’s film was followed by his wife Holly’s film, Eraserhead. I hadn’t seen that in twenty or thirty years, since a midnight movie showing at Chicago’s Music Box Theatre. My BS detector usually goes nuts with this sort of picture, but David Lynch manages to suggest that he does in fact knows what it all ‘means’. (Assuming that phrase has any relevance for this sort of film.) I can’t say the film has lost any of its disquieting power over the years.
