There is little dialogue in the film, as Henry goes about his life trying to care for the baby in his apartment all but dumbstruck. Mary leaves him to tend to the child on his own, declaring that she’s running home to her parents’ house. Henry manages to nurse the bird-baby back to health, but his own sexual repression and guilt cause horrible nightmares wherein he fantasizes about being free of fatherhood. In his desperation, he does something horrible, and his world literally falls apart around him.

That’s about as succinct a synopsis as can be provided for Eraserhead, and even that is leaving some things out. The film in execution is saturated from end to end in imagery and detail that echoes Henry’s repression, guilt and personal feelings of being penned in by his own responsibilities. That the film manages to do so with so few lines of dialogue is a breathtaking exercise in demonstrating themes in visual rather than exposition. That it also sets Henry up explicitly as a man of words (a printer), who is rendered almost entirely speechless by his circumstances, only further sells the dark mood and sadness in his life.