That purpose is to tell a story. I don't care what anyone else tells you otherwise, the reason movies exist is to tell stories in a visual form. The stories themselves can be about whatever the filmmakers want them to be about, but it should at least tell some kind of story.
Okay, so before I start sounding like a broken record, I'll just cut to the chase - Eraserhead was a colossal failure as a movie. Yellow Submarine made more sense, and I've never been high in my life. Fewer things actually happened in this movie than a typical episode of Dragon Ball Z. The plot (if there was one) was so wrapped up in multi-layered metaphors as to become completely irrelevant. If you want to use metaphors and symbolism in a movie, that's one thing. In fact, one of my favorite uses of symbolism in a movie comes from another David Lynch film (Blue Velvet). But in that instance, the metaphor was perfectly clear to anyone who had been paying attention to the movie. Here, the metaphors lose any meaning Lynch may have had by becoming so convoluted that nobody, not even the man who made the movie, can glean any sort of meaning from them.
To summarize, I disliked this movie for the same reasons I dislike abstract art (which I do not consider to be art, as it requires no actual talent to produce) and poetry: it manages to find the most confusing way possible to say absolutely nothing.
Okay, so before I start sounding like a broken record, I'll just cut to the chase - Eraserhead was a colossal failure as a movie. Yellow Submarine made more sense, and I've never been high in my life. Fewer things actually happened in this movie than a typical episode of Dragon Ball Z. The plot (if there was one) was so wrapped up in multi-layered metaphors as to become completely irrelevant. If you want to use metaphors and symbolism in a movie, that's one thing. In fact, one of my favorite uses of symbolism in a movie comes from another David Lynch film (Blue Velvet). But in that instance, the metaphor was perfectly clear to anyone who had been paying attention to the movie. Here, the metaphors lose any meaning Lynch may have had by becoming so convoluted that nobody, not even the man who made the movie, can glean any sort of meaning from them.
To summarize, I disliked this movie for the same reasons I dislike abstract art (which I do not consider to be art, as it requires no actual talent to produce) and poetry: it manages to find the most confusing way possible to say absolutely nothing.
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