Here’s one of my favorite
bits of movie trivia—Mel Brooks is responsible for unleashing David Lynch on
the world. Sort of. After expanding an American Film Institute student project
into the bizarre feature Eraserhead
(1977), Lynch caught the attention of a producer at Brooks’ short-lived
production company, Brooksfilms. This led to Lynch getting hired as the
director for The Elephant Man, which
Lynch did not originate but which completely suits the filmmaker’s dark style.
Thus, a connection was permanently formed between the funnyman who filled the
Wild West with flatulence in Blazing
Saddles (1974) and the experimentalist who combined huffing and rape in Blue Velvet (1986).
Anyway, The Elephant Man is in some ways Lynch’s
most accessible movie, even though it’s black-and-white, set during the
Victorian era, and profoundly sad. Notwithstanding some flourishes during dream
sequences, The Elephant Man is
entirely reality-based, so Lynch doesn’t rely on any of his usual surrealist
tricks. Instead, he demonstrates an extraordinary gift for stylized
storytelling, because Lynch swaths this poignant narrative with a perfect
aesthetic of murky shadows, silky rhythms, and undulating textures. (Lynch and
his collaborators create such magical effects with editing, music, production
design, and sound effects that the film seems to have a tangible pulse.) The
director also guides his cast through masterful performances.
Based on the
real-life exploits of Joseph Merrick, an Englishman afflicted with
neurofibromatosis, the movie tracks Merrick from the indignity of life as a
circus attraction to the period during which he was accepted by polite society
thanks to the patronage of a sympathetic doctor. Renamed John Merrick in the
script, the character is a paragon of dignity, suffering the exploitation of
cretins and the revulsion of gawkers without manifesting the rage to which he
was surely entitled. The saintly portrayal tips the narrative scales, to be
sure, but this approach suits the film’s overall themes: More than anything, The Elephant Man is about society’s
inability to embrace unique people.
When the story begins, Merrick (John Hurt) is
kept as a virtual slave by a beastly carnival barker named Bytes (Freddie
Jones). One evening, aristocratic Dr. Frederick Treves (Anthony Hopkins) sees
Merrick on display and marvels at Merrick’s deformities, which include an
oversized head, a misshapen spine, and various large tumors. Treves buys
Merrick’s freedom and contrives to find Merrick a permanent home inside a
London hospital. Later, Merrick is presented to society and shown a mixture of
pity and respect that he perceives as love. Crystallizing Merrick’s acceptance is his friendship with a famous stage actress (Anne Bancroft), who
visits Merrick regularly without ever evincing disgust at his appearance. The demons of Meerick’s old life aren’t so easily kept at bay, however, because Bytes
and other tormenters forever threaten to ruin Merrick’s salvation.
Despite
being made with consummate craftsmanship on every level (the movie received 10
Oscar nominations), The Elephant Man
is painful to watch, simply because of the amount of suffering that Merrick
experiences in every scene. Yet there’s great beauty to the film, as well,
particularly during the heartbreaking final sequence, which is set to Samuel
Barber’s exquisite “Adagio for Strings.” Part character study, part medical
mystery, and part morality tale, The
Elephant Man is a singular film of tremendous power.
The Elephant Man: RIGHT ON