Film Review - The Elephant Man
When I was a wee lad, I used my pocket money to buy a DVD of The Elephant Man at JB Hi-Fi. Upon my viewing and subsequent emotional wrecking, David Lynch would forever be one of the first directors I can remember committing to memory as an artistic figure. Unlike most modern audiences who viewed Lynch in their teenage years, classics like Twin Peaks and Eraserhead only came to me in early adulthood–Elephant Man largely made up who the man was to me for all my teenage years. Elephant Man tells the true story of Joseph (1) Merrick (John Hurt), an English man who lived in Victorian England. Merrick was born with an unknown condition—now theorised to be a combination of Proteus syndrome and neurofibromatosis (though it is still unknown for certain)—that manifested in sizable deformities across much of his body, most notably his face, which led him to be exhibited in freak shows at the time. Coming into contact with Dr. Frederick Treves (Anthony Hopkins) of the London Hospital, Merrick was taken under his care and spent the rest of his short life in the hospital, where he became quite well known amongst English high society of the time, even attracting the attention of Queen Victoria. From a young age, the film stuck in my mind as undyingly sympathetic, and upon my revisiting it recently, I love it more than ever as not only the purest demonstration of Lynch’s ability to thrive within the studio system, but also the directorial attention to his own idiosyncratic way of loving the people of the world around him.
Many of Lynch’s early works in the 80s were produced under studio demands, and Elephant Man was no exception, though producer Mel Brooks was famously very supportive of Lynch and allowed him creative control over the film. Despite this positive experience, Lynch’s next film, Dune (1984), caused him to lose faith in the studio system, and he vowed thereafter to never compromise on his artistic vision for the sake of studio wishes. As such, his post-Dune films were rightfully more well-regarded, and now make up the bulk of his reasoning for popularity in the eyes of cinephiles. However, looking back on The Elephant Man, it’s clear that being under a studio system never meant Lynch was unable to find a way to thrive. Where Dune fails to evoke his artistic sensibilities, The Elephant Man has them on full display. Much of this is in the directorial department as opposed to the scripting—Elephant Man was not solely written by Lynch(2), and if nothing else demonstrates how much Lynch could thrive with collaborators on what is one of his most conventional projects next to The Straight Story (1999), another film where Lynch’s sensibilities still show through despite a lack of his trademark surrealism. The film is lathered with industrial imagery, droning noises of clanking and reverberating machinery. The stark black and white photography harkens back to Eraserhead not just in its ostensible lack of colour but also Lynch’s approach to lighting and staging. The film is bookmarked by bizarre dream sequences involving Merrick’s mother (Lydia Lisle) that feature the distorted and slowed down screaming effect that would later feature in Blue Velvet (1986) and Twin Peaks (1990 - 2017). All this is great, but I’m not writing this merely to justify further recognition for The Elephant Man as a quintessential Lynch film on the basis of its ostensible imagery, for I don’t think Lynch himself is even necessarily defined by his surrealist abstract imagery. Beyond all the Lynch visual trademarks, Elephant Man is primarily made up of neo-realist-esque sequences of Merrick’s interactions with those around him. I believe Lynch is defined, at his and the film’s core, by his own emotional approach to mechanisms of morality, something quintessentially represented in The Elephant Man.
In The Elephant Man we see, clear as day, Lynch’s idiosyncratic and loving sympathy for disabled people. Lynch is well known for casting disabled actors in various roles, with a myriad in Twin Peaks including Michael J. Anderson and Al Strobel, and including disabled characters in almost all of his films. An interesting creative choice Lynch makes in regards to Merrick is that he is often framed formally and narratively in the first third or so of the film like a Universal Monster à la Frankenstein (James Whale, 1931) or The Wolf Man (George Waggner, 1941). Making this claim in a vacuum without any knowledge of this film or who Lynch is would absolutely read as though I’m accusing the film of being ableist, but this is far from the case. Lynch’s adorable adoration of old Hollywood films is well known, especially in regards to Golden Age classics like The Wizard of Oz (Victor Fleming, 1939). Naturally this extends to the Universal Monsters, who are often shot with dynamic lighting, their appearance gradually built up through use of shadow and a striking ominous score, all techniques used on Merrick in the film. Lynch utilises these to unearth the true sympathy he has for Merrick, identifying him with the sympathies attributed to the monsters of the Universal Monsters films, who are rarely outright evil and often disoriented outcasts who are unfairly discriminated against by wider society. If any other director had attempted an approach like this it would’ve fallen flat at best, and come off as offensive at worst. But Lynch’s trademark authentic sympathy for these outcasts, in his own weird way, shines through at all times through this approach. The introduction eases the audience into Lynch’s world, a world where the outcasts of society are framed with filmic techniques used to horrify, but Lynch knows that the traditional ‘monstrous’ subjects of such films are always imbued with a sense of sympathy in the hearts of the audience and the film itself.
It is important to note that Elephant Man is based on Treves’ own accounts of Merrick, which as the film explicitly delves into, are fraught with Treves’ own self-centered approach to Merrick’s treatment as a medical curiosity, where there is seemingly little difference between Merrick’s exploitative stay in the circus and in the hospital. Hospital matron Mrs. Motherhead (Wendy Hiler) famously states that “he’s only being stared at all over again”. As such, the film is rife with inaccuracies and embellishments. Among others, Merrick’s real name was Joseph, not John; Merrick’s deformities were not caused by his mother being struck and/or scared by an elephant; and it is debatable as to whether Merrick’s death was caused by the romantically bittersweet notion that he wanted to lie down like an able-bodied person, something he was unable to do due to risk of asphyxiation or cervical fracture on account of the weight and shape of his head. These notions were all invented or embellished by Treves himself. There is something to be said about how much Lynch regards himself as a mirror of Treves, one who attempts to tell the ‘true’ story of Merrick (as the end credits proclaim) and in doing so, ends up furthering this mythos of Merrick that takes him further away from the man he was in reality. However, I don’t think Lynch’s romanticisation of Merrick is disingenuous nor works against the film’s thesis. Merrick is warmly depicted for the film’s entire runtime as a kind, curious person, and beyond his initial introductory scenes, is not shot any differently to the similarly warm-hearted people around him. At the very fabric of the film rests a warm kindness towards Merrick, along with depictions of the evil that sadly surrounded him. Lynch often grapples with the simulatenous hope and hopelessness of good and evil our world, and for The Elephant Man, how the downtrodden are treated sadly defines Merrick’s plight throughout the entire film. But from this came Merrick himself and his undying faith in the good of humanity, something recognised by Lynch.
Lynch’s death has had me revisiting all of his films, almost all of which I love. But Elephant Man will always mean something special to me. Despite not being as ostensibly “weird” or surreal as Lynch’s more popular work, it is still earnestly and unequivocably him on all fronts—his sympathetic and sincere love of those unfairly shunned.
Merrick’s real name was Joseph, but he is called John in the film. This is on account of Dr. Treves notes which curiously change his name to John. The reason for this is unknown.
Screenplay by Christopher De Vore, Eric Bergren and David Lynch.