The Elephant Man (1980) ****1/2
David Lynch's The Elephant Man (1980), in many ways one of his most accessible films, could be accused of sentimentality. It certainly tugs at the heartstrings in a way that the majority of his work doesn't (I literally cannot watch this film without tearing up). That isn't to say that there aren't plenty of emotional and sad moments throughout his filmography, but The Elephant Man presents itself in a much more straightforward manner than most of Lynch's work. There are few traces of the surreal that were so prevalent in his debut feature Eraserhead (1977) (my review here) and would continue to be so throughout his career.
But I've never seen any of this as a weakness when it comes to his sophomore film. No, in fact, despite being more humanistic than the typical Lynch film, I think TEM proves that at heart Lynch is a humanist. Even when weird (sometimes inexplicable), excessively violent or disturbing events occur in his film and television work, there are always at the base of every story he tells good and decent people who are just trying to make sense of life's strangeness and treat others with respect and kindness.
Despite largely eschewing the WTF moments we all know and love about him, TEM still very much feels like a Lynch film. It's there in the titular character's memories/flashbacks, it's there in the shots of industrial buildings billowing smoke, where machines grind and emit constant humming and noise. It's there in the atmosphere and mood that permeates the film. And it's there in the simultaneously grotesque, beautiful, impressive and heartbreaking makeup created by Christopher Tucker (using casts created from the real Joseph Merrick).
Lead actors Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt keep their performances subdued for the most part. This works to great advantage to keep the film from spilling into total melodrama. Hopkins presents us with a man who genuinely feels sympathy for Merrick's condition and wants to help him, to make his short life as comfortable and fulfilling as possible. Hurt, despite being under all those prosthetic appliances, gave us an unforgettable performance—that of an intelligent and gentle man who simply wanted to live his best life, free from the scorn and disgust of those that didn't understand him or his condition.
Lynch and crew certainly took liberties with the true life story of Merrick to create a dramatic screen interpretation, but TEM never feels ridiculous (or absurd, as parts of other Lynch films tend to). At times some of the actions of the "villains" may feel particularly sinister, but honestly they don't seem that far-fetched. There are subtle touches of humor here and there that break up the melancholy (though I've never found the film to be depressing). John Morris' score is elegant and never intrusive, save one scene where it is intentionally grandiose and loud. And of course no one can write about TEM without mentioning Freddie Francis' stunning and absolutely gorgeous black & white cinematography, which features some of the most striking images ever put to celluloid (looking more impressive than ever on 4K UHD).
I hadn't watched The Elephant Man in more than ten years, and I think I had forgotten just how powerful, moving and touching the film is. For some, those may seem like cliche words typically assigned to the types of films that may not appeal to them (I can relate to that to some degree), but they truly do apply here. In the hands of Lynch, and the brilliant artists that he aligned himself with, he was able to take this material and create a true classic that holds appeal for a broad audience.
You can find my David Lynch Feature Films Ranked list here.
But I've never seen any of this as a weakness when it comes to his sophomore film. No, in fact, despite being more humanistic than the typical Lynch film, I think TEM proves that at heart Lynch is a humanist. Even when weird (sometimes inexplicable), excessively violent or disturbing events occur in his film and television work, there are always at the base of every story he tells good and decent people who are just trying to make sense of life's strangeness and treat others with respect and kindness.
Despite largely eschewing the WTF moments we all know and love about him, TEM still very much feels like a Lynch film. It's there in the titular character's memories/flashbacks, it's there in the shots of industrial buildings billowing smoke, where machines grind and emit constant humming and noise. It's there in the atmosphere and mood that permeates the film. And it's there in the simultaneously grotesque, beautiful, impressive and heartbreaking makeup created by Christopher Tucker (using casts created from the real Joseph Merrick).
Lead actors Anthony Hopkins and John Hurt keep their performances subdued for the most part. This works to great advantage to keep the film from spilling into total melodrama. Hopkins presents us with a man who genuinely feels sympathy for Merrick's condition and wants to help him, to make his short life as comfortable and fulfilling as possible. Hurt, despite being under all those prosthetic appliances, gave us an unforgettable performance—that of an intelligent and gentle man who simply wanted to live his best life, free from the scorn and disgust of those that didn't understand him or his condition.
Lynch and crew certainly took liberties with the true life story of Merrick to create a dramatic screen interpretation, but TEM never feels ridiculous (or absurd, as parts of other Lynch films tend to). At times some of the actions of the "villains" may feel particularly sinister, but honestly they don't seem that far-fetched. There are subtle touches of humor here and there that break up the melancholy (though I've never found the film to be depressing). John Morris' score is elegant and never intrusive, save one scene where it is intentionally grandiose and loud. And of course no one can write about TEM without mentioning Freddie Francis' stunning and absolutely gorgeous black & white cinematography, which features some of the most striking images ever put to celluloid (looking more impressive than ever on 4K UHD).
I hadn't watched The Elephant Man in more than ten years, and I think I had forgotten just how powerful, moving and touching the film is. For some, those may seem like cliche words typically assigned to the types of films that may not appeal to them (I can relate to that to some degree), but they truly do apply here. In the hands of Lynch, and the brilliant artists that he aligned himself with, he was able to take this material and create a true classic that holds appeal for a broad audience.
You can find my David Lynch Feature Films Ranked list here.
Comments
Post a Comment