El hombre elefante

Man, this is a powerful and great movie. We are all moved different degrees by different things, but to witness sincerely nice people being treated cruelly always bothers me big- time....so this film is tough to watch in spots. Some scenes are just painful and depressing to view.

Whatever your sensitivity, the movie is very involving and hauntingly shown with eerie black-and-white photography. Eerie, and downright beautiful camera-work in here, so kudos to cinematographer Freddie Francis, one of the best in the business.

A young Anthony Hopkins is very likable and John Hurt is, well, someone you won't soon forget as John Merrick, "The Elephant Man."

This is an uplifting movie at times, too, not just a tear-jerker or horrific in showing man's cruelty to man. Be prepared for an emotional experience and an amazing story.

This movie changed my life forever. To see someone so beautiful, dignified, and unique, hidden behind a body and face that society considers ugly, made me realize how the body is a decaying pile of dust, but the soul is a breath-taking and uniquely formed indestructible diamond.

I believe that everyone should get a chance to see this film, for those of an open mind, and a caring soul, there is nothing else like it.

It also shows the detestable ways some people treat others. I felt at first pity for John Merrick, but then my feelings changed to admiration, as the film went on. John, in the film starts as a severely deformed mute figure being badly mistreated, as the story progresses, he becomes the hero. A bold and courageous man, standing against the evils of modern society.

Joseph (John) Merrick, was a man so one-of-a-kind, that someone else like him physically or emotionally will never appear again. His life should be taken as an example to everyone.

As in the film, John's mother says "Nothing will Die", Joseph Merrick will live on in the hearts and souls of everyone who has witnessed the story of his life.

My love goes to Joseph Merrick, where ever he may be.

If one was to turn on David Lynch's The Elephant Man midway through, without knowing what it was, one might be startled at the appearance of the main character. One might even be tempted to make fun of the character. But if one was to watch the film from the beginning, one's sympathy with John Merrick (John Hurt), 'The Elephant Man,' would be strong enough to deny that the former situation was ever a possibility. Lynch does not allow his audience to glimpse Merrick sans mask until his appearance has been built up substantially. When we the audience are at our zenith of anticipation, we see him-no dramatic music, no slow motion; a simple cut and he's there. There he is. And it's no big deal.

This is the beauty of Lynch's direction. We are led through our morbid curiosity at the same rate the characters in the film are. We develop alongside them. More specifically, we develop alongside Frederick Treeves, played with an astounding sublimity of emotion by Anthony Hopkins. Next to Treeves we pity Merrick, respect him, pity him again, and then ask ourselves with him, 'is he just a spectacle to me? Am I a bad person?'

Lynch certainly doesn't let us bypass this question easily. Are we bad people for being intrigued or are we good people for pitying? Certainly there is a mix of intrigue and pity with every character who first meets John, and we are not excluded. However, as with almost every character who truly comes to know John and confer with him, we learn to respect him as a human being and not as a spectacle. Nonetheless, this issue never finds close in the film, nor do I feel it ever can be closed in actual life. Hopkin's Treeves is never fully sated in how he feels about this dilemma, and so, neither can we be.

Technically, The Elephant Man is a beautifully shot film. In crisp black and white, the film recalls the cinematic technique of American cinema circa the 1930's. The scenes dissolve into one another; there is no brisk editing. The lighting is kept low-key during dark scenes, balanced during daytime scenes-this is standard film-making of the era. The one digression from this form are the distinctly Lynchian surrealities-pseudo-dream-sequences of commendably original imagery that break up the film and serve as distinct mood-setters for the audience. These are, for the most part, fairly intimidating sidenotes. We as an audience are caught off-guard because in these tangents we are not identifying with Treeves, we are put instead into Merrick's shoes. It is unsettling.

But Lynch has never been a director to flinch at unsettling prospects. We must watch Merrick beaten, abused, harassed, humiliated, and tormented. We may feel a surge of happiness when he finally stands up for himself, but by that point we still have to cope with what we've already, what he's already, experienced. I suppose that is the greatest and most devastating aspect of the film-empathy. Every moment is heartbreaking. Yet no matter how hard it gets, and how much better it then turns, there is always the threat of another jab. And those jabs only get more and more painful.

The Elephant Man is a perfect film. It is sorrowful but it apologizes not at all for it. It is a film about where our empathy stems from, a film that asks you to feel sorry but rebukes you for your blind pity. It asks you to respect Merrick, not cry for him. But you can't help crying. The Elephant Man is a film that treks you through despair and asks for your hope in the end. It asks you to hate humanity but to love the humane. It asks you to look at a man who appears sad and know that inside, he's okay.

Nobody but Lynch could have directed this movie and made it the masterpiece that it is. Where other people would have gone for fake sentimentality and/or gruesome imagery; Lynch just presents the story how it is. The film is never gratuitous, and that is much to it's credit. It is, however, utterly repulsive. The black and white cinematography enforces this. There is nothing pleasant about The Elephant Man; it is as ugly as it's title character, and that is the way that this story needs to be. On the surface, it is ugly and repulsive; but just like it's title character; the movie has a hidden depth that is ultimately touching and heartbreaking. The movie sets itself up for this early on; the scene in which the Elephant Man is introduced is most of the most gut wrenching ever committed to film. As the doctor (Anthony Hopkins) sees the freak rise up and realises the extent of his deformity...a tear slowly form and rolls down his cheek. From this, you can see the pity that he feels for this man who has drawn the lot of a lowly circus freak; just from that one shot of a tear, David Lynch shows us the sorrow and the pity, and that's all he needs. Where some directors would have piled the sentimentality on, David Lynch is economic; that's all it needs, so that's all it gets. And that is the mark of a great director. Something that David Lynch most certainly is.

The film is also ironic. Aside from it's visuals that link to the title character, it also observes how society is not unlike a circus. The good doctor has taken the Elephant Man away from the glares and the scowls of the circus audience, the exploitation that he's had to face, and put him a kinder and more loving environment; only now the scowls and stares come not from the circus audience, but from society's upper crust, who want to exploit the Elephant Man themselves for their own selfish reasons - to impress their friends. The Elephant Man is not merely a horror story of the life of a very unfortunate man; it's a story of love, a story of acceptance. Despite being taken from one circus to another, the Elephant Man is happier and more fulfilled than he ever was; he doesn't care about the looks and the exploitation, he merely wants to be loved. By 'normal' people, this is taken for granted; but The Elephant Man shows us that love and acceptance isn't something that can be taken for granted. As one doctor notes in the film, "we can't imagine the life he's had". We can't.

David Lynch also succeeds in making voyeurs out of his audience. Just like the various audiences in the film; we too want to see the Elephant Man, and yet are utterly repulsed and disgusted by him. With this, David Lynch makes a mockery out of today's society, without ever making a mockery out of the character upon which this film is based. The Elephant Man himself is a perfectly balanced example of how pathos can be achieved. Not only is this man seen as a monster, but his character is pathetic also. With The Elephant Man, Lynch is saying to the world that it is society that is the monster, not the freaks that live within it.

To put it simply: David Lynch has taken a story that could have easily been told simply and expanded it to take in themes that are outside of the central premise. This small story of one unfortunate man has been moulded into a striking comment on society. And all in all; it's a masterpiece.

I first saw The Elephant Man at its pre-release showing in 1980, and it struck an immediate and resonant chord with me. Few movies are like this, and it remains (many viewings later) one of my top 10 films of all time.

The plot is presented well in other reviews here, so I will not repeat it or comment further. Of the film itself I would only add that it is without doubt the most mature and satisfying of David Lynch's works - in many ways it is the final, polished jewel carved from the rough and ugly (but fascinating) diamond of Eraserhead, with the self-conscious artiness and juvenile qualities of the earlier film distilled into a potent and poignant statement on the human condition.

Some critics have dismissed The Elephant Man as an exercise in emotional manipulation, however I believe this completely misses the point. All films are manipulative to some degree, but it is a manipulation in which we as an audience engage by consent. The Elephant Man will stand the final test and it will be appreciated fully by future audiences, in much the same way as Citizen Kane had to wait for some decades until audiences were able to fully comprehend its greatness.